Never Tied Down (The Never Duet #2) (6 page)

   “Oh my, I’m so sorry,” she said as she reached out and took my hand.  Then she used my hand to pull me into a hug.  I stiffened at first, unused to hugging strangers, but then I let her hug me and I leaned into it a little.  Comfort was something I needed to learn to accept from those who offered it.  People didn’t offer comfort for selfish or insincere reasons.  When people wanted to hug you, it was because they thought it would make your pain ease.  So I let her ease my pain.

   “Wait,” she said, pulling away quickly.  “You’re Kalli?”

   “That’s right,” I answered, my brows pulled together in confusion.

   “I have something for you.”  She stepped away from me and hurried back to her house.  I stood between my driveway and my front door, waiting for the woman to return.  I finally saw her open her front door and scurry across the street again, holding something in her hand.

   “These were delivered to your house, but no one ever came to get them.  I hope you don’t mind,” she said, a little out of breath from her jaunt across the street.  “They would sit out there for days, so I’d go and collect them.  I eventually had to throw them away, but I always kept the cards.”  She held out a stack of small envelopes.

   “What are these?”

   “Cards.  They came with the flowers.”

   “Flowers?”

   “Yes.  At least twice a month, sometimes more, flowers would get delivered to your house and sit on the bench on the porch for days.  No one was coming to get them.  I told the delivery driver one day that no one lived there, but he didn’t seem to care much.  They just kept coming.  I hope I did the right thing.  I didn’t have anyone to contact…”  Her voice trailed off and I just looked at the envelopes, stunned.

   “No, it’s fine, um, I never caught your name.”

   “Barbara.  Barbara McKinley.  From across the street.”

   “Barbara, thank you for keeping these.  I’m sorry you went to all the trouble with the flowers.  I had no idea they were coming.”

   “Someone was obviously extremely persistent.”  Her voice held a question, as if she were hoping I’d tell her all about who was sending me flowers.  I didn’t offer her any information.

   “Yes, well, thank you again.  I think I’ll go inside and wait for my appointment.”

   “Oh, yes, don’t let me keep you.”  She gave me another sympathetic smile and then turned to head back to her house.  It struck me that I had no idea who lived across the street from me all those years.  It was a little too late to try to build a relationship now, but I made a mental note to try and be more open in the future.

   I made my way toward the house, the stack of envelopes burning in my hand the whole way.  There was only one person who came to mind, and I wasn’t sure I could handle reading what would undoubtedly be sweet and heartbreaking notes from Riot.  I wish I’d asked Barbara when the last one had been delivered.  Suddenly it became exceedingly important to know how long the flowers had been coming.  Had the last bunch been delivered months ago, I might have been able to handle the information.  But if some had come last week, well, that would throw my whole world off its axis.

   I didn’t have time to contemplate anything, though, because there was a knock on my door before I could even open the first envelope.  I tucked them into my purse and went to answer the door.

   “Are you Ms. Rivers?” the woman on the other side of the door asked.

   “That’s me,” I said with a sigh, opening the door wide to let the woman in.

   I spent the next hour discussing terms with the woman from the rental company.  Luckily, the house was in good condition and only needed minimal work before it could be rented out.  Even better, the woman said that for a fee they could take care of everything and have the house rented by the end of the month.

   I signed the contract, handed over the keys, and we both left.  She made her way to her sleek black Mercedes, and I stood in the driveway staring up at the house I could hardly bear standing in for too long, but cared too much about to sell.  It was the last place I’d heard Marcus laugh, the last place I’d seen his smiling face.  No, I couldn’t sell it yet.  Maybe not ever.  For now, this would do.  I’d let someone else live there.  Maybe that would change the way the house felt to me.  Perhaps, if I knew another family was there, making new and happy memories, I’d be able to move from this place of limbo.  I didn’t know what I’d do with it in the future, but for now, I’d keep it.

Chapter Five

Only Temporary

Riot

   “You’re needed on set in five, Mr. Bentley.”  Erin was an assistant assigned to our set.  She always had a clipboard in her hand and a pencil behind her ear.  And she almost always sounded like she was going to explode from stress.  Even now, watching me walk away from our set, knowing I had only five minutes before we began shooting, she sounded like she wanted to strangle me.

   “I’ll be back in time.  Promise.”  I winked at her and laughed when she blushed but pretended to be frustrated.  She was young, still in college I believed, and she was definitely inexperienced in the business.  None of that affected her ability to do a good job.  Inexperienced or not, the will to succeed would take you farther in this business than anything.  Hollywood had a reputation for being cutthroat, and it was to an extent, but there were plenty of people who wanted to work hard.  Erin was one of them.  Not only did she want to work hard, she wanted to do well.  That would take her far.

   I was, by no means, an expert on the ways of Hollywood.  I’d only been here a few months, but it was easy to spot the kids who were here because mommy or daddy got them a spot and the ones who worked their way in with ingenuity and talent.  Erin was the latter.

   There were approximately one thousand Coffee Bean coffee shops on set.  It was almost as if Coffee Bean, as a company, paid a premium to be so prevalent on the campus.  You couldn’t walk from one soundstage to another without encountering a shop.  It was annoying at times, but most of the time it was convenient.  Like now.  I’d been up late reading through a script change that had come in last-minute, trying to familiarize myself with the new storyline, and I’d missed the sleep I needed.  So, coffee it was.  I wasn’t famous enough for a personal assistant, so I got my own coffee.

   I pulled my coat closed around my body.  It was cold for a November day in LA.  Not anywhere near as cold as it could get in San Francisco, but still chilly.  My face was tilted down, looking at the pavement as I walked, trying to keep the wind from making my cheeks pink and giving Makeup a heart attack.

   I made the walk to the closest Coffee Bean a few times a week, so I felt like I could walk there with my eyes closed.  When I saw the curb that started right in front of the coffee shop I turned and started up their walkway.  I pulled the door open and my nose took in all the smells.  The bitter smell of the coffee and the sweet smell of the pastries in the case.  I looked up once I was inside, taking my hands out of my coat pockets, and reaching into the back pocket of my jeans for my wallet.

    Over the common, neutral buzz of voices that was normal, I heard one voice stand out.  My head quickly turned to the left and I nearly choked on the breath I pulled in at the sight of the blonde woman sitting with her back to me. 

   It was her.

   I knew it was her.

   I could feel it.

   What in the world was she doing here?

   Every part of my body seized at the sight of her.  Even though she was facing away from me, I
knew
it was Kalli.  I would recognize her voice in an instant, in any situation.  We’d spent the majority of our relationship on the phone.  Her voice, in those months, had become a salve to me, the light I looked forward to every day.  It was like a drug to me.  So I knew it was her when I heard her talking to whoever was on the other end of her phone.

   I was stuck in place, the barista looking at me with confusion, probably wondering why I wasn’t ordering my usual drink and was, instead, standing in the middle of the coffee shop with a dumbfounded look on my face.

   I turned and nearly ran from the coffee shop.  If Kalli was in LA and hadn’t contacted me, it was probably because she didn’t want to see me.  And as much as I wanted to run to her, to touch her, to push her hair behind her ears and look her in the eyes, I wouldn’t purposefully do anything to upset her. 

   I walked quickly back to set and found Erin, pencil still behind her ear, looking as determined as ever.

   “Erin, I need a favor,” I said quietly as I pulled her behind the wall of a set.

   “I’m in the middle of something,” she said, but looked concerned. 

   “Listen, I know it’s asking a lot, but I need you to find out some information for me.”

   Her eyes drilled into mine, searching for something.  Finally, she sighed and relented.

   “What do you need?” she asked, sounding as if she were put out by my request, but I knew she liked feeling needed.

   “There’s a costume designer on the lot.  I need to know what she’s working on and how long she’ll be here.”

   “Um, I’m pretty sure that’s not information I have access to.  I’m just an intern.”

   “I’m not asking you to hack into someone’s computer.  Just ask around.  Talk to your intern friends.  I just need to know why she’s here.”

   “Okay.  What’s her name?”

   “Kalli Rivers.”

   Erin took her pencil from behind her ear and started scribbling on her clipboard.  “Okay, Kalli Rivers.  Got it.  I’ll try to figure it out for you, but I’ve got actual work I have to get done too.”

   “I appreciate it, Erin.”  I tried to give her a smile, but I couldn’t manage a convincing one.  Instead, I think I gave her a smile that morphed into a frown halfway through.  I turned away from her and walked back to my dressing room.   I went straight to the vanity at the end of the room and just stood under the bright lights, staring back at my reflection.

   I had told myself, since Marcus’ funeral, that eventually she’d come back to me.  I held on to the hope that eventually she’d heal enough to realize that I loved her more than anything.  I didn’t want her to forget that I was here, waiting for her.  I’d not heard one word from her, but that only made me think she wasn’t ready.

   But seeing her in LA, at a coffee shop, holding a normal conversation — fuck, it hurt.  It was painful in a way I couldn’t fully appreciate in that moment.  To think that she’d been in LA and not reached out to me, it hurt worse than hearing her yelling my name, screaming for me to leave her alone.  Seeing her in LA meant she’d moved on in some way and didn’t want to bring me along with her.

   I scrubbed my hands down my face, trying to brush away the troubling thoughts.  When I looked at the clock I realized I was late.

   “Fuck,” I whispered, and threw my coat onto the couch.  I walked out the door, heading back to set, wondering how I was going to make it through filming with Kalli on my mind.

   Throughout the day I caught sight of Erin, tried to make eye contact with her, wondering if she’d found anything out for me yet, but she never looked my way.  She was running errands for the director, making calls for him, getting lunch for him, everything she was supposed to be doing.  Every time I saw her and she didn’t give me any information, I became more irritated.

   “Riot, get in the game,” my director hollered at me right after he’d yelled, “CUT!”

   The overwhelming urge to punch something rocketed through me.  I’d never had violent tendencies, but the electricity running through me, the anger I felt toward myself, needed an outlet.

   “I got it,” I said, just loud enough for the director to hear, looking at the ground, unable to meet his eyes.

   “It doesn’t really seem like you do, man.  We’ve been running this scene for over an hour.  Come on.  Whatever is clouding your brain, man, leave it at the door.”

   His voice was teetering between angry and sympathetic.  He was obviously frustrated with the way the day was going, as was I, but he knew it wasn’t normal for me.

   “I got it,” I repeated, still looking at the floor.

   I heard him sigh, then he bellowed, “Everyone take five so Riot can get his shit together!”

   At his words, I walked back to my dressing room, slumping down on the couch, elbows on my knees and head in my hands.  After just a few minutes I heard my door open.

   “Riot?”  Erin’s face peeked through the opening.

   “You find something out?” I asked, ignoring manners and demanding information.

   “Yeah, turns out Kalli Rivers is the chief costume designer for the new sitcom they’re filming over on Lot B.  She’s been here about three weeks.  Not long.”

   “
Chief
costume designer?” I asked, a little surprised by her job title.

   “Yup,” Erin responded, sounding impatient.  “Do you need anything else?”

   I thought about what I needed and what Erin could provide.  The answer was depressing because there wasn’t anything else she could do.  All the other questions I had, only Kalli could answer.

   “No.  Thank you, Erin.  I appreciate the favor.”

   She gave me a small smile before her head disappeared and the door closed again.

   Kalli had been in LA for at least three weeks, perhaps longer, and she hadn’t tried to reach out to me.  She was on my studio’s lot, working here every day, and I hadn’t heard a word from her.  The new information was making me ill.  My gut turned,  actually ached with the news.  This was not what I had expected.  Not what I was holding out hope for.

   I dragged my fingers through my hair, gripping the strands and pulling, trying to distract myself from the hole forming in my chest. 
Fuck
.  I had banked on the idea that she would contact me.  Call me.  Write me.  Text me.  Anything.  I stood up and walked back to the vanity, staring at my own reflection, wondering where in the hell I was supposed to go from here. 

   I only had a minute or two until I needed to get back to set, so I needed to get back into the game.  Kalli was a big distraction, but I couldn’t let the new information cause a problem with my job.  This job, so far, had been incredible, and I was grateful for the opportunity.  I didn’t want the director or producers to start thinking I was a high-maintenance actor. That reputation would follow me around throughout my entire career.  No, I needed to calm the hell down and get back to work.