“Let her know. You keep back, beyotch,” he mumbled to himself.
Dina laughed at him. “Someone sure sounds jealous.”
Darius just rolled his eyes. “Girl, paleeze.
If I had a boyfriend like that, there is no way I’d let some ho be all up on him. Then again, one taste of these lips and he’d never go back.”
Visualizing Ryan’s reaction to Darius’s claim was equally entertaining.
“Ah, I don’t think Taryn has to worry about Nicole. Ryan Christensen isn’t her type,” Dina said with a wink, pinning the hem on a pair of pants. After that comment, she now had my total attention.
Darius’s face puckered.
“Whaaat? Honey—gay, straight, that man is everyone’s type.”
I smirked at Darius.
“Not if you prefer women over men, he isn’t,” Dina muttered.
My head shot up.
Darius looked surprised. “Dee, I didn’t know you were a homegirl!”
“What? No, not me . . . Nicole,” Dina corrected. “Rumor has it that she prefers the company of women.”
“Oh no you did not just out her,” Darius squealed.
Something inside of me suddenly wanted to cheer, finding this new information to be most comforting. I needed more.
Dina removed the straight pin tucked between her lips and shrugged. “That’s the rumor going around.” Dina’s walkie-talkie screeched. She pulled the radio from her hip holster.
“Is Ms. Mitchell with you?” the voice asked.
Dina held the radio to her mouth. “Yes she is.”A few moments later, a young man wearing khaki pants and a green hoodie whisked me away on a golf cart. I was paired up with Ryan’s stand-in for another lighting check. I was told that Nicole’s stand-in had completely succumbed to the stomach flu, but I still questioned Jonathan’s true motives for selecting me as her replacement. Regardless, it didn’t matter; I was having a ton of fun being with Ryan.
The following morning we drove into an industrial part of the city that was not at all located where I thought he would be filming today. The building we pulled up to was long and squat, with security fencing surrounding the parking lot.
Ryan’s fingers were woven with mine but I could tell his mind was elsewhere. I knew what was on the shooting schedule today and he was so distant and quiet, he was practically mute.
Mike escorted us quickly from the car, leading us to one of the camper trailers parked nearby.
I set my laptop bag and purse down and sat at the small dinette, dreading this day worse than open-heart surgery without sed-atives. It was time to break our comfortable silence.
“I don’t know how this usually works. Do you want me to wait in here today? I will if you’re going to be uncomfortable.”
Ryan stood there, staring at me.
I stared back, waiting for his decision.
“Just be honest.”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled, eyeing everything but me for the moment. “I want you there and then a part of me doesn’t. It’s a closed set but . . . Think you can handle it?” My first instinct was to scream “no” very loudly. Images of him executing the dreaded scene were flashing through my thoughts.
What was I supposed to say? Oh yeah, no problem. I can’t wait to see you making pretend love to Nicole. It’s been on my to-do list, actually. Fortunately I reined in my self-preservationist sarcastic thoughts.
He pulled a can of soda out of the small refrigerator and popped the tab open for me.
“Gauging by your lack of immediate response, I think you need to be there.
This—stuff—is all a part of acting, Taryn, and maybe if you see that it’s nothing more than choreographed pretending, then maybe . . .”
His eyes locked on mine. “I just . . . I just don’t want what happened in Florida to ever repeat itself.”
“Ryan . . .” My gut twisted. Memories of standing in a downpour watching what I thought was him cheating on me with Lauren Delaney when in fact he was filming were so vivid I swear I could feel a drop of rain trickle down my spine.
Ryan sat down and took my hand in his.
“You had another one of your nightmares this morning and I think I know why. We’ve talked about this already. You’re my soul mate, Tar. Maybe if you see all of the preparations that go into filming a scene like this and all of the people standing around watching us, you’ll know it has nothing to do with sex. It’s just an uncomfortable illusion.” I swallowed some of my doubt, trying not to have any of it fly out of my mouth, knowing that the black-haired boy with bloodied teeth was the cause of me waking up on a gasp. “I know it’s fake. It’s not like you’re going to go over there and actually do it with her.”