Chapter Eight
I laid in bed under the covers on the last Friday of rehearsals, staring at the ceiling and holding my phone up to my ear while I waited for Kat to answer. It was one-thirty on the East Coast, but Kat, night owl that she was, would still be awake.
"Hello, movie star," came her singsong greeting.
I laughed. "Hardly. How's it going back home?"
"Eh," Kat said, her demeanor changing.
"What?"
"I have to tell you something, but I don't want you to freak." Kat's tone of voice was worrying me.
"Is everything all right?" I asked. "Are you okay?"
"Don't worry. Everything is fine with me. It's just- argh. How do I say this?"
"Figure it out. The anticipation is killing me," I joked.
"Dave and Fiona are having a baby," Kat said quickly.
I laid still, my smile frozen in place. I was stunned. Dave had always proudly proclaimed his desire to be child-free. He had to be freaking out right now. There was no way they'd done this on purpose. "Wow. What are they going to do?"
"No, Liv. They planned for this. They've apparently been trying since they got engaged," Kat said.
"Wow," I said again. I laughed hollowly. "That's great then. Give the happy couple my regards."
"Are you okay?" Kat asked softly. "You're doing that crazed high-pitched voice thing you do. It's okay to be angry. I know how much you wanted to have kids with Dave."
"You don't have to treat me like a glass doll that is going to shatter at any moment. I'm fine. So what if Dave told me for seven years that he wasn't the fathering or the marrying type, but then as soon as Supermodel Fiona comes around, he's ring shopping and throwing out the condoms?" I said.
Kat tsked. Truthfully, I was more surprised than hurt- surprised to find that this news didn't send me into a downward spiral like Kat had obviously expected it to. "Let's talk about something else. This is bumming me out. How is your current job going?"
Kat was a private chef who catered to the wealthy elite in our affluent county in Maryland. Her current job was at the house of a state senator in Potomac. She hesitated, and knowing her, was getting ready to rehash the Dave and Fiona thing endlessly. Thankfully, she seemed to think better of it and accepted that I wanted to change the course of the conversation. "Actually, pretty awful." She groaned. "I'm going to have to quit soon. Everyone is so snobbish. It's insane."
"You don't like working in giant, fancy kitchens for giant, fancy paychecks?" I teased.
"That's the only perk of the job," Kat sighed. "Well, that and all the free food."
"Now you're speaking my language."
"I know you so well. Enough about my boring job, what about you? How have rehearsals been?"
"Great. Vanessa is an amazing addition to the cast, and Tyler is awesome, of course." I kept it purposely vague so that Kat couldn't read any more into that than there was.
"Oh, Tyler is awesome, is he?" she said, reading more into it than there was. "Have you guys been hanging out much?"
Not since the night he came to my hotel room and set me on fire, then kissed me. We hadn't had time to, what with our absurd work hours. "Nope. It's probably for the best though. That guy has player written all over him."
"I thought you said he's a nice guy," Kat said.
"Yeah, he is," I said guiltily. I didn’t like the idea of painting Tyler in a bad light, but I also didn't want Kat to think there was a possibility of anything happening between Tyler and me. "But still, a player."
"You can't just hang out and be friends with someone nice if he's a bit of a whore? It seems to me like someone is denying herself something on purpose," Kat said. "You can't fool me, lady. You like him."
"No matter. All of this insanity will be over in a couple of months, and we'll never see each other again anyway," I said, feeling inexplicably sad at the prospect.
"True," Kat said. Why did her agreement annoy me so much? "Any plans for this weekend?"
"I'll probably stay in. Doug is throwing a party tomorrow night to celebrate the end of rehearsals. It's going to be pretty big- open bar, a DJ, the works. I don't want to go and deal with all of that though," I said.
"Why not?" Kat couldn't comprehend that anyone would consider not going to a Hollywood party.
An image of Vanessa all over Tyler popped into my brain. "It seems like it's just going to be a lot of drinking and schmoozing with studio executives. It's not really my bag," I replied, only lying a little bit about my true reason for not going. "I don't know. Maybe I'll pop in to make an appearance. The party is being held in the conference room of our hotel, so it's not like I can't just go for a few minutes then leave."
"You should go. You need to soak up this experience you've gotten that I am insanely jealous of. It's not every day a girl gets a chance to drink and schmooze with studio executives," Kat chided.
"I know. I've just been so tired. You know how crazy long our workdays are," I whined.
"Oh, please. I'm a chef. Twelve hour days are light workdays for me. Drink an energy drink and go to that party. Do it for me. Make sure you take lots of pictures and post them to your social media accounts so that everyone back home can look at your fabulous life and be jealous." What Kat meant was post pictures so that Dave and Fiona get jealous.
"Okay, okay," I said. "I can't promise I'll have a good time, though."
"That's okay. All that matters is making it look like you had a good time," Kat said.
"Is that what the cool kids are doing these days?" I asked.
"I wouldn't have any clue, I've never been a cool kid," Kat replied. "You were there for my childhood, remember?"
"You're ridiculous, and I love you," I said fondly. "I'm hanging up now."
"Okay, I'd better get to sleep. I have to be at the senator's at five in the morning on a Saturday." Kat mimicked gagging, then hung up.
I laid awake on my bed for a long time, thinking about Dave and Fiona and their new baby. It wasn't the actual act of them having a baby that hurt because I was so incredibly glad that Dave and I had never taken that step. It was that Dave hadn't thought I'd been good enough to have a baby with, or get married to, or even stay faithful to. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. It wasn't like I was in love with Dave anymore, or that I wanted to steal him back from Fiona and wreck their relationship. I just wasn't a big enough person to wish them well in their relationship.
∞∞∞
The next morning, I decided to take everyone's advice and go see more of Los Angeles. The only problem was I didn't know where to start. There were so many things to do here that it was almost overwhelming.
I typed Los Angeles tourist attractions into my web browser and considered my options. I glossed over all the normal stuff that I'd covered in my first weekend here, searching for something more unique. I was just scrolling past the LACMA again when something caught my eye- The Museum of Death. Interesting. Intrigued, I clicked on their website. "Located on Hollywood Boulevard, the Museum of Death exists to make people happy to be alive." This place was right up my alley. Just like that, I had plans for the day.
I got dressed quickly and headed to the coffee shop in the lobby for a quick cup of joe. I hadn't slept much the night before, and I needed a pick-me-up for my walk to the museum. It was a little over two miles, but I was so tired of driving everywhere that I had decided I would walk and take in the sights on the way to the museum. I placed an order for the largest regular coffee they had, then popped my earphones in while I waited for my drink to be ready.
I was lost in my own world, really jamming out, when someone tapped me on my shoulder, making me jump about a mile. I ripped the earbuds out of my ears and turned around to face a smiling Tyler.
"Getting your fix of venti orange mocha chai vanilla latte cappuccino?" he asked.
I laughed. "Nope. Drip coffee. The other stuff is delicious, but I need pure caffeine today. I'm going exploring."
"About time," he said. "What's on the agenda for today?" He grabbed me by the elbow, pulling me out of the way of a woman carrying eight cups of coffee stacked on each other. The contact was nice, and I leaned into him, glad for the excuse the lady and her balancing act had created.
"What was that again?" I asked, looking up into his face. Tyler had about a half a foot on me, and as a result, whenever we got close like this, I had to tilt my head all the way back to see him.
"Where are you going?" His green eyes were warm, with flecks of gold in them. It was hard to stay focused on a conversation when he was this close to me, knowing what he tasted like when his lips slid over mine.
"OLIVER!" The barista slid my drink onto the counter, and I snapped out of it, stepping away from Tyler and his hypnotic eyes.
"Thanks," I said, picking the coffee up with a frown. I turned back to Tyler as we walked to the milk and sugar bar. "I'm going to the Museum of Death. Have you heard of it?"
He looked surprised. "I've heard of it, but I've never been. Do you want company?"
I had no good reason to say no, and every part of me wanted to spend the day with Tyler, to be in his proximity. "Yeah, sure." I put the lid back on my coffee after pouring a liberal amount of sugar into it and looked curiously at Tyler's empty hands. "Are you still waiting for your coffee to come up?"
"I already had one today. I'm only here because I saw you through the window and I thought I'd catch you while you were still at the hotel. It looks like I made the right call." Tyler grinned winningly.
"Are you stalking me, Tyler Sutton?" I asked, eyes narrowed.
"Moi?" he asked, eyes wide. "No, never." He lifted his hands and shrugged in mock innocence.
"It wouldn't be the worst thing if you were," I said.
"In that case, I fully admit to stalking you," Tyler said readily, making me laugh. He held the door open for me as we left the coffee shop, and got held up holding the door for three older women who were right behind us. I smiled as I watched him charm the pants off them, pinching myself at how insane my luck was that I was spending the day with this man.
Once we were both in the hotel lobby, Tyler pulled a worn baseball cap from the back pocket of his jeans and some aviator sunglasses from his shirt pocket. He tugged the hat onto his head and pulled the sunglasses on, committing fully to incognito mode. "This looks obnoxious, I know, but it's necessary when I go out in public in this city. Too many people would recognize me otherwise," Tyler apologized.
"Geez, full of yourself much?" I said. Tyler chuckled and started walking.
The Museum of Death was only two miles from our hotel, and we walked comfortably together, enjoying the warm sunshine and talking about nothing in particular. When we got to the museum, whose giant wrought-iron gate was emblazoned with a floor-to-ceiling skull on one side and HOLLYWOOD spelled out in skulls on the other side, Tyler gestured for me to go in ahead of him.
We walked to the ticket booth together, where a goth girl was smacking her bubblegum and reading a magazine. "Hi there," Tyler said, turning on the charm. "We'd like two tickets, please." He pulled off his sunglasses, and the girl did a double take, then sat up with a flirtatious smile. She looked at me as if to say, "Girl, you are so lucky," and I nodded quietly.
Tyler paid for our tickets against my protests- "I invited myself, the least I could do is pay"- and we proceeded to the museum together.
The Museum of Death is, in a word, cool. It had exhibits featuring the Heaven's Gate suicide plot, original artwork by John Wayne Gacy and other serial killers, crime scene photos from the Manson family killing spree, and a host of other macabre exhibits that we'd never make it through in just one day. The museum was a little schlocky, but I loved it.
I worried at first that Tyler had just been humoring me and that he'd be weirded out by my interest in the museum. He seemed to be as fascinated as I was by the gruesome displays, though, pointing out particularly cringe-worthy torture implements and other, less painful, things, like the two-headed turtle.
We stood together in the serial killer exhibit, reading poems by Dennis Rader. "You know, he wasn't too bad," Tyler said. "I would buy this if I saw it in a poetry store."
"A poetry store?" I laughed. "And you're insane. This is an awful poem. I could do better than this."
"You're a professional writer. He was a security alarm installer, give him some credit," Tyler protested.
"I think we need to get out of here, you're defending BTK a little too passionately," I replied. Tyler laughed, but took me by the elbow again and led me out of the exhibit.
We emerged from the museum two hours later, souvenirs in hand and existential dread firmly in place. "That was awesome," Tyler said. "But I never want to die now."
"C'est la vie," I said.
"You picked the museum. Now I get to pick where we go to lunch," Tyler said.
I gagged a little. "How can you think about food after what we just witnessed?"
Tyler patted his very flat abs. "Iron stomach, baby. I could've eaten a four-course meal while we were reading up on Hannibal Lector. Come on. We can't walk to the place I have in mind. Let's go get my car from the hotel."
"I'm too afraid to say no," I said, following his lead down the street. I tried to tamp down the warm feeling bubbling in my chest when Tyler fell into step with me and grabbed my hand, looking down at me with a smile. He interlaced our fingers together, and we walked down the street hand in hand while Tyler pointed out notable places on Hollywood Boulevard.
As lovely as it was, I gently disengaged my hand from Tyler's when we were two blocks away from our hotel. I didn't want anyone from work to see us and start rumors about me being Tyler's new flavor of the week.
Tyler looked down at me knowingly. "Don't want to be seen with me and sully your reputation?"
"No, my hand was hot," I lied lamely.
Tyler raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. It turned out unlinking our hands had been a good decision. As soon as we got back into the hotel lobby, we were accosted by Vanessa, wearing a gorgeous pale pink romper that accentuated her golden tan.
"Tyler! I've been looking all over for you, babe!" she said, grabbing him and pulling him into a hug. She looked at me curiously. "Were you guys going over the script or something?"
I tried not to be insulted that Vanessa didn't consider that we could be doing non- work things together. "We went to the Museum of Death," I said. "Tyler ran into me on my way there and invited himself."
Vanessa wrinkled her nose in distaste at the mention of the museum. "Ew. Anyway, Tyler, I wanted to see if you'd run some lines with me in preparation for our first scene Monday."
Tyler shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, we were just about-"
"You guys go ahead," I interrupted. "I need to send some of my notes to Doug anyway, and I should really get started on that."
"What about lunch?" Tyler asked.
"You guys should go. I just remembered I have a lot of leftovers that are about to go bad. I need to start in on those," I said.
"Okay," Vanessa said quickly. She grabbed Tyler's forearm possessively. I refrained from pulling her fawning self off of him.
I hurried out of the lobby and to the elevator, looking back only once. Tyler stared at me in confusion, barely paying attention to the simpering Vanessa. I just bit my lip and disappeared into the elevator whose doors had just opened.
Who cares if Tyler thought I was a headcase now? That had been the right thing to do. Right?