Love Unscripted
Page 173“Ryan?” I called out, wondering why he didn’t meet me at the door. I hurried to the master bedroom and opened the double doors. “Are you here?” I wandered around all the rooms but he wasn’t in the suite.
Where is he? We had agreed to meet here. I looked at my watch. I had expected him to be waiting for me, figuring he’d scoop me up in his arms and carry me off to the bedroom the moment we saw each other.
I tried his cell number, anxious to let him know I had arrived. My smile turned to a frown when his voicemail answered instead.
I took my thin jacket off, struggling a bit to get the cuff over my cast, and laid it over the back of the silk-clad chair.
Shimmery hues of black, blue, and cream-colored fabric caught my attention. Next to the polished mahogany dining table stood a long metal clothing rack on wheels.
I hesitantly approached, admiring the exquisite evening gowns that hung on padded hangers. I let my fingers feel the silkiness of the different fabrics. One striking dress stood out over the rest – the bustier top was made of buttery soft ivory leather, crisscrossing at the waist. Curiosity made me look. Atelier Versace, I read the garment tag. I felt like I was committing a crime just by touching the dresses.
Stacked up on the floor were dozens of shoeboxes - Jimmy Choo, Christian Louboutin, you name it. Every high-end shoe designer was represented.
Why does Ryan have women’s clothing on display? Must be nice to be an actress – look at all the perks that come along with it. Wait, am I in Ryan’s room or Lauren’s room?
I turned around in confusion then hurried off to the bedroom again, noticing Ryan’s suitcases and his Gibson guitar. I double-checked the luggage tags and sighed with relief after reading “Shell-B Enterprises.” Okay, I’m in the right room.
I reached for my suitcase and noticed there was an envelope lying next to it on the bed. Hmm, that’s weird. Did the bellboy leave a bill for something? I opened the envelope and removed the folded paper. Ah! Ryan did leave a note! My eyes focused on the handwriting... but it wasn’t Ryan’s.
Are you serious? No, this can’t be happening! My brain tried to rationalize what I just read. No, he wouldn’t do this to me. Not today. Not on my birthday.
I looked at the note again, trying to read it as it shook in my hand.
… There was her signature, clearly encouraging my boyfriend to leave me. The rumors, the lies, the photographs – could they all be true?
… The words jumped off the page like a sharp dagger into my heart.
“No. Damn It! NO!” I cried out. “No! He loves me! Me, not her!”
Did he really fly me down here to break up with me or wasn’t I supposed to see this little remnant of his infidelity?
How could he do this to me? Would he really be that coldhearted, leaving this behind for me to read?
Why not? After all, Thomas did it to me.
No, Ryan is not like that. He is a good person… who is cheating on me.
I started to hyperventilate. A million pictures flashed through my mind... Ryan kissing my hand, his smile that made my heart flutter, hearing his voice say he loves me a thousand times.
No, there has to be a rational explanation for this! There has to be! I staggered slightly, feeling dizzy all of a sudden.
My foot stepped onto something on the floor, right next to where my suitcase was placed. I bent to pick up the shimmery fabric. As I unraveled it, I discovered that in my hands was a pair of black silk women’s panties. Like creeping death, more evidence of his infidelity unfolded to me. Visions of him with Lauren, making love to her in this bed right in front of me, snuffed out every one of my joyous memories.
My cell phone shrilled in my pocket, startling me. My pulse quickened and I recoiled back, almost falling over my own feet.
“Is this Taryn Mitchell?” the male voice inquired abruptly.
“Yes. Who is this?” I muttered, wiping my cheek on my sleeve.
“It’s not important. Write down this address,” he ordered. His voice was gruff, muffled.
“What?” I asked, completely confused.
“He is with her right now,” the stranger informed. “We’re taking pictures of them together. Get a pen.”
While I listened to the clicking sounds of a camera, I scrambled to the desk and found a hotel tablet – the same stationary that Lauren used.
“Do you have a pen?” the man yelled.
“Yes, but I don’t understand.”
“You need to see the truth. Hurry. The hotel will get a taxi for you. Come to 2950 West Palermo Avenue - the restaurant on the corner. Shoot that… he’s kissing her again! Ah! He is so busted! 2950 West Palermo.”
“Who is this?” I asked. “Hello?”
I tore the paper off the pad and grabbed my purse.
I sat on the edge of the back seat, staring wildly out the front window of the taxi. I saw the road sign indicating Palermo Ave. My throat became tight with anticipation.
The taxi driver pulled over to the curb.
“2950 Palermo.” The driver pointed at the tall office building. “That’ll be fourteen-fifty.”
I grabbed a twenty out of my wallet; my hand shook as I handed it to him.
“Do you want a receipt?” he asked in a rough voice.
“No,” I said quickly, my hand was already pulling the lever on the door.
I gave the cab door a shove and hurried through the rain towards the shelter of the entrance. Frightening thunder rumbled through the sky; the earsplitting crack made me instinctively duck while it echoed loudly off of the tall buildings. I flinched from the sound; knowing my luck I’d probably get struck by lightning today too.
I looked at the big numbers on the gray stone building… 2950. It was a bank with several floors of offices above it.
I was utterly confused. What the? Was someone playing a cruel joke on me – sending me on some wild goose chase? I pulled the paper back out of my pocket to double check the address, but instead of the address, I was looking at Lauren’s note again. The note I held in my hand was definitely not a joke.