Incidental Happenstance (46 page)

            They cheered him again, and Dylan grabbed his beer from Penelope and went to sit on the bench with the other guitar player who introduced himself as Gary. Dylan shook his hand warmly, and settled in to jam. Penelope’s face wrinkled up in disgust as a young stage hand with long stringy hair took Dylan’s seat and leaned toward her, smiling, to introduce himself.

            Dylan started strumming a background rhythm in a simple G key, not sure how accomplished Gary was, but indicating that he take the lead. The guy was pretty good, he thought, and Dylan started singing softly, making up lyrics as he went along. His pace increased and Gary matched him, Dylan scatting along with the tune. When they wound down, the group had expanded, others coming out of their little temporary homes to join in the festivities. The audience burst into applause, and Dylan nodded slightly, indicating to Gary with his left hand. “You’re good!” he said to the kid. “I’m impressed!”

            Gary sat up straight, the pride obvious on his young face. “That means a lot coming from you, Mr. Miller. Thanks so much!”

            “Hey, none of this ‘mister’ crap,” Dylan teased. “I’m not that much older than you. It’s just Dylan.”

            “OK!” he exclaimed. “Thanks, Dylan!”

            Dylan started playing
Brown Eyed Girl
, figuring it was a song every guitarist would know. Gary jumped right in and the whole crowd sang along, dancing in the shadows of the bonfire and sharing the evening. Dylan’s mind wandered to Tia, and the night they’d danced to this song—the night he finally realized that he was crazy in love with her. He smiled at the memory, and at the scene that played out before him. It really didn’t matter how big or small the audience was—he loved bringing joy with his music. The crowd cheered when the song ended, and Dylan jumped into another popular dance number.

            When it ended, Gary shyly shook his head, deferring to Dylan. “God, that was awesome—thanks so much Dylan,” he said, blushing. “But that about does it for the extent of my talent. Maybe you could play something for us?”

            The audience voiced its agreement, and Dylan sat back down on the bench. “I’d be glad to,” he said. “This here’s an old cowboy song,” and he began strumming an inro. When his voice joined his instrument, a hush fell over the crowd. God, Penelope thought, he’s really good. His voice was slow and deep, soft and melancholy. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, and she noticed no one else could either. They were completely captivated, swaying slowly as one while Dylan wound his way through the words, his voice rising and falling, telling the sad tale.

           
“In the middle of the night under the deep dark sky… I see her sitting in black over my bones she’ll cry…and I never got to tell her though I thought I would…that I didn’t deserve her that I weren’t no good…In the middle of the night under the big full moon… I was way too young and I went too soon… but I got too drunk and I done her wrong...couldn’t stand to see her face cause I ain’t that strong…So from the big long bridge I looked down and fell…God ain’t gonna save me I’m goin’ to hell…I want to tell her to go but I need her to stay…to let the warmth of her tears wash my sins away.”

            When his voice fell away hauntingly, and he had gently plucked the last note, there was a moment of silent appreciation before the ever-growing group burst into enthusiastic applause. “Thank you,” he said, in true rock star form, picking up his beer and draining the bottle. He stood up to go, but they begged for one more and he gave it to them—one of InHap’s more popular songs. The small roar of approval they showered upon him when he finished sounded just as good to him as it did in a big stadium; he was really glad he came.

            Penelope took the opportunity to jump from her seat and throw her arms around him in an embrace from behind the bench. It would be good for these people to start seeing them as a couple, she thought, and she didn’t like the way a lot of the girls were looking at Dylan, as if he were a mouse to their hungry cats. God knew he’d already fallen for a school teacher, so she wasn’t taking any chances. Better stake her territory, she decided. Dylan just stood up casually and out of her embrace without acknowledging her and walked back to the cart, much to the audible disappointment of the group. They wanted more, it was obvious.

            He turned back, grabbed another beer from the cooler, and faced the group, who were collectively watching him. “I said I’d bring the beer next time, and I meant it,” he said. “I’ll see you next Friday night right back here. But for now,” he said, stretching his arms over his head, “I’m beat, and I’ve got an early shoot tomorrow.” He climbed back into the cart, hoping Penelope would decide to stay, but she immediately jumped in beside him. She gushed over him all the way back, and he found himself wishing he had a faster cart.

            Tia woke up on Sunday full of anticipation. It was late October, and fall had painted the trees in dozens of beautiful colors. She sat on her patio with her coffee, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt to ward off the chill and watching the leaves drift lazily to the ground. The robins and hummingbirds had left, and the first of the dark-eyed juncos were just starting to arrive. She savored the bite in the air—she couldn’t ever remember wanting winter to arrive, but now she couldn’t wait for the first flakes of snow to start flying. Better still, she had flipped over three months on her calendar since she’d arrived home, and just two more flips would take her to the month when she’d see Dylan again. She was expecting a call from him, and he had a free day; so they could have a real conversation without interruptions.

            “I miss you, baby,” he said. “It’s eight in the morning here—what time is it there?”

            “Two in the afternoon—yesterday,” she said. She had the time difference down now and no longer had to count the hours that separated them.

            “I just crossed your today off on my calendar,” he said. “This month’s almost done. You doing OK?” he asked.

            “Oh, Dylan, it’s so much harder than I thought it would be. And I pretty much thought it would be impossible.”

            “Just another six weeks,” he said. “And then we’ll be together again. I have Jessa working on your tickets as we speak. I should have my days locked in by the end of the week, but it looks like I’ll be home by the time you start your break, so she’ll start looking for flights that match up,” he said. “I want every minute I can get with you.”

            “I’ll feel so much better when I have it my hand,” she said. “Then at least I’ll know it’s real and that I’ll see you again.”

            “You know I can’t wait to see you either. Oh hey, before I forget,” he added, “Bo said to tell you he’s coming through Chicago next weekend. He wants to know if you want to do dinner with him.”

            “I’d love it!” she said. “It’d be great to see him!”

            “I’ll let him know and get back to you with the details. I think he said something about inviting Lexi too. I wish it was me meeting you though, I’m already jealous.”

            “I wish it was you, too. I always do.”

            They spent the next hour chatting about little things and remembering parts of their summer. Tia grilled him about his parents and the rest of his family, so she could be at least somewhat prepared. “They’ll love you, don’t worry,” he said sincerely. “Even if I didn’t love you, they still would; but I do, so I know they will too.” 

            “I just can’t wait to see you,” she said.

            “Expect the tickets in the next few weeks or so. I still haven’t figured out how the mail works from here. What letter did you get last?”

            “Copenhagen,” she answered. “I love that you send pictures with every letter. It helps me relive the summer all over again, and they bring such good memories.”

            “I’ve already sent Stockholm and Oslo, so they should arrive soon.”

            “I can’t wait.”

            “I love getting your letters too. They’re the highlight of my day every time I get one. Don’t stop sending them, OK?”

            “No way,” she said.

            “I miss you my lovesincerely. he whispered. “I’ve written two more songs for you—I can’t wait to play them for you at Christmas.”

            “I love you,” she whispered. “I can’t wait to hear them.”

***

            Angela Barker was nothing but a fame hog, and she would do pretty much anything to get ahead. She was a competent assistant, but what she really wanted was to be a star, and Penelope knew she could use that to her advantage. God knew she’d stepped on enough toes and used a few people to get ahead, and she saw in Angela some of that same relentless drive she’d had when she was starting out. All Penelope had to do was dangle the right carrot, and in the end all it took was a promise to get her some auditions, and she was fully on board with the plan. It made it easier that Angela didn’t really know Tia and that Dylan would never know just how he’d been played. She spent the good part of an evening laying it out for her, and explaining the role Angela would play.

            “You know how celebrities are Angela, you’re practically one of them,” she confided, happy to see the gleam in her assistant’s eyes when she heard the compliment. “We walk a different line than normal people, and no one else can really understand us, am I right?”

            “Absolutely!” she agreed. “It’s a completely different kind of life, and not everyone can handle it.”

            “Yes!” Penelope exclaimed. “You’re going to survive it though, because you’ve got what it takes.”

            “You really think so?” Angela asked hopefully.

            “Without a doubt,” Penelope said with a wink. “I wouldn’t agree to support your career if I didn’t.”

            “And you’d help me get auditions? Real ones, for decent parts?”

            “Honey, if you play this part right, and Dylan and I end up together, I will guarantee you at least a supporting role in a major production.”

            Penelope watched as Angela rolled the promise around in her head. She kept her face open, warm, and interested, and smiled to herself as the corners of Angela’s lips turned upward in a sly smile.

            “I mean, it’s not like I’m hurting anyone, really, right?” she said, convincing herself.

            “Well, let’s be realistic,” Penelope said. “I want you to go into this with a clear head and a clear conscience.” She leaned over and poured Angela another glass of wine. Just two girls sharing a secret over a bottle of chardonnay, she thought ruefully. “We have to look at the big picture here.”

            Angela took a sip of the wine and looked at Penelope. She could be a real bitch sometimes, but she was big in Hollywood and she definitely knew how to get what she wanted. And if she wanted to help Angela along in her own acting career, it would happen. This movie would be good and Penelope would get a lot of the credit for that—she was a damn good actress. She had clout in the industry, and knew all the right people. A few months down the road, Angela could be looking at her own name in lights and she just knew that once she was out there, she’d hit it big. It was that first chance that was the hardest to come by, and Penelope could hand it to her on a silver platter. That was her big picture, and she liked the way it looked.

            Penelope continued. “At first they’re both going to be hurt, Angela, you have to be prepared for that. Dylan really thinks he’s got a future with this girl, and he’s not going to take a break-up easily.” A shadow crossed Angela’s face, and Penelope acted quickly to diffuse it. “But,” she said pointedly, “we both know it’s only a matter of time for them. Look at the track records of other celebrities who try to make it with average people. It just doesn’t work. There isn’t any way to make those two worlds come together. They’re going to be hurt anyway, and probably more so after they’ve invested even more time and energy into each other.”

            Angela considered this. “Especially since he’s in a band, too,” she added. “He’ll be away on tour all the time, and that makes it even harder.”

            “Exactly,” Penelope agreed. “Plus, I really like Dylan, and I could make him really happy. I want to make him happy. I understand him and the world we both live in. He makes me want to be a better person—I’m really falling for him, Angie, and I just know we’d be so good together. This is my shot, while we’re far from Hollywood, to really get to know each other. But it won’t happen until he can see the possibility of
us,
and once he does, I’ll make sure he’s happier than she could ever make him.”

            There were still a few unsettling feelings rolling around in Angela’s mind, but the prize was too good to pass up. She’d seen the way Penelope looked at Dylan, and she was certainly being a nicer person lately. He’d been good for her so far, and who knew? Maybe they could make it. “OK, I’m in,” she said.

            “Do you want to take some time to think about it, Angie?” Penelope coaxed. “If you do this with me, we do it all the way. I don’t want you coming to me halfway through with a change of heart or a guilt trip—because that would mean all bets were off. If you betrayed me, I’d have to seriously reconsider my role in making or breaking your career, so you need to be absolutely sure that you can see it all the way to the finish.”