Love Unrehearsed (34 page)

Marie groaned loudly. I knew how irritated she felt; I wanted to choke the asshole myself.

“Gary, easy.” Ryan tried the friendly and nonthreatening approach first, placating him. “Let us just get some of her things. Just her clothing and stuff and then we’ll be out a here. We won’t take anything else. You have my word.”

Gary snorted with derision, stepping into Ryan’s path. “Screw you, Ryan. Stay the hell out of my house. This is all your fucking fault, you know. Shit was fine until you came around.”

I bristled with horror when Gary said that. How the hell could Ryan be responsible for the demise of their marriage? In an instant, Mike shouldered up to Ryan, forever in protection mode. I could see the anger roiling through him as he squeezed his hands into fists. I had no doubt Mike desired to level Gary just for the sheer enjoyment of it.

Ryan appeared just as surprised as we all were. “My fault? You’re kidding, right?”

Marie moved closer to the door. “What is wrong with you? How the hell is any of this his fault? You’re delusional.”

Gary sneered at her. “Oh, fuck you, Marie. I am so sick and tired of hearing how their life is so fucking perfect and ours isn’t. Ryan does this and Ryan does that. It’s like nothing I’ve
ever
done for you was good enough. So you know what? I just don’t give a fuck anymore. Some other asshole can live up to your expectations now. I pity the next guy that puts up with your shit.”

My eyes quickly bounced from Gary to Mike, catching a twitch in his jaw from Gary’s verbal slap. Marie looked as if she were about to buckle at the knees.

“I hate you,” Marie breathed out, holding back her tears.

“Whatever,” Gary sneered at her as if he truly didn’t care anymore. Watching her three-year marriage crumble was painful. How quickly people go from wedded bliss to murderous glares. My heart broke for her.

She started after him but Mike grabbed her by the wrist. Her eyes bounced from his hand to his face, watching as Mike silently told her to stop with a shake of his head.

Gary appeared affronted by Mike’s intervention. “What, she’s fucking you now? I knew it. I fucking knew it. How long, huh? How long you been screwing around behind my back, Marie? Couldn’t get the fucking movie star you’re so in love with so you settle for his babysitter. That’s rich.”

Marie gasped. “You bastard! You’re the one who fucked some stupid skank, not me! You! Where is your little T-shirt-wearing whore, huh? She inside?”

“Only whore here is you,” Gary retorted.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you just said that.” I wanted to slap him so hard, he’d see stars for days. Ryan grabbed my wrist, keeping me from moving any farther across the lawn.

Mike stepped his hulking body into Gary’s path, protectively guiding Marie behind his back. “Careful what you say to her, man.”

Gary glared at him. “This doesn’t concern you.”

I was surprised Gary was brazen enough to pick a fight with Mike.

“Marie,” Gary barked, expecting her to jump.

Mike never took his eyes off Gary. He pulled Marie back again, keeping his body in between the two of them. “You’re done talking to her. You talk to me now.”

Gary’s hand curled into a fist, dropping some of his keys between the knuckles. “Oh, is that right?”

“She’s not your concern anymore,” Mike said low and deliberately, clearly meant to send a message. “You lost the right when you locked her out of her own house.” Mike stood his ground, eyeing the gesture and questioning the absurdity of it. “Better make the first swing count because that’s all you’re gonna get,” he added.

Gary took a moment to think about it, weighing his odds. Like he had a chance in hell to win that fight. He reluctantly backed down. “Marie, tell your friends to get the fuck off my property or I’m calling the cops.” As if to heighten his threat, he pulled his cell out.

“It’s my property, too, you know,” she argued back.

Mike glared at him as if he wanted to kill him, then turned and took Marie by the hand and tugged her toward the car, guiding her body in front of his. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Gary stood in the driveway, enjoying his moment of victory.

I climbed in the backseat with Marie and put my arm around her shoulder while digging out more tissues.

“I hate him so much,” Marie whispered through her tears to me.

“Babe,” Mike said from the driver’s seat as he drove down the block, “your house have a security system?”

Babe? When the heck did that start?

Marie wiped her cheek. “No.”

“Gary own any weapons?”

My eyes flashed to Ryan, who was staring over at Mike.

“Yeah,” she answered. “But everything is locked up in the gun safe.”

“Everything?” Mike questioned again.

Marie sat up. “He used to keep a revolver in the nightstand drawer in our bedroom. The rest are hunting rifles.”

“And where are those?”

“Gun safe is also in the bedroom.”

Mike nodded once. “You know where he’s going today? How long he’ll be gone?”

I heard Ryan mumble something. Mike held up a finger for him to wait.

Marie sniffed. “No idea.”

I caught Mike’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Taryn, directions. I need a hardware store.”

Forty minutes later, with the aid of a small tool kit, Mike gained us entry into Marie’s house. And I thought my public takedown in Paris was a big deal; I could only imagine what “breaking and entering” would look like on the front page. I felt like I was going to rattle out of my skin and then maybe hurl lunch.

“Stop worrying, Taryn,” Mike said, using one of Gary’s shirts to keep his fingerprints off the revolver he’d found in the nightstand drawer. I watched him unload it with familiar precision. “This is Marie’s house, too. There’s no legal order for her to vacate.”

Just seeing a gun in proximity to my body was nerve-racking enough; thinking about us getting caught and Ryan’s picture plastered over every gossip magazine had me reevaluating this as a very bad idea.

Mike pointed a finger at Ryan. “You, out. Marie, grab what you need. Try to be quick about it.” He guided Ryan by the shoulder, steering him toward the door. “We’re waiting outside—off the property line to avoid trespassing charges.”

I grabbed a garbage bag and started frantically packing whatever Marie told me to take, starting with her clothes.

Whatever shit we were in, we were in it together.

“Well, that was fun,” Ryan sarcastically joked, hauling the last garbage bag in through the back door. “Damn, something smells good.”

Mike took a big whiff. “Heck yeah. Taryn, go get us some of that.”

He made me laugh. “I’ll go beg Tammy to cook us supper.”

Ryan threw the black bag of clothes over his shoulder. “Invite them up tonight. We can all hang out.”

I opened the door from the hallway into the pub kitchen to see what Tammy was up to. It was a welcome distraction to the breaking and entering we’d just committed. “Hey, Tammy. Smells fantastic in here.”

She was busy adding ingredients into her industrial-sized mixer. “Oh, hey, Taryn.”

“I had to keep the guys from breaking down the door. What are you making that smells so yummy?”

She pointed to a rack. “Cherry tarts right now. Sorry, but I don’t have any extras.”

I eyed the cooling rack with longing and invited her and Pete to join us upstairs for dinner later.

She dusted her hands off on her apron. “Hey, before you go, can I talk to you a minute?” Tammy appeared troubled as she wiped her hands over and over again on a wet rag. “Is everything okay between you and Ryan?”

I wasn’t sure why she was asking. “Yeah. Things are great. Why?”

She tossed the rag into the sink. “I don’t know. Just wondering about the whole Thomas thing. I figured you might be fighting.”

“No. We’re not fighting. There is nothing to fight about.”

“Oh. I just thought he’d be mad about you hugging your ex like that. I figured you told him anyway.”

I felt myself getting slightly defensive. “There was nothing going on between Thomas and me. Melanie has been a friend of mine for years. I hope you don’t think that I was doing something inappropriate.”

“Oh no. No. That’s not what I meant. It’s just that I know how jealous Ryan is. I thought maybe he was mad and that’s why he came back here.”

“No. He had a break in filming so he came home.”

“Oh, okay. So what’s up with Marie? Is she dating Mike now?” she asked.

I shrugged, wondering why she wasn’t asking Marie these questions. “I’m not sure. They like each other. You do know that Gary has a new girlfriend, right?” Something was up. She wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

“This whole thing is putting us in a very awkward situation,” she said. “I mean, Pete and Gary have been friends for a long time and it’s like we’re being forced to pick sides.”

She definitely caught me off guard. “No one is forcing you to pick sides, Tammy.”

“Well, yeah, they kind of are. We’re getting married in four months and they are both in the wedding party. Pete and Gary have been friends for years. It’s not fair that he’d have to ask him not to come. No one seems to care how it affects us.”

“Tammy, I don’t know what to say. It’s your wedding. Gary made a choice—Marie is just dealing with that. He just locked her out of her own damn house. What kind of man does that?”

“Well, she’s with Mike. Can you blame him?” she snipped.

I was beginning to think she’d lost her damn mind. “How would you feel if Pete locked you out and wouldn’t let you get any of your stuff?”

“I didn’t know he did that. She’s been so busy around here and it’s not like we hang out together a lot when you aren’t around.”

“Everyone’s been dealing with a lot. Trust me. I don’t want you to think that we don’t care.”

“Oh.” She turned to take something out of the oven. “Well, since Ryan is here now, do you think that you can ask him if he’s going to be a groomsman or not? I mean, he hasn’t said anything to Pete and he avoided the topic on Friday when Pete mentioned it. It would be nice to know if I even have a freaking bridal party or not.”

I bristled at her anger. “Yeah, sure. He’s been busy filming a movie so I’m sure he’s not been avoiding anything on purpose. I’ll make sure to ask him to confirm.”

Tammy snorted as if that answer wasn’t good enough. “I’m sure he’s been in a great mood since your ex-fiancé has been coming around. Like he needs that crap.”

Like
I
needed that crap—or her crap right now for that matter. I was starting to wonder if all this wedding stuff was turning Tammy into a bridezilla. I certainly wasn’t going to become confrontational even though I wanted to.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to running your business. I’ll make sure to get an answer to Pete.”

I didn’t wait to give her an opportunity to respond, hurrying through the door and up my stairs as if the floor were on fire.

Ryan’s unbelievably nice ass was poking out of my open refrigerator door when I found him in my kitchen. “Everything okay?”

I wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my nose in the neckline of his T-shirt. “Can we elope instead?”

Ryan snickered and rubbed my back. “Sure. What brought this on?”

“Planning weddings apparently makes women go insane. I’m pretty sure Tammy’s growing fangs and claws.”

“Oh. That sucks. Is it contagious?”

“God, I hope not.”

He whispered in my ear, “You can always hire a wedding planner to do that shit for you.”

My head popped off his chest when I heard a loud crash and Marie’s high-pitched yell for help coming from the spare room. I found her surrounded by a few boxes and a whole lot of crap spilled out around her feet—clothing, books, and a slew of old videocassette tapes.

“Sorry,” she pleaded, still holding a box from tipping off the top shelf in the closet. I had to laugh at her panicked expression. “I tried to move one and they all came crashing down.”

Mike took the box out of her hands.

“Are these boxes full or what?” Ryan asked, opening one of them.

I folded up one of my mom’s old sweaters and set it aside, trying to clear a path. “That’s all of your fan mail from the last few weeks, hon. You need to either go through it or we need to pitch it.”

He looked astounded and confused. “All of this?”

“All of those boxes.” Marie pointed. “Including skanky underwear, sappy praise, and more death threats.”

He turned on her, and then turned his questioning glare on me. “Death threats?”

What could I say? As sick as it was, it wasn’t anything new. Several thousand of his fans hated that he was with me.

Some unspoken message passed between Ryan and Mike before Ryan cursed and then hauled one of the boxes out to my living room.

I boxed up all of the videos, noting that my name was written on the majority of them. Memories. Childhood memories. Memories that Dan and Jennifer Mitchell made for me.

Without even thinking, I grabbed the box of tapes and sat on my living room floor in front of the television, pressing the tape marked “Fourth of July 1986—Taryn 4 yrs old” into the aging VCR.

Ryan sat on the ottoman behind me. “Look at you! All curly blond ringlets.”