The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance

“He doesn’t look like he’s scared of you.”

“How does he look at me?”

“Like you’re special.”

“Are you drunk right now?”

She lightly slaps my shoulder as if I’ve offended her. “Don’t be silly.” Her phone starts buzzing and she looks like she wants to say more, but she rushes off to take the phone call, leaving me with a chuckling Tucker manning the grill.

“What?”

“Women are so weird.”

He shakes his head as he turns away from me, leaving me with my own thoughts.

I need to stop focusing on my new guest and focus on the memorial happening in two hours. A memorial for someone special that was taken far too soon. A few deep breaths steady my nerves and I make my way back out behind the counter. Cole’s gaze hits me first and I notice the confusion swirling in his eyes. And maybe a hint of interest?

But as a new group of locals enters the diner, I don’t have time to dwell on it. Instead, I grab a set of menus and head toward them, tugging my hair over my shoulder to hide my scar.

“Table or booth?” I ask the group, ignoring the searing stare coming from Devyn’s table as I pass.

CHAPTER FIVE – DEVYN

When Larsen brought me to the apartment five hours ago, I could tell she was nervous about being alone with me, but as she showed me around the place, she seemed to loosen up a bit. I was pleasantly surprised with the modern fixtures and furniture. It reminded me more of a two-bedroom apartment in New York City, not the middle of nowhere Colorado.

She gave me a quick tour through the space and then left just as rapidly, leaving me wondering what I’m going to do for the night. It felt like an imposition to go to the memorial service, even though Jeff invited me himself. I didn’t want to take any attention away from a woman that deserved it all. During lunch, he had regaled me with stories of his love, how wonderful she was, how she opened her arms to everyone. After sitting with him for an hour, I felt like I knew her just as well as everyone else.

Once Larsen left, I immediately grabbed a towel from the linen closet and took a steaming hot shower to wash away the day. I felt like a new man.

The one thing I forgot about was dinner. With the town closed for the memorial, I hadn’t thought about how I would eat. I remember seeing a market and a convenience store on the walk with Jeff earlier.

Taking a chance, I leave the apartment, making sure to grab the key on the glittery pink keychain that Larsen had handed me when she showed me the apartment.

The convenience store boasts a closed sign as I pass, but I luck out when I find my way to the market store. The young cashier stares at me as I make my way toward the deli meats and cheeses, bread, and frozen meals. The place is small but well-stocked.

Out of instinct, I wait for the onslaught of fans and paparazzi. In LA I don’t go anywhere without Tessa, and if it’s necessary, I can hire a security detail. My star has fallen enough that it’s not needed as much as it had been when I was younger, plus the laws have become more stringent, at least in California. New places are always hard to gauge, but strangely, I feel safe here. Protected.

Walking back to the apartment, the skies have darkened. I didn’t realize how long I had stayed in the market, but I haven’t gotten to roam grocery aisles in a long time. I took the time to savor the experience. The streetlamps cast a yellow light onto the concrete and the locals that pass under its glow. I’m surprised to see so many people milling about, but I’m guessing that the memorial service has ended and people are heading home.

I draw closer to the building and something draws my eyes to the side window on the top floor. A light flickers on, and through the fabric of the curtain, I see a silhouette reach upward as if stretching. I know whose room it is and I feel like I’m invading Larsen’s privacy, no better than a Peeping Tom, but for the life of me, I can’t turn away. Something about this woman intrigues me. I watch as she pulls something over her head, I’m guessing it’s her shirt, then she reaches to her waist, my eyes losing the shadow of her hands, and then shimmies her hips working her pants down her legs.

A cat’s meow sounds across the street and I break my fixation from the window. I adjust the grip on the bags in my hand and continue toward the apartment, trying my hardest not to look toward Larsen’s door next to mine as I unlock my door, but I fail miserably.

My frozen dinner is as unappetizing as I imagined it would be. Nothing like the meals Tessa makes for us. My cell phone glares at me from the table, urging me to reach out to my cousin, who, no doubt, is worried sick and trying to track me down. Knowing the way she jumps to conclusions, she’s probably already contacted the police. I haven’t had the nerve to power it back on since I left Tahoe. Heaving a breath, I reach for the metal contraption and turn it on, waiting a full five minutes for the onslaught of pings and vibrations to end. I don’t waste time reading any of the messages, knowing they’re from Tessa and my agent. Instead, I type out a text message to my cousin telling her that I’m safe, not to worry, and that I’ll be in Chicago next week for the read through, then quickly power it back off. I should probably call her, let her hear with my own voice that I’m not injured, or kidnapped, but I can’t bring myself to do it just yet. The news of my parents’ return is still fresh in my mind. So much so that I haven’t slept since I left my hotel in Tahoe. The pull toward the bottle is strong, an urge I have to beat down with a hammer, but I’m succeeding. This new film role is far too important to getting back in the Hollywood limelight. I don’t want to mess it up for me, for Tessa, or for Quinn. They’re all counting on me.

A screeching clatter sounds from outside the window in the bedroom and I jump from my chair in alarm. I grab my phone and a vase from the table, just incase someone is trying to break into the apartment. The vessel being the first weapon that I find.

Slowly I make my way to the window and look through the glass, but I find nothing.

“Shit.”

Placing the vase on the floor by my feet, I slide the bottom half of the window up the track and stick my head outside. Larsen sits on the metal grating that composes the floor for an emergency stairwell; it connects both of our apartments like a balcony.

I’m about to close the window to give her some time alone but hearing my name leave her lips stalls me in my tracks. Sparing another glance in her direction, I realize that she’s leaning against her legs with a phone pressed to her ear. And not a sleek cell phone. No, Larsen cradles a piece of tan-colored plastic with a coil stretching through her window. A freaking landline. I haven’t seen one of those in years. This girl

is unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

“You don’t have to worry about Devyn, Uncle Jeff. I probably won’t even see him until he picks up his car. You realize that I’m an adult, right? Fine. Yes, I’ll be careful. And please, Uncle Jeff, I know you’re still grieving, but I can’t lose you too so please stop it with the alcohol. Un-huh. I love you. Goodnight.”