Devyn leans his elbows onto the table, his forearms stretched out toward me as he takes my hand without the chip into both of his. It’s my left hand, the normal one, the undamaged one with the only blemish being a few freckles from the summer sun.
“The funny thing about being a celebrity is that you both crave and despise the publicity. I love acting, it’s all I’ve ever known, and I was given great power in my name and talent. There was nothing I couldn’t do or a place I couldn’t visit. But the moment you slip up the world turns its back on you and treats you like vermin. It’s a tough job. But I can’t imagine doing anything else. I take the good with the bad.”
The way he rubs the pads of his fingers across my palm leaves a wake of electricity with each pass.
“I don’t know if I would be strong enough to handle that. I worry that one of my neighbors is going to get my medical bill by accident and then tell everyone.”
“Medical bills?”
A false giggle emerges from between my lips as I start to trace the back of each of his fingers as a distraction. “I wasn’t born with these scars.”
Beneath my fingers I feel his hand tighten into a fist, his arms grow rigid and tense at my claim.
Fury spreads from his body in waves. I can feel the pulses against my skin. “Did someone hurt you?” he growls. I look up and watch his eyes darken, the color turning almost black in his ferocity to protect.
“Not the way you’re thinking. Don’t worry. Let’s talk about something else, or we can play another round?”
“Larsen,” Devyn bellows as if he assumes his gravelly voice should have me quaking in my seat. If he were anyone else I probably would, but Devyn doesn’t scare me.
Standing up, I snag another nacho and make my way back down to the lane while shoving it into my mouth, savoring the cheesy goodness. I grab my ball from the return and turn back to Devyn who still stares with a fiendish expression.
“Come on. Let’s play another.”
It takes a minute but he stands from the table, his chair scratching against the linoleum floor, the noise echoing in the cavernous room even though it’s filled with people. Devyn struts toward me until his body stands only an inch from mine. I try not to appear frightened as he leans forward, bringing his nose and eyes to my level. I’m certain I fail.
“You’re going to tell me what happened.” He says it as a command, as if he’s used to everyone falling at his whim.
“No, I won’t. You’re only here for a day or two then you’ll be off doing whatever it is you do. No need to worry yourself over someone that you’ll forget about soon enough.”
He leans closer and I think he’s going to kiss me and I mentally prepare myself for the brush of his lips, but I’m left wanting as he slips his mouth past my cheek and heads for my ear.
“I couldn’t forget about you if I tried,” he murmurs before taking a step toward the return for his own ball. “Now come on, friend. Let me show the teacher how well I learn.”
He isn’t a liar, that’s for sure. It was as if those first two rounds were just practice. Devyn manages two turkeys in a row. The only other person I’ve seen do that is Uncle Jeff. A crowd grows around us; mostly the league members in awe of watching a celebrity grace our lanes.
I wait at the shoe rental station as Devyn signs a few autographs. I’m actually surprised at how many people know who he is. The few articles I read said that he pretty much fell off the Hollywood map once he landed himself in rehab the first time. A lot of his fellow actors claimed that he was difficult to work with. Other than a few indie films here and there he hasn’t done much of anything. He still has a large fan base though. The show he starred in as a child runs in syndication all over the world.
Savoring the limelight, he stands in the middle of the gathering. His body is relaxed, taking it all in. One of the women cozies up close to him, whispering in his ear, but he immediately lets her down. I watch in fascination as he looks up from the printed score sheet that he’s signing and catches my eye. Devyn grins in a way that is both an apology and a promise. I don’t struggle against my returning grin, couldn’t even if I tried. Those chocolate eyes of his glimmer in pleasure before he goes back to finishing the autographs.
A funny feeling grows in my gut, a flickering of nerves. Not quite the butterflies I’ve heard so much about, more like a small spark of a flame, but instead of one, it’s hundreds of them.
“Oh, I know that face,” Thomas, the man that runs the bowling alley, says from behind the counter.
Spinning around, I look over at him in confusion. He answers my silent plea to explain more.
“Yep, I remember both of my girls with that silly grin on their faces. You got a thing for that boy.”
Trying to situate my invisible shield back in place, I shake my head in response. “No, we’re just friends. He leaves in a few days once his car is fixed.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t be more. Seems to me like he’s interested, especially after all the trouble he went through tonight.”
A puff of air escapes between my lips in a sarcastic chuckle. “Have you seen the kind of women he dates? A supermodel I am not.”
With the kind of face a granddaughter would cherish, he looks over at me with a loving but sad smile. The kind where the corner of the eyes crinkle, but the lips pucker as if he’s eaten something sour. “No, you’re not, Larsen. You’re so much more than that – beautiful inside and out.”
He reaches over and squeezes my hand that rests on the top of the counter. The fluttering in my stomach moves behind my eyes as I fight back the tears building on my lids.
From behind I feel a strong arm wrap around my waist, pulling my attention away from Thomas. “Hey, ready to go?”