Mayne Attraction: In The Spotlight (22 page)

“I don’t know what it is, but something’s
definitely wrong with her,” she replied, like I couldn’t hear.

Through my abstraction I heard someone’s
phone ringing. It just kept on ringing. Suddenly, I realized it was
my phone! No one had ever called me on it, so I didn’t know what it
sounded like. In a panic that I’d miss his call and then he’d never
call me again, I scrambled for the cell phone the way a person with
a grenade in their purse might move when they were trying put the
pin back in before it exploded.

Miraculously, I was able to answer the call
before it went to voicemail. I paused for a second or two to summon
a bit of false decorum. Then the euphoria washed back in like the
tide.

“Hi,” I said.

The happiness was impossible to
suppress.

“Is it all right if I call you now?” asked a
voice that was every bit as appealing as the face that went with
it.

“Yes. I was hoping you would. Where are
you?”

It was getting dark now and I could only see
myself in the windows and not the world beyond.

“I’m parked at the bakery across the
street.”

I turned in the direction he’d indicated and
I sent him a slightly embarrassed but still very happy feeling
smile. I wished so badly that I could see him as well. He responded
to my signal with a quick one-syllable laugh.

Then he asked, “Wasn’t your ice cream any
good? You seem very distracted tonight.”

It was so obvious that people across the
street could tell. I felt my cheeks burning in response. Sam and
Trevor were watching me like a traffic accident on the shoulder. I
needed to work out some subterfuge (an expedient used to hide
something or escape a consequence) immediately.

“I am. I’ll be home soon. We’re almost
finished here.”

I turned to look at my rubbernecking framily
as I said this, for their benefit. It was hard to tell if they were
buying it or not.

“Is there a way we could talk for a few
moments before you turn in for the evening?” he inquired.

Now things really were going my way. I’d
already thought this through and had my answer all ready to go,
plus it played into the subterfuge.

“Oh, I think that’s in the tree house. I’ll
check before I come in, okay? See you in a bit.”

I wasn’t sure how long I could keep cool, so
I was in a hurry to wrap up this public discourse, doubling as my
phone conversation.

“Wait. One question,” he interjected before
I could disconnect. “When did you get a cell phone?”

I hadn’t thought that one through at all. I
chose to dodge it completely.

“Later, okay? Love you. Bye.”

I closed the phone and put it back in my
purse.

My friends were testing me, I believe, to
see if I would make a move or say something to tip my hand. As much
as it was killing me, I didn’t play into it. I didn’t ask about
leaving or give off a single vibe of impatience. Instead I used the
extended period of time that we sat there at Graeter’s—long after
their ice creams were gone and mine was a bowl of lukewarm
chocolate soup—preparing for what I would say to my love in our
private follow-up encounter. This was the aspect that I had not
allowed myself to plan for, out of respect for Murphy’s Law and the
dominant role it usually played in my life.

After I stepped out of Trevor’s car and made
my way to the porch, I turned around like I was watching them drive
away. Then I hesitated for a few moments, checking to see if Mom
had seen the headlights pulling in. She didn’t come looking for me
so I decided to head directly for the tree house. There was
moonlight providing subtle illumination, but once I made it inside
the arboreal mini loft, the difference between eyes open and shut
was indistinguishable. Mercifully, he didn’t make me wait.

“Ellery?” he called quietly. “May I come
up?”

“Yes.”

Oh please, please do!

He climbed up and positioned himself across
from me, his feet touching against my own. As soon as he was
settled, I clicked on the flashlight lantern that I had left for
myself earlier in the day and its warm glow filled the very crowded
space. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, and then a
glorious, warm and inviting smile lit his features, adding extra
brightness to the room.

I offered my hand like I was introducing
myself and said, “This is a little redundant, but….my name is
Ellery Mayne.”

He understood and shook hands with me. It
felt so good just to touch him. It helped to dispel the sense that
I was dreaming.

“And my name is Ash Ryan. I can’t tell you
how happy I am to finally meet you,” he said with a smile that was
spiced with a trace of humor.

“I’m happy too,” I replied in complete
understatement.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I have a few
questions for you,” I continued.

I felt awkward and shy, but I was still very
high and it helped me cope.

“You can ask me anything you like,” he
assured me.

“Why are you and the others watching
me?”

It seemed like that was the best place to
start.

His manner was open and not at all defensive
or evasive.

“I work for a security and surveillance
company and we were hired to provide transparent protection for
you. That means we are paid to keep you safe, but not interfere in
your life, if possible. Our employer wishes to remain anonymous.
It’s one of the terms of our contract.”

So even they didn’t know who wanted me
followed.

Interesting. Not the least bit helpful, but
interesting.

Also, I’d say they had applied the very
loosest interpretation to the guideline about not interfering in my
life, but I wasn’t complaining. As I thought these things through
he asked me a question in return.

“May I ask you a question?”

He was so polite and sincere. I loved it. I
loved him. I was actually getting higher, it felt like. I hoped it
wasn’t a hard question. I didn’t want him to be disappointed with
me only seconds into our conversation.

“Okay?”

“When did you realize that we had you under
surveillance?”

Shoot!

I should have required that he submit a list
of all questions prior to our meeting so that I could be prepared.
Oh well. Being honest was the right way to go, plus it would take
less brainpower.

“It was the day that I was almost abducted
by those two thugs in front of the drugstore.”

I searched his features trying to sense his
response to what I was certain would be a shocking reply.

His reaction was extremely satisfying. He
was lost in thought for a long time, probably seeing scenes of our
life in close proximity through a completely new filter. Once his
eyes stopped darting and I felt reasonably sure his mind had
returned to present time and place I asked the most important
question of all, as bravely as I could. It was nearly
inaudible.

“When did you…realize…how you felt about
me?”

He didn’t stop to think; his answer was
automatic.

“It was love at first sight,” he replied,
very sincerely, holding my gaze.

It completely silenced the cynical naysayer
in my mind who insisted that his attraction must surely be rooted
in some financial motivation, as opposed to a truly romantic sort
of magnetism. The peaceful quiet in my mind matched the silence
inside the tree house for a time and that euphoric tide washed back
over me again. But then I realized that he was going to ask me the
same question, and I could feel the embarrassment building over
having to confess my shallowness to him.

“May I ask the same of you?”

Honesty. Go with honesty.

“The very same,” I confessed.

He seemed pleased with this answer. That was
a relief.

“When was that, exactly?”

Oh no.

I didn’t think honesty was going to go over
quite so well this time. But it was his reaction to what I’d done
to him that had endeared him so much to me in the first place. I
decided to make a full confession. It would be a good test of his
character to see how he handled my stupidity; something he’d need
to be an expert at if he intended to spend any additional time with
me in the future.

“The day my best friend, Sam, took me home
when I got sick at the theater last fall.”

His eyes started darting in that unfocused
stare into the past, back to Tinseltown, to what I knew had been a
very bad day for him. I watched him reviewing the entire episode
until his eyes flashed back up to mine. There was no anger at the
memory, just confusion, it seemed. I was bracing myself and it must
have been pretty obvious.

“What is it? What am I missing?”

What you’re missing is how I wronged
you!

“Do you promise not to be mad at me? It was
very early on, before I’d ever seen you, and I never would have
done it if I’d known what it would be like for you. I felt
absolutely horrible afterward.”

He was still at Tinseltown. His eyes had
fallen to the floor while he replayed the events in his mind. I
decided the best way to explain would be to recreate the soundtrack
to a particular scene. So Kit, my British Goth alter ego, spoke up
and said, “Do you think it could have been this Ellery who was
retching in the last stall?”

Just like when he had physically responded
by veering towards the restrooms that day, his head snapped up from
looking at the floor, and veered back to my face. Those unusual,
gorgeous, intense eyes were now about three times their normal
size, as they bore into my own. I observed him carefully as full
understanding dawned over him. He looked totally shocked. I had to
remind myself that there is power and advantage in being
underestimated, and that I had no business being affronted.

My business now was to explain myself to
him.

“Sam thought it would be fun to trick our
friends and I agreed to let her dress me up in Goth, though my
reasons were different. I had never seen any of you at that point;
well, accept for Helga. And I thought it would be a good way to
flush you, well, not specifically you, but one of you…out. It
worked.”

His eyes were looking through me once again,
taking his thoughts back to the lobby at Tinseltown, to the Goth
consortium he’d approached for help.

“Then, when you came up to us, to ask about
me, I thought I was going to pass out,” I explained, laughing at
myself.

“But you didn’t recognize me, and all I
could think about was that you were worried for me, well, more than
that. You looked kind of…panicked.”

I cringed at the memory of that.

“So it was a combination of things. You were
the most handsome boy I’d ever seen in real life; but I’m not
shallow, I mean, looks aren’t everything to me, that is. But it was
the way you looked, your expression. Not ticked off, like I’d given
you the slip, but genuinely worried, like you cared about me, about
what had happened to me.”

I was searching his eyes for the final
judgment and overall reaction to my unkind deed.

He spoke calmly, and a soft reassuring smile
played in his expression.

“I was. I did then and I do now.”

Oh good.

My stupidity hadn’t chased him off…just yet.
His eyebrows pushed up and into each other.

“Who’s Helga?”

I laughed once.

“Oh, that’s my nickname for the little
Austrian lady that kicked butt in front of the drugstore.”

That shocked look flashed back, for just a
second before it evened out and he said, “Her name is Petra Von
Hirt. She and her husband Max were there that day. They put you
back in bed because they thought they would be fired if you
remembered them. We get released if you engage us. There’s a zero
déjà vu policy in place. We can’t be transparent if you recognize
us.”

We both smiled at the irony.

So it was just as I’d suspected. When I had
approached any agent directly, they’d been dismissed directly. I
knew Ash was special, obviously. But under these rules my idiotic
stunt with the corn-hole game pieces should have been our final
encounter. Though I was burning with curiosity over this anomaly, I
decided to let that mystery go for now, and just be thankful for
the atypical outcome.

He asked the obvious follow-up question
now.

“So, I saw you leave the theater, looking
pretty sick. How was that possible if you were dressed up,
in…Goth?”

In a tiny voice my self-preservation
instinct objected to giving this secret away, but it was overruled
by the rest of me that wanted to make the full confession.

“Well, right after the movie, we went to the
Ladies’ Room and dressed me up in the handicapped stall: clothes,
makeup, wig, and platform boots. Then we came out and she
introduced me to our Goth friends as her cousin from England. Not
long after that, you came up asking about me. I felt terrible for
tricking you when I realized you thought something bad had happened
to me. That’s when I decided I’d better say something about how
maybe it was Ellery getting sick in the last stall. We went back
in, supposedly to help ‘Ellery’, and I changed back into my normal
clothes and cleaned all the make-up off. Then I pretended to be
sick and Sam walked me out and drove me home. Except after I saw
how upset I’d made you…I really did feel sick. I’m so sorry.”

Although I wasn’t sorry for the way it had
all turned out, leading to this unlikely but still very likable
encounter tonight.

There was a moment of pause while we
gathered our thoughts. I began to feel that same old self-conscious
burn because I’d done too much talking, wondering which admission
or turn of phrase had done the most harm to his estimation of
me.

“Ellery, you can’t imagine what it means to
me, to be here with you, speaking face to face. I’ve been dreaming
of this for a very long time, but I never thought it would happen
so soon. I have feelings for you that I realize are inappropriate,
or perhaps premature, considering the difference in our ages, and
the circumstances of my employment.”