CHAPTER SEVEN
Funny, he never mentionedanything about a patio set being brought in.Roberta sat in her car in the driveway, tapping the steering wheel. A large patio table with eight chairs stood outside the back door of Taylor’s house. They definitely had not been there when she left for work that morning. A heavy feeling of foreboding settled on her as she walked into her house. Was tonight the night the parties started? Could she withstand the ruckus and still get her writing done?
Just after eight o’clock, she sat trying to write in her office upstairs when two Escalades arrived, packed with men.Oh no, here we go. She cringed thinking of her prediction of late-night parties lasting until the wee hours of the morning possibly coming true.
After a few minutes inside the house, Taylor and the men came out, arms loaded with refreshments, and took seats around the patio table. For the next few hours, the party held low, muted conversations interspersed with outbursts of riotous laughter. From her vantage point, it looked like they were reading from scripts, perhaps practicing lines. Their conversations weren’t excessively loud most of the time, but the outbursts interrupted Roberta’s concentration repeatedly.
She gave up trying to write, shut down her computer, and sat by the window spying on them. As the daylight faded, candles were brought out. The scrape of the match was not audible as far away as she was, but Roberta could feel the grating in her bones as she saw the match flare to life. Her jaw stiff and her muscles tensed, she sat stunned and speechless, watching the scene, the unsettling presence of the candles on the outdoor table.
She stayed up for the duration of their get-together, watching the flickering flames with muscles tensed, fighting back tears and a lump the size of Alaska in her throat. Only when they left after midnight, only when the candles were extinguished, could she get to her comfortable bed and sleep. Only to dream of red, orange, and yellow flames seeping under a door, yelping sirens, and choking on thick gray smoke.
Several more nights went by before Roberta saw Taylor again. He sauntered over, meeting her car as she parked. He looked every inch the movie star in designer jeans clinging to his hips and hugging his muscular legs. A tailored button-down shirt gave him a polished finish. “Pizza tonight? My treat,” he said through the car window, shifting his weight from foot to foot, reminding her of a four-year-old desperate to be excused to the bathroom.
Is he trying to make up for his behavior? Is he embarrassed as he should be by the trouble he was causing her?It was funny. Here was this thirty-year-old Hollywood superstar, acting like a regular guy. So worldly yet so much the boy-next-door.
Taylor was very different from any guy she had ever dated. She didn’t understand him like she did her other male friends. From what she knew of him from the internet, he had grown up in the Midwest until he was five before moving to Los Angeles. The son of a screenwriter, he’d started acting as a child, doing a couple dozen commercials before he turned fourteen. In his early teens, he landed a role on a sitcom. The show lasted eight seasons, taking him into his late teens and all the teeny-bopper fan magazines. All the while, he continued to attend public high school and date his long-standing girlfriend, Melissa Cahill.
After a two-year acting dry spell, he was cast as a supporting actor in what became an Oscar-winning movie. His performance earned him a starring role in the action thrillerStarkless Bounty. Another film,Undaunted Courage,set him up for an Oscar nomination for best actor. His third film,Sir Tuttle’s Tutelage,would be coming out soon. Critics already called it a victory for his first romantic comedy.
“Roberta? You okay?”
Roberta shook her head to clear it. Catching his concerned eyes, she smiled. “I’m fine. Tired. Sounds great.” Taylor looked around them before she could say another word, searching for something.
“What are you looking for?”
“Paparazzi and cameras,” he mumbled, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I don’t want you to have your face splashed all over the tabloids.”
A retort clung to the tip of her tongue, but Roberta bit it back.Or, in other words, you don’t want to be seen with me.Stung, she gathered her belongings from the passenger seat and flung open the car door, forcing Taylor to jump aside. So, he probably didn’t want his girlfriend tucked away back in California to see them together. It would not look good if someone caught a picture of him steering her into a house. Silently seething, she strode up to her back door and let the dogs out.
The dogs ran enthusiastic circles around Taylor until she reached for their empty dishes. Taylor ordered pizza before going home to change while Roberta fed the dogs. Returning fifteen minutes later, looking fit in shorts and a T-shirt, he took the dogs outside while she prepared the table for their dinner, complete with a pitcher of ice water.
“What would you like to drink?” she asked. “I’m having a beer. Would you like one?” Roberta walked toward the kitchen.
“Sure. I’ll have one.”
His reply stopped her mid-step. She looked back at him, her mouth open and silent.