“Taryn, just let me do this. I’m a little mad that you didn’t tell me earlier.”
I sighed. “I didn’t tell you because you need to stay focused while you’re working. Besides, I figured you had enough on your plate dealing with
Suzanne. I could just tell in your voice when you called earlier that she was giving you a hard time.”
“She was,” he chuckled. “Fortunately she can be quite professional when the cameras are rolling.”
“Did you say anything to her about yesterday?” I asked, wondering if he confronted her.
“No,” he admitted. “Tar, I didn’t want to start anything. I hope you’re okay with that.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m perfectly fine with it actually. It’s not worth the tension.”
“That’s what I thought. Besides, you know how I feel about you,” he whispered.
I smiled. “Yeah, I suppose I do!”
“Speaking of which… what are you up to?”
“I’m just sitting here playing my guitar and listening to music,” I said as I played a few chords.
“Want some company?” Ryan asked.
“Race you to the back door?” I joked. He never even said goodbye. I heard a faint click when he hung up on me.
I waited by the back door for him. The Lexington Hotel was only three blocks away. I smiled when I saw him finally turn the corner.
“Phew,” he sighed. “I’m out of shape!” His breathing was slightly labored from jogging. “I had to take the long way because the paparazzi are
camped out by the hotel.”
“Which way did you go?” I asked.
“I snuck out the door by the swimming pool and went down the boardwalk a block. I told one of the hotel workers that I wanted to go for a jog, so
he gave me a key to get back through the door to the indoor pool.” He grinned, showing me the key. “Only cost me one autographed poster!”
I laughed at him. “I wondered what took you so long.”
“Hug me, I’m all sweaty,” Ryan joked, wrapping his arms around me.
Ryan tossed his jacket onto the living room chair and immediately picked up my guitar. “So, what were you playing?” he asked.
“Nothing really,” I admitted.
He started to play a little bluesy tune. “I miss my guitar. I wish I had it with me, but I had it sent to my mom and dad’s after the last press tour. I’m
always afraid it’s going to get damaged or stolen.”
“Why don’t you have you parents send it out here?” I shrugged.
“I thought about it but it can stay with the rest of my stuff. All my worldly possessions are in boxes in my parent’s basement.”
“I remember you telling me that you used to have an apartment out in L.A. So you don’t have a place there anymore?” I asked.
“No. I packed up all my stuff before I started filming the first Seaside. I figured I’d be on location for seven-eight months… between filming
Seaside and then Reparation right after that, what was the point to keep it all there. Besides, I have no desire to live in California anymore. I was
planning on moving back to the East Coast anyway,” he stated. “I told you that, didn’t I?”
I was glad to hear him say that he wanted to live on this side of the country again.
“Yeah, you did.” I nodded.
“Hey, isn’t there supposed to be a music store around here somewhere? One of the PAs said they saw a sign on one of the buildings nearby.”
“There used to be, but it has been closed for a while now. There’s a big music store about thirty minutes away though. Why? You want to go
there sometime?”
“I was thinking I’d just buy a new guitar,” he said casually. “One of these days if I can ever get there.” He grinned. “Or I can just steal this one from
you.” He strummed my guitar with more force. “It has a great sound.”
“I have a better idea - why don’t we just keep it here where it is safe and you can visit it whenever you’d like. How does that sound?” I joked.
He wrinkled his nose at me.
“So, what’s a PA?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s short for production assistant,” he said, like I was supposed to know what their job was.
“And they do what?”
“All sorts of things.” He shrugged.
“That clears it up perfectly,” I said sarcastically.
“They work for the ADs.” He grinned, knowing he was messing with me.
“Oh. So they must NBC the BFFs on HBO with LOLs, right?”
He started laughing hard. “Exactly!”
“Got it. It’s all clear as mud now.”
“Okay,” he retreated. “Are you ready for your next lesson, Ms. Mitchell?”
He stopped playing my guitar for a moment. “AD stands for Assistant Director. They’re responsible for stuff like the shooting schedule, you
know, what we’re doing for the day. They also track our daily progress, making sure that we’re keeping up with the overall production schedule.
Some of the ADs make sure the cast and crew is where they’re supposed to be - stuff like that. The PAs, or Production Assistants, really do all
sorts of stuff. Some work with the film crew, others are running stuff around the set, delivering paperwork or telling me to get out of my trailer. I
couldn’t even begin to tell you how many ADs and PAs we have on this film - loads.”
“So when is the quiz?” I asked jokingly. “I’d like some advanced warning so I have time to study first.”
“Soon! Very soon!” he stated, strumming over the strings to croon his words. “I haven’t decided whether it will be oral or written though.” I
definitely picked up on his hints.
The more he continued to play my guitar, the more I was willing to go along with just about anything he suggested. I liked the little facial
expressions he made when he played; how his eyes would scrunch closed or his lips would twitch to the beat.
My eyes traveled down the tendon in his neck; how tasty it looked connecting to his collarbone. His gray T-shirt obscured the rest of the view. I
just about lost my mind when he licked his own lips.
“Here you go,” he said, handing me the guitar. “Your turn.”
I was so dazed by my own thoughts that I just sat their like a lump for a few seconds.
“What?” he asked, looking at me funny. I knew I was supposed to reach for the guitar but my arms didn’t respond.
“Here… play,” he kindly urged.
When I regained the use of my limbs, I played a favorite song of mine, but my fingers messed up. I tried to start over, getting the chords right the
second time.
Ryan wrapped his fingers around the neck of my guitar and removed it from my lap. He carried it over to its stand. Talk about a subtle hint! I
guess I really butchered the song.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, abashed by his actions. “Was I that bad?”
He shook his head and pulled me up from the couch by my hands. Without saying a word he scooped me up in his arms and kissed me as he
carried me down the hallway.
It was still dark in my bedroom when Ryan’s cell phone alarm beeped. I felt him stir, rolling over to stop its chime. I opened my sleepy eyes and
looked at the time; my alarm clock displayed 5:30.
Ryan let out a groan and sat up on the edge of the bed, retrieving his clothing from my bedroom floor.
I ran my fingertips down his spine to let him know I was awake.
“Morning sweetheart,” he uttered quietly. He leaned back on me and kissed my lips softly, sweeping my hair off my cheek.
I brushed my hand over his defined chest.
“I have to get going,” he said with a frown.
“I know,” I whispered, saddened by the thought.
I turned the security alarm off and peered both ways down the darkened alleyway. Each end of the narrow road was illuminated by streetlights. It
appeared that the entire town, including the birds, was still sleeping. “I don’t see anyone out there. The coast looks clear.”
“Okay. I’ll call you later.” He hugged and kissed me goodbye.