Love Unscripted

Cory and I made it twenty feet down the sidewalk before three paparazzi descended on us.

“Who’s the new guy, Taryn?” one pesky photographer asked. “Is this your new boyfriend?”

“No, absolutely not,” I answered directly back to the paparazzi. My reply to that asinine question was now captured digitally.

“Why the hell do they keep taking our picture?” Cory muttered to me under his breath. We were tucked beneath the hood of my car trying to jumpstart his truck with my Infiniti.

“They’re taking my picture,” I quietly informed him.

“Go sit inside your car,” he groaned softly, trying to be stealthy with his comment. “This is ridiculous! Does Ryan go through this all the time?”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Poor guy,” Cory whispered. “This shit would drive me nuts.”

“Okay, guys.” I held up my hand to tell the photographers that I had enough. “Friend… ice storm… dead battery… you get the point, right?”

I saw the old, Italian photographer shuffling along the sidewalk, trying to catch up to the other vultures.

“Jimmy Pop, be careful! It’s really icy there. If you fall, you’re really going to hurt yourself,” I warned.

“You need help, Miss Taryn?” Jimmy asked me. His camera was slung over his shoulder instead of taking my photo. He was sincerely concerned.

“No thank you, Jimmy. Cory’s battery is dead,” I nicely replied. “I think we have it under control.”

“Okay. How’s Mister Ryan?” Jimmy’s wrinkled face curled with his question.

“He’s good, Jimmy.” I smiled. “He is nice and warm in Florida. How are you?”

“Oh my hands hurt,” he moaned. “I guess you can’t tell me when Mister Ryan is coming back? This cold…” Jimmy shivered and tossed his lit cigarette into the street.

“Jimmy,” I whined lightly, “you know I can’t say.”

“I know.” Jimmy came closer to me. His eyes scanned back and forth to see who could be listening.

“Be careful when you’re outside,” he whispered, cautioning me with his eyes. “You know what I tell you?”

“Yes, Jimmy.” I nodded.

“Then go back inside, quickly Miss Taryn,” Jimmy advised.

“Okay, I will. If you ever want to warm up, you’re always welcome inside my pub,” I whispered back to him.

“Bless you, dear! Now go, quickly,” Jimmy sighed.

Four days after Ryan flew back to Florida, it was reported in the tabloids that Ryan ended our relationship and moved out. Pictures of Ryan looking annoyed and sad, getting into the black sedan while Mike packed the trunk with Ryan’s belongings were published.

The reason Ryan supposedly ended our relationship was captured in pictures as well: The unfaithful Taryn Mitchell – holding hands and frolicking in the snow with the cute bartender who works for her.

I was glad that I told Ryan about Cory staying over on the same night that it happened so he knew exactly why there were photographs of Cory and me together. It still didn’t prevent the lies from being written:

Love on the Rocks Ryan’s rep may be denying the breakup, but there was no denying what we saw going on at the heartthrob’s secret Seaport, Rhode Island hideaway over the weekend!

Ryan Christensen and his bodyguard were seen leaving at 7PM on Sunday, stepping out with several pieces of luggage and personal items.

They then headed directly to the airport, where Ryan quickly departed back to Miami. “Ryan didn’t stay long after personally collecting his things.”

So does this confirm the breakup? Sure seems that way, since Ryan has been seen secretly hooking up with his newly single co-star, Lauren Delaney, in Miami. Looks like Ryan and Lauren’s relationship is back on!

“Guess we won’t see Ryan Christensen here in Seaport anymore. He broke up with her,” the unfamiliar female customer sitting at the bar whispered to her friend, nodded in my direction.

I tapped a pitcher of beer for another customer, trying to ignore their conversation, but it was difficult.

“How could she be so stupid? I mean if she let that slip through her fingers, then she doesn’t deserve him,” the other girl whispered back.

I finally had enough. “Excuse me? We didn’t break up. When are you people going to realize that those tabloids publish nothing but lies?”

“Tar, leave it go,” Marie quickly interrupted my rant.

“No! I’m sick of this! I’m sick of people whispering about me in my own bar!” I looked directly at the two girls who started my tirade.

“My boyfriend, who I am still with, is filming in Florida! He is working fourteen hour days, seven days a week without a break to make a movie for all of you ungrateful people to enjoy!” I raised my voice. “And this is the thanks he gets?”

“Tar,” Marie grabbed my arm, “you don’t owe anyone an explanation about your personal life.” Marie said that loud enough for most to hear.

“Where are your boyfriends, huh?” I asked the two girls. “Did you have sex with them last night? Do you have pictures? Come on - tell me… I have a right to know. It’s only fair! You know my life; I want to know yours. If you’re going to be out in public, then your life is no longer private either.”

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to upset you,” the one girl apologized.

“Ryan and I are people, just like you,” I retorted. “Just because he makes a living being a working actor does not mean he gave up having a private life. You’re entitled to privacy – so are we.”

Between the false accusations, Kyle’s questionable behavior, the lurking paparazzi, and being separated from Ryan, I was just about ready to go out of my mind. I couldn’t wait to get on that plane and head to Florida for some fun in the sun with my love.

Only eight more hours and two flights to endure before I finally get to see him. I pulled my white cotton shirt over my head and debated over what coat to wear. It was a balmy twenty-seven degrees outside my window but it would be in the seventies when I land in Miami. I put a thin top over my T-shirt – deciding it would be best to dress in layers.

I stopped to make sure the back door was locked before I rolled my suitcase down the alley. Of course when I stepped outside Jimmy Pop and two other photographers were staked out, waiting to catch me doing something wrong. That’s all I needed; one more photograph to set the gossip magazines ablaze with their lies.