Never Tied Down (The Never Duet #2) (2 page)

   For weeks I survived simply by the good graces of Nancy and my friends, who’d made sure I never went more than a day without eating, forced me to get up and at least shower, always telling me I was entitled to grieve however I needed to, but still insisting on making sure I wasn’t doing myself harm.

   After a few weeks passed, I eventually started feeling better.  I was still sad, angry, and full of guilt, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been.  It was manageable.  That was to say, I was able to pretend for short periods of time I wasn’t completely broken, even though I absolutely was.

   Two months after he passed away, I decided I couldn’t be in my house anymore.  Nancy had already left, coming to the same conclusion I had, finding it too difficult to be in the house where she’d cared for and loved on Marcus as if he were her own.  She told me gently one morning that since I was feeling better, she was moving in with Bob.  I nodded, accepting her words, finding them to be just as painful as if she’d hurled something solid directly at my face.  I couldn’t expect her to stick around forever, there was absolutely no reason for her to do so, but it was just another loss I’d have to endure and was ultimately responsible for.

   It took just one day of being alone in the house for me to realize I couldn’t be there by myself.  It was entirely too hard.  So I packed a few suitcases, turned off the power to the house, and drove to Portland with absolutely no plan.  Luckily, when I landed on Megan’s doorstep she’d welcomed me with open arms, and I’d been drifting ever since.  It took a few weeks to find work again, but I picked myself up and pretended to dust myself off.

   When I was on set, working, I was professional and efficient, and actually preferred to be there because with each job came new coworkers.  Usually I could meet new people and pretend as though I hadn’t lived through the worst months of my life.  It wasn’t like my brother’s death was big news, but once a few people from the business found out, it had spread and I’d received condolences from many people I’d worked with in the past.  So, finding new people, who didn’t know me or hadn’t heard of my tragedies, was refreshing.  It allowed me to pretend to be happy and unaffected for a day, to put my grief to the side and ignore it.

   And although I loved my friends dearly, to be around them was to be constantly reminded I was fragile because that was how they treated me, as if I were made of glass.

   So, much like this morning, I tried sometimes to keep my distance from them in order to spare everyone’s feelings.  I would be eternally grateful to Ella and Megan for allowing me to stay with them when I needed a place to crash between jobs, but I definitely tried to give myself space.  They didn’t need constant reminders I was crashing in their guest room, anyway.

   After I’d showered and dressed, I was downstairs utilizing the fancy coffeemaker in the Masters’ kitchen when the front door opened and Porter appeared.

   “Kalli, good morning,” he said, as he made his way through the open floor plan of his house.  “I just forgot some blueprints I needed for a job in town this afternoon.”  He paused as he came to a stop at the island in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes on me, fingers drumming on the countertop.  I could tell by the look in his eyes he wanted to ask me how I was doing, to check up on me, but he resisted.  “How much longer do you have at the shoot you’re working on?”

   “Just a few days, then I’ll be out of your hair,” I said with a polite smile.

   “You know that’s not why I’m asking,” he replied, his voice tinged with just a little regret, which in turn made me feel like an ass.  Porter had never made me feel like I was unwanted or a burden, and treated me with respect and kindness while I stayed with him and Ella.

   “I’m sorry, that was rude.  I just can’t imagine you enjoy having me around all the time.”

   He was silent for a moment, but then said, “Your being here makes Ella happy and that, in turn, makes me happy.  Listen,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “it’s not like you’re couch surfing because you were irresponsible and lost your job.  You’re here because you need to be surrounded by people who care about you.  And we do.  There’s no pressure for you to leave until you feel like you’re ready.”

   “Well, thank you.  I appreciate that.  But still, I’ll be gone soon.”

   “And you’re welcome back at any point,” he said, without hesitation.  He smiled the pitying smile I had gotten used to, then continued through the house, heading to his office to get the plans he’d forgotten, I assumed.  I took the opportunity to head back upstairs to my room to get my purse and shoes, more than ready to leave the house for the day.

   I’d been working nonstop for a few weeks, lucky enough to find jobs that lined up perfectly, leaving little time between them.  I was trying to keep myself occupied, to distract myself.  When I was idle, my mind wandered and my heart hurt.

   That week I was working on an odd job, but it was beautiful, nonetheless.  The Oregon Ballet Company was shooting their winter promo and I got to watch ballerinas dance around all day.  Obviously, the ballet company had their own costumes made especially for their show, so I didn’t have to figure any of that out, but I was hired to make sure the continuity was good and that everything looked great.  Jobs like these could get tricky because the actual costume designer for the company was there, looking over her precious costumes, and sometimes could cause drama.

   It wasn’t unusual for a production company to hire a costume manager on top of a costume designer; there were things I took into consideration that she probably wouldn’t.  Like how the production crew’s lights were harsher against the costumes than her house lighting, so we had the house add some blue to try to tamp that down.  I also noticed, halfway through the shoot, the prima ballerina’s headpiece was switched with another dancer’s, which during the actual ballet wouldn’t have been such a big deal, but in a thirty-second commercial, someone would notice. 

   “How often do you think those guys have to defend themselves against ignorant assholes?” 

   I turned to see Logan standing directly to my right, looking at the dancers on the stage as they performed the same minute-long routine for the millionth time.

   “What do you mean?”  Logan was a grip and local, like me.  I saw him a few times a year if I was working in Portland.  He was a nice guy. I figured he was a few years older than me, but he’d always been friendly.

   “I mean, they’re male ballerinas.  I would assume, every once in a while, some assholes would give them a hard time.”

   I shrugged.  “They look pretty built, what with all the lifting of the women,” I said, gesturing as, sure enough, one of the men lifted a girl over his head.  “Plus,” I said, turning to face Logan, “I don’t think the kind of ignorant assholes who would torment male ballerinas actually come to the ballet.”

   “You’re probably right.  I guess I just remember all the shit the male cheerleaders went through when I went to high school.”

   I cringed.  “High school was the worst.”

   “Agreed.  Although,” he said, as his eyes turned to me, becoming softer as a smile spread across his face, “I can’t imagine you had much of a hard time.”

   My hackles immediately went up, noting the flirtatious tone of his voice.  I turned my face away from him, not wanting him to see my panic.  “I did all right.  I mainly flew under everyone’s radar.”

   “You probably had boys knocking on your door every weekend.”

   His words weren’t unkind, creepy, or out of line.  He was being sweet and obviously trying to flatter me, but I couldn’t ignore the way my heart raced with anxiety.  It took everything in me to remain unfazed as I said to him, “I’m sorry, Logan.  There’s something I forgot to take care of in the dressing rooms.  If you’ll excuse me.”  I didn’t wait for him to respond before I took off to head backstage.

   When I made it into the lush dressing rooms of the ballet company, I walked straight to the large vanity counter and rested my weight against it, arms stretched out in front of me, head dipped between my shoulders, and breathed deeply.

   I feared this was how the rest of my life would go.  Any time a man showed any interest I’d lose my composure and panic.  It had only happened a few times.  I’d sheltered myself so much in the last months, no man really had a chance to get close, but every now and again, someone would say something complimentary or ask me if I was free for a date, and I would close up.  Snap shut.  Completely lock down.  Then I’d spend the next minutes, hours, or sometimes even days trying to block out thoughts of Riot.

   I’d been so clear in my desire for him to go away, I made every effort to turn off any residual feelings I had toward him.  All of which were unsuccessful.  And even though he’d left and gone away, he was still all around me.  Sometimes I was convinced I was crazy, and truly I felt that way.  If I wasn’t thinking about Marcus then I was thinking about Riot, and it was enough to make me scream.  I didn’t
want
to think about Riot.  I wanted the idea of him to be wiped from my memory altogether.  I wasn’t angry with him anymore and in truth, I had deep regret for ever being angry with him at all.  But there was no way I’d ever be able to be with him.

Chapter Two

Celebrities and Hangers-on

Riot

  
“Riot, good to see you.”  I looked up at the sound of her voice, a polite smile crossing my face.  “Thanks for meeting me on such short notice.”

   I stood up as Maryanne pulled out the chair across from me, and we both sat down. 

   “You know I’ll always make time for you.”

   “Well, you’ve obviously not been in this business long enough if you’re still willing to drop everything for your agent.”  She put her giant bag down on the floor next to her feet and then looked at me, giving a big sigh, as if she were already exhausted by her day, even though it was only 9:00 a.m.  “Okay, so, how’s the show going?”

   “It’s going great.  We’ve shot a few episodes of the new season and I’ve got a really good story line.  So far everyone’s been incredible.”

   A waitress came and took our coffee orders, and when she left I turned my attention back to Maryanne.  “So, I assume there’s a reason you wanted to see me.”

   “Yes.  I received a phone call and you’ve been invited to a movie premiere.”

   “Oh.  All right.  Sounds fun.”

   “Yes, and the most fun part is that you’ve been invited to be Lexi Black’s date.”

   “Lexi Black?  Isn’t she dating George Lebowitz?”

   “It’s irrelevant who she’s dating, she wants to go with you to the movie premiere.”

   My eyebrows were drawn to the bridge of my nose and I tried to connect the dots Maryanne was obviously laying out for me.  “I’m confused.  Why would she want to go with me?”

   “It’s a Hollywood thing.  She doesn’t want to
date
you, she just wants to be seen with you, and honestly, I think it could do a lot of good for your career as well.”

   “But I haven’t seen her since I did her music video almost a year ago.”  I forced my mind to stay in the present, to focus on Maryanne and our conversation, even though I could feel the images of Kalli surfacing, pulling me down.  I ran the back of my hand under my chin as a distraction, probably looking as if I were unsure about going to the premiere with Lexi when, in reality, I was trying to keep thoughts of Kalli from taking over.

   “That is still her most successful music video, and her people and I agree it would be beneficial for you both to be seen together in public.”  She paused, then added, “It’s not a big deal, Riot.  You don’t have to sleep with her or anything.”

   “I think you guys might be overestimating my level of fame.  It can’t do her any good to be seen with me — she’s crazy famous.”

   “Riot, you’re the hot young cop on the highest-rated prime-time drama.  You’ve got movie deals in the works, and the two of you have been together on film simulating sex.  Her fans know exactly who you are and vice versa.”

   I groaned and dropped my head into my hands.  I was torn.  Lexi had given me a huge opportunity and I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but at the same time I didn’t want to use her or be used by her.  I was still fairly new to the “Hollywood” game. There were always decisions to be made, and I feared making the wrong one.  Finally, I looked up at Maryanne with a defeated expression on my face.  “When is this movie premiere?”

   “It’s tonight. Five o’clock. Dolby Theatre.”

   “Tonight? Dolby Theatre?  Shit, Maryanne, this is a big movie, isn’t it?”

   She shrugged.  “You’ll be fine.  A limo will pick you up at four and Lexi will be in it waiting for you, so don’t be late.”

   “What am I supposed to wear to something like this?  I don’t have anything except jeans and t-shirts.”

   “Don’t worry,” she said, picking up her bag and standing.  “I’ll have an appropriate ensemble sent to your house in time.  And Riot?”

   “Yeah?” I asked, wondering what the hell else she could want from me.

   “Don’t shave.”  She smiled, dropped a twenty on the table, and walked away, leaving just seconds before her drink arrived.

   I stood in my tiny bathroom, staring at a sight in the mirror I’d never seen before.  I was in a fancy gray suit with a white button-up shirt.  I’d buttoned the shirt all the way up to the neck, but then I’d felt like I was going to pass out from lack of oxygen, so I unbuttoned a few at the top and decided Lexi would have to deal with my lack of tie because there was no way.

   My mind thought back to the first time I’d met Lexi, standing on that sound stage in Portland.  Lexi was nice, professional even, but not memorable.  She wasn’t who stood out to me during those few days.  From the moment she entered the room, Kalli had been the one to draw my attention.  She’d been breathtakingly beautiful, but unaware of her beauty.  She’d been sassy and shy all at the same time, and I’d been a goner from the very beginning.