Love Unrehearsed (5 page)

“Taryn?”

Fingers touched my shoulder, startling me. Trish was standing behind me; her golden hair was pulled back by the sunglasses that rested on top of her head.

“Are you ladies ready?” Trish asked.

With a smile, I nodded and grabbed my purse. A large, chauffeured Suburban pulled up to the front doors and all of the ladies climbed in. Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the “hall of many dresses.” Well anyway, that’s what Marie called it. She was right.

“Oh, what a day,” Trish sighed, eyeing a shimmery, burgundy-colored Prada gown. I had separated myself from everyone else to follow her through the rows.

“Bet you’re glad to be out here instead of in the office,” I commented, figuring she was enjoying shopping more than working.

“You have no idea.” Trish exhaled with relief. “Especially since
she
is on the warpath today.”

I frowned slightly, pitying all of those poor people who had to deal with Marla on a regular basis.

“I still don’t understand why she’s so angry about things,” I muttered.

“I do,” Trish said, fumbling for her BlackBerry, which had just beeped. “She found out from the sleazy tabloids that her number-one client got engaged. Be glad that you missed that. She went absolutely ballistic.”

“I already know she despises me,” I grumbled quietly. “And that little-known fact adds a ton of stress on Ryan.”

“Don’t feel special. She hates everyone,” Trish said matter-of-factly, as her thumbs pushed a few buttons on her cell. “I’ve been with her for seven years and she still doesn’t like me.”

I flipped the tag over on a cream-colored dress. “Well, I didn’t like the way she talked to him this morning. She yelled at him like he was a child and I sort of wanted to punch her.”

“I wish you would have,” Trish said under her breath.

“Hate her that much, too?” I asked jokingly, following her around to the next rack of dresses.

Trish snickered uncomfortably. “Some days are worse than others. Unfortunately in this town, it’s hard to catch a break, no matter how skilled you are. That’s why so many actors are waiters. And PR? If you’re not with an established firm, you starve. Since I like to eat, I’ve learned to shut my mouth and do as I’m told.”

This morning’s badgering continued to plague me. “Trish, really, is it
that
bad that people know about our engagement?”

She paused. “Well . . . it
is
his personal business that’s out there now.” She moved a little closer. “Did he really stand on a table when he proposed?”

I sheepishly smirked and nodded to confirm.

Trish’s grin widened. “Can I see the ring?” she asked excitedly, requesting my hand. “Wow, it’s gorgeous! So that’s what half a million looks like. I’m so glad he went with William Goldberg. His rings are absolutely breathtaking. I love the huge trillions on the sides.” She laughed lightly while inspecting my ring. “This was definitely,
definitely
worth the trouble! Flawless . . .”

I didn’t understand; my brain seized when she let it slip how much Ryan spent on my ring. I shook my head, trying to prevent the high-pitched ringing and the urge to pass out from taking over. “Um . . . ahh. What do you mean? What trouble?”

“Sneaking Ryan around to meet jewelry designers?” she said tentatively. “I spent hours coordinating that. No offense, Taryn, but I was relieved when you couldn’t make it to the Academy Awards. I was freaking out trying to arrange a meeting without you knowing about it.”

My mind traveled back to the end of February, when I was recovering after being hit by a car and missed my first opportunity to be with him at the Oscars. I glanced at my hand, grateful to her in so many ways.

“Well, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for all of your hard work. I truly appreciate it.”

Just then something else dawned on me. “Wait . . . if you helped him get my ring then why is Marla so mad? I mean she obviously knew . . .”

Trish looked guilty. “She knew he bought a ring but Marla, being the evil bitch that she is, tried to ta—you know what? It doesn’t matter.”

I should have figured as much. “She tried to talk him out of it,” I muttered, finishing her sentence. “I’m bad for his career.”

Trish looked baffled. “Why would you think that?”

I’m surprised she had to ask. After all, it was her boss that did everything except say those exact words out loud. Marla’s actions and comments certainly got that message across. “What about the fans? Are they going to turn on him like that if he’s not single anymore?”

Trish laughed quietly at my apparently silly question. “His fans are not going to turn on him unless he starts making shitty films. I can’t believe she’s telling him to avoid it with Jimmy Collins tonight, though. Bad, bad, bad . . . ,” she muttered, shaking her head.

I stared at her, questioning why she felt that way, especially since she was working so hard to impress the evil bitch.

Trish pursed her lips, then smiled at a little black dress. “What do you think of this one for your friend Marie? I think this would look fabulous on her. All of the gowns that we preselected for you are in the dressing area. You’ll have to try them on. And now that you two are officially engaged, we need to get you lined up for all your appearance dresses. First rule of fashion, always know who designed your dress. It’s the first question anyone asks.”

I barely looked at the dress she held up. “Trish, talk to me. What should he do?”

“Nothing. Everything will go on the account and—”

“No, not about the dresses. The interview tonight. You seem to think he should handle it differently. Ryan thought she was going to tell him to admit our engagement. If it was up to you, what would you tell him?”

Trish recoiled. “Taryn, I can’t tell you that! Besides, if she ever finds out that I advised you, she’ll fire me on the spot. I can’t.”

I followed her around a circular rack of dresses, searching for a new angle. I wanted to hear her opinion now more than anything. “Okay. Well, what if I hired you to represent me—then would you advise me?”

She turned and looked at me, completely shocked. “You don’t understand. I don’t have any clients—Marla does. I have a tiny shithole apartment that I can barely afford, a crappy car, and college loans I’ll still be paying on when I die an old lady.”

“Trish?” I encouraged. “I swear, no one will ever know. Our secret.”

Trish took a deep breath. “Ahh,” she groaned, glancing around the store. “If she ever finds out that I talked to you, I swear I’m coming to live with you and Ryan when I’m homeless.

“The story is already out there,” she continued, “backed up with
picture
evidence. All those women, those fans, are clinging to the idea of romance with him and seeing him standing on a table and then down on one knee to propose to you—well that’s romantic as all hell. He needs to remain honest.”

I nodded in agreement.

“But it’s his business. It’s
his
choice and, well . . . yours, whether you want to keep your private life private or not.”

“Taaaar?” I heard Marie call out my name from the dressing room.

Trish’s panic was evident. “Shit, if Marla finds out I said
anything
 . . .”

“I won’t say anything—I swear—but I wish Ryan would get a second opinion before he goes onstage tonight. He believes everything that Marla tells him.”

Trish’s eyes flashed to the door when a few new customers walked in. “She already called Jimmy Collins’s producer.”

I thought about Ryan being in front of the cameras tonight delivering canned, lame answers. “If I get him alone, will you talk to him? You could really make a big difference in his career.”

Trish looked shocked. She kept shaking her head. “Taryn, no! I can’t!”

“He’s going to look like an idiot,” I muttered.

“Taryn, did you try on any of your dresses yet?” Ryan’s mother, Ellen, asked.

I motioned my answer; I had yet to even look at them. Ellen held up a midnight blue dress, but I was so preoccupied mentally that I only pretended to admire it.

“Come on.” Ellen pulled me along by the arm, hailing the stylist with her other hand. “We have to get you focused because we’re running short on time.”

I tried to put Marla’s condescending tirade out of my mind and enjoy the rest of the day, but the moment I saw her following Ryan when he came into the dressing room backstage at
The Jimmy Collins Show
my overwhelming hatred for the woman came rushing back. And despite Ryan’s outward appearance, I knew that just below the surface he was still somewhat forlorn.

I tried to be cheery enough for the both of us; after all, I was excited just being backstage like this, and it helped a lot that his father and Pete were here to lift his spirits. The men were talking about the Stanley Cup playoffs, joking that they were going to relocate their dinner plates by the first television they found in the restaurant tonight. I was thankful that Ryan’s brother kept his sarcastic, hurtful comments to himself this time. Ryan had enough on his mind; he didn’t need to be pushed over the edge tonight.

Marla was hovering around Ryan. She acted like he was
her
property, and she was on the defensive, blocking anyone who attempted to come close to him. She rudely interrupted the conversation he was trying to have with his family and I felt my anger flare. It was even more infuriating when she wouldn’t make eye contact with me. How petty and childish.

Sadness swirled back in me as she schooled him on the appropriate responses he should give during the interview to deflect any surprise questions Jimmy Collins might spring on him. Marla’s black heart didn’t change colors.

I stewed privately, twisting the diamonds on my finger to keep my hands busy while I paced behind the large black leather couch.

Ryan’s mother looked at me with concern in her eyes. “Taryn, would you like to sit?” Ellen asked, patting the space next to her on the couch. “Please. Come.”

I shook my head slightly, watching my fiancé intently. “That’s okay, Mom,” I said softly. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

Trish slipped into the room through the closed door. Her eyes darted around, quickly assessing the tension in the room. I hoped she could read my body language to see how upset I was. We all heard Marla clearly when she told Ryan to “try not to screw this up.”

My fingers clenched into the back of the couch to keep from lunging at her. Ellen let out a maternal tsk and an audible huff, glaring eye daggers at Marla.

Trish quickly intervened. “Marla, excuse me. An assistant just told me that the stage director is looking for you.”

“Now?” Marla questioned. She looked at her watch and collected her bag. “Stay with him,” she ordered.

Ryan was sitting in the swivel chair, rubbing his forehead.

Trish appeared conflicted as she sidled up to his chair. “Ryan? Can we talk for a minute?”

Ryan followed her to the back corner of the room.

“So, are you ready? Are you all right with the format?”

He shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Trish, just tell him,” I pleaded, gazing nervously back at the door. I knew we only had ten minutes, if that, to get Ryan prepped.

“Tell me what?” Ryan asked, confused.

Trish cleared her throat. “You know Collins is going to ask about the proposal regardless.”

Ryan sighed. “I know. He wants the exclusive.”

“I was just wondering . . . if Marla wasn’t advising you, how would you handle it?”

Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?”

Trish took a deep breath. “I think the advice Marla gave you might be a mistake.”

Ryan looked at me, questioning why we were doing this to him right before he was due to walk out onstage.

“It’s your personal business, Ryan, but look at it this way—if you deny that you’re engaged, now that there are pictures and videos, your credibility is going to be
worthless.
” Trish reflexively glanced over her shoulder again to make sure Marla was still nowhere to be seen.

“When Collins brings it up, I think you should admit to it. Don’t embellish the story with personal information; just be honest and somewhat open. Your fans are going to cling to you if you expose your sensitive, romantic side,” she continued.

“I’m worried about the extra media attention on Taryn,” Ryan said, looking worried and guilty at the same time.

“Don’t worry about me,” I said adamantly. Ryan shot me a look, wordlessly telling me that it was impossible for him to do that.

“If you don’t fess up to it now, the media is going to keep pursuing the story and it’s going to get worse. Hiding it will only sensationalize it and Collins already knows that Taryn is in the building.”

Ryan nodded. “Tomorrow’s press conference?”

“Covered, just like today. Still Q-and-A only on the film,” she quickly replied.

“But I’ve spent the entire day avoiding the subject,” Ryan stressed.

“I know, but Jimmy is going to put you on the spot out there in front of a live studio audience regardless, so you need to be ready for it. This is a huge story, Ryan, and you know he wants it! Collins is renegotiating his contract with the network and he’s looking for the ratings boost. If he gets you to admit it—”