Inside was a link to a website to watch a video.s My index finger hovered over my mouse. Do I want to see this or not? My finger had a mind of its own and it clicked the button.
The video loaded. Ryan was lurking around some dark hallways in what appeared to be a dismal castle. He had a large, silver gun in his hand with one of those silencer attachments; his gun was raised and ready to fire. Suzanne was wearing some tattered clothes and she was pressed to his side as they slid down the dark wall. It was apparent that he was protecting her.
“I think they’re all gone,” Ryan said. “Gwen, what were you thinking coming here?”
Suzanne gazed up seductively into his eyes.
“How can I protect you? Tell me!” Ryan begged urgently.
“Just love me Charles,” Suzanne whispered.
He pressed her against the wall and kissed her passionately. The vision of him kissing another woman made me wince. She pushed him back, shoving him into the opposing wall while still kissing him.
Ryan’s kiss was hungry. “If you love me like you say you do, you’ll stay alive for me,” he breathed out.
It was hard to watch him like this. It wasn’t him… it wasn’t the same man who made toast for me or felt my forehead. I struggled with the thought of seeing Ryan this way.
I had seen plenty of movies over the years and the skill of the actors portraying the different characters was so amazing that you didn’t realize that you were watching “acting.” But every person who has ever been in a movie is still, at the end of the day, someone’s son or daughter, a husband or a wife, a lover, a sister, a mother or father.
There was no denying that Ryan was extremely good looking and the character he portrayed on the screen was definitely sexy and appealing.
But the character was make-believe. Charles didn’t exist. He was created on paper and scripted to be alive. Ryan gave him life, but Ryan was not Charles.
Ryan was a guy from Pittsburgh who chewed on his fingernails and cared enough to prevent me from taking an aspirin. That was the man I was falling for.
I made good on my promise to call him.
“Good evening, Mr. Christensen,” I whispered seductively in the phone. “This is Stacy from Housekeeping with your seven p.m. wake up call.” I figured I would mess with him.
“Well, hello Stacy,” he snickered lightly. “Thank you for being prompt.”
“Of course, sir. The management would like to know if you are enjoying your dinner this evening.”
“Hmm, well I can think of a few things that would improve the ambiance. Perhaps you could put your manager on the line so I can complain.”
“Sure, one moment please…” I tried to change my sultry voice. “Hello, this is Megan, the night manager. I understand that you’re very unhappy?”
“Hello, Megan. By the way, I really like this game. Yes, I am very unhappy. I’d like to know what you intend to do about it?”
“We could give you a cash refund or if you’d prefer we could extend some complementary poker chips to you?”
“Er, not acceptable. What else are you offering?”
“We are hosting an all-you-can-eat steak dinner this Sunday. Would you like a complementary ticket?”
“I already have one. What else do you have?” he inquired.
“Did I mention that the dinner comes along with front row seats to Sunday’s game between the Steelers and the Giants?”
“Yes, and I’m looking forward to that!” he stated with much enthusiasm. “But I’m unhappy now!” The whining in his voice was amusing.
“Well, sir, since your happiness is our number one priority, why don’t you tell me what would make you happy.” I was momentarily relieved to lob
the ball onto his side of the court.
“I can only think of one thing that would make me happy right now, and I don’t believe that some girl named Megan could satisfy that. You wouldn’t happen to have any Taryns there on staff, do you?” he asked.
I smiled. “Maybe!”
“You really know how to make my day. Do you know that?” he asked. “I was not in the best of moods right before you called. Now I’m having a hard time remembering why I was in a bad mood at all.”
“I’m glad. You want to talk about it?” I asked.
“Ah, I’m just a little stressed. It’s been a long day. I’d like to leave here and relax on your couch but I can’t. Especially since the weather is pretty decent outside, we can get some additional night shots done. And I really just want to wash this crap off my face too!” he complained.
“What crap?”
“I have some stuff on to make it look like I have a cut lip. It itches. I really want to scratch it off.”
“I’d like to see that. Were you supposed to be in a fight or something?” I asked. I was trying to imagine what he looked like.
“Do you want me to send you a picture? I can take one if you’re that curious.”
“Heck yeah! Is it just supposed to look like a cut or do you look like that idiot who didn’t run away from the lit dynamite?”
“No!” He laughed. “I was in a fist fight. You should see the other guy.”
“Did you pummel him?” I was trying to picture Ryan fighting with someone.
“Let’s just say two of them won’t be bothering me anymore.”
“That sounds like a movie line.” I chuckled.
“It is,” he said amusingly. “Can you name the movie it’s from?”
I thought about his statement for a moment. He even repeated the line for me a second time and gave me another hint.
“True Lies!” I answered enthusiastically, catching the inflection in his voice. “Bill Paxton says that to Jami Lee Curtis when he takes credit for killing those guys in the mall bathroom.”
“I can’t believe you got that one!” He sounded proud. “So why is it that you know other movies by heart but you haven’t seen any of my movies yet?”
I was surprised he even asked me that question. “How will you ever know if I like Charles or just some guy named Ryan? Isn’t it better this way?”
“Hah. You’re right. From now on you are hereby banned from seeing any of my movies.”
I knew he was kidding, but at the same time visions of me not being invited to any premiers flashed through my mind. I didn’t want the fame or the red carpet; I just wanted to be by his side, holding his hand, loving him, and being proud of his accomplishments – whatever they might be.