“Now I’m really intrigued!”
“Good. You’ll have to tell me how, when, and where I can pick you up tomorrow.”
“I was thinking about that,” he sighed. “You know I can’t just hop in your car at the hotel. Maybe you can pick me up at the set, but…” I could hear him breathe pretty hard.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m going to have to hide so I can get off the lot unnoticed.” His voice was troubled.
“Hide? How? You want to hide in the trunk?” I joked, trying to lighten the concern in his tone.
“Ah, just bring a blanket. Damn, I hate this,” he huffed.
“Ryan, it’s all right. I understand. We’ll do what we have to. It’s no big deal.”
He explained how to get in the catering entrance and that he’d leave my name with the gate security. It was the easiest way to get to him, but it was still tricky. Rumors were being leaked off the set all the time, and he was concerned that the paparazzi would follow us. His plan gave me another idea. There was one more phone call I had to make.
“Tammy, hey. I need a favor…”
Early Sunday morning I pulled up to the gate on the enclosed lot; it was a few minutes before nine o’clock. The entire location was penned in ten-foot privacy fence and cement block. It was very intimidating. The guard that greeted me had a pistol strapped to his hip.
“Hi. Taryn Mitchell. I have a delivery,” I said to the guard. He looked over his clipboard of names. I had to show him my driver’s license as proof of identity and he made me open the back so he could look inside before letting me proceed.
“Go on.” He waved and motioned to another security guard to move the barricade.
I parked next to a line of catering vehicles and noticed Ryan hanging out by one of the tents. There were people mingling all around so I tried to blend.
“Good morning, Mr. Christensen,” I greeted him with a tip of my hat. A few people walked past us.
“Good morning,” he said, flinching with confusion.
“Are you ready?” I mouthed to him.
He grabbed his bag and followed me along the rows of trucks and vans. I hit the key fob to unlock the doors, which made the lights flash.
“Nice van, Ms. Mitchell,” he murmured at me.
“Bond, Taryn Bond,” I muttered back to him.
Ryan jumped into the back of the van and I shut the door quickly behind him. The guards moved the barricades and I drove right past the waiting paparazzi completely unnoticed. Ryan laughed hysterically as we drove down the road.
“Where the hell did you get a catering van?” he asked, climbing into the front passenger seat.
“It’s Tammy’s.” I removed the T&P Catering baseball cap off my head and shook out my hair. “She owns a catering business. Don’t touch the pastries back there or she’ll shoot you!”
“Ms. Bond, you are truly amazing!” He laughed.
I drove back to Pete and Tammy’s house. Tammy and I exchanged car keys and Ryan thanked them both. “You two are the best,” Ryan said.
“Have fun!” Pete tapped him in the arm. “Go enjoy yourself!”
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going or is it still a secret?” Ryan nudged me with his elbow as I drove us out onto the highway.
I looked over at him and smiled. He was reading the road signs trying to figure it out.
“Northwest,” I answered, unperturbed.
He looked at me and just kept shaking his head. He was dying to know where we were going and I was holding out.
“And how long do we drive northwest?” he pried.
I glanced at the time on the dashboard. “Another hour and forty minutes.”
Ryan spent a good portion of the trip chewing on his fingers. I noticed he was a fingernail biter.
“I like this car,” he said as he closed his eyes. “Seats are really comfortable. Infiniti, right?”
“Yep. M45.”
“Wake me up when we get there,” he said brusquely.
“Oh, hell no!” I poked him in his side. He jumped and flinched away from me, laughing. “You have to stay awake!”
We were about fifteen minutes away from our final destination when I pulled off into the parking lot of the local convenience store and gas station. This was the place where my family would stop before every trip to the cabin. I backed my car up to the tree line on the far end of the lot so Ryan would remain unnoticed.
“I want to get some coffee,” I replied, answering the question on Ryan’s face. “You want anything?”
“Yeah, would you get me a twenty-ouncer?” he asked, reaching in his pocket for money. I grimaced at his actions and ignored the money in his hand.
“Do you want anything in it? Cream, sugar?” I asked. I already had one leg out of the car.
“Yeah, make it a shade light and three sugars. Here, take this,” he insisted, handing a twenty dollar bill to me.
“Nah, I got it.”
“Would you at least let me buy you a damn cup of coffee?” he pleaded. I could tell he was a little upset.
“Fine,” I whispered and made a face at him. I didn’t want to argue. I slipped the money from his fingers.
While I was paying for the coffees I noticed that his picture was on the front of one of the gossip magazines. In the picture, behind him, was the front door to my pub. I grabbed the magazine and thumbed through it quickly to read what they had printed. Amongst the worthless drivel surrounding his pictures was a photo of him and the two actresses exiting my pub. I read the caption:
Suzanne is growing closer to Ryan. The two have been spending a lot of alone time on and off the set, although they both deny that they are secretly dating. The two were spotted keeping each other company October 4 as they were caught leaving a local club after a late night of partying in downtown Seaport. "Ryan and Suzanne were very close all night and seemed happy," says an eyewitness.
I slapped the magazine shut and put it back on the rack. I knew the truth; he didn’t pay much attention to Suzanne that night at all – he was too busy watching me, wearing my T-shirt, in my pub. I smiled widely; he was sitting in my car waiting for me that very moment.
“I got two sausage, egg and cheese muffins,” I said, handing his change and the bag over to him.
“Excellent! I’m hungry.”
“I figured you might be. Hey, you need to share!” I leered at him. He was already unwrapping the second sandwich while still eating the first.