Remember When 3: The Finale (Remember Trilogy #3) (11 page)

  
His smile broke out full-force at that. “Nah. He doesn’t go to those things anymore.”

   “Darn. Now I won’t get a chance to hit on him.
I might have to slip my phone number in the glovebox or something when we get back in his car. You’re okay with that, right?”

  
Trip didn’t even raise his eyes from the menu as he shot back, “Sweetheart, he might be the only guy I’d let you dump me for.”

Chapter
14

HEIGHTS

   After dinner, Trip was intent on showing me his favorite place in Hollywood, so we took the scenic route up Western Canyon and found ourselves at Griffith Observatory. It was after hours, so it’s not like we could have gone inside, but Trip only wanted to wander around the grounds anyway.

   He took my hand and excitedly pulled me in the d
irection of the domed building, explaining how, “Parts of
Rebel Without a Cause
were filmed here. ‘
I’ve got the bullets’?
Yeah right there by the front doors. C’mon. I’ll show you where they filmed the knife fight. And there’s a statue here somewhere of Dean, but I don’t remember exactly where it is. We’ll find it.”

   We made our w
ay up the white concrete ramp to a walled patio on the second floor. Trip peeked over the side and pointed. “Knife fight. Right there.”

   I took a look and was surprised that the spot actually looked familiar.
“Oh yeah! You’re right. It looks smaller than I thought it would be.”

   “Everything looks bigger on the screen.
Except me. I’m just as huge in real life. So’s my dick.”

   I rolled my eyes
on that one.

  
He hopped up to walk along the concrete knee-wall, gave a scan across the grounds, and changed the subject. “I haven’t been here in a while, but I came here a lot back in the old days.”

   He was making me nervous, balancing up on that
partition like a Flying Wallenda. I hauled myself up to sit on the edge, waving my hand out to him to get down. “Trip, you’re causing me to panic, here. Please come sit with me so I don’t have to worry about your brains splattering out all over the concrete.”

  
He chuckled as he jumped down, then sprawled out along the top of the wall with his head in my lap.

   I ran my fingers through his golden hair, saying, “You need a haircut.”

   He closed his eyes and just gave a contented, “Hmmm,” smiling and practically purring at my touch.

  
I breathed in the night air, registered its balmy warmth. Even at night, everything in southern California seemed so
green
. I was happy to have escaped the winter doldrums of Jersey for a little while. Happier still because I had Trip at my fingertips. I looked down at the smiling, contented man in my lap and nearly sighed. He always looked so young with his eyes closed like that. Always looked like the boy I had fallen in love with all those many years ago. The boy who never stopped loving me.

   I tore my gaze from the god within my grasp and checked out the view.
From our vantage point, I could see the Hollywood sign lit off in the distance, and wished I’d thought to bring my camera. It really was a beautiful place. The domes of the planetarium were illuminated by flood lamps, the white, concrete walls surrounding it virtually glowing from the deflection. The grounds of the observatory were abandoned at such a late hour, the flat, green lawns quietly breathing in the faint moonlight. It was peaceful, there. I could see why Trip chose the place as his sanctuary.

   I ran a
fingertip along his temple, saying, “I get why you come here to escape. It’s…
quiet
.” I’d lived in New York for nine years. Trip had been in L.A. for eleven. Quiet was a luxury.

   He laced his fingers across his chest and took a deep, contented breath.
“Quiet’s not that easy to come by these days.”

   I knew he was talking about more than just the
noise level of his city. The guy had been living in a circus for the past five years. I couldn’t even imagine. I’d found a bit of “fame” with my line of work, too. But author-fame was completely different from actor-fame. I’d gotten my share of fan letters and notoriety, but I could still live my life without intrusion. I could still go to the supermarket, unshowered and no makeup, without having to worry about some paparazzo jumping out from behind the lima beans. Well, I
used
to, anyway.

  
“How do you do it?” I asked. “How do you deal with every detail of your life being so public?”

   He shrugged. “Believe it or not, I don’t really think about it. ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity’ and all that. It keeps me working. You always hear celebs bitching about the latest pictures of them splashed all over the tabloids.
But believe me, they get even bitchier when they
don’t
appear in those things. I mean, most of those articles paint me in a decent light. These days, anyway.”

   I t
hought about his tumultuous past. “That must have been difficult.”

   “I was drunk through most of it. I hardly even realized people had noticed
me.”

   “They did. Trust me. It’s like one day, you were just Trip Wiley: Actor, and the next, you were Trip Wiley:
Superstar
. Did
you
notice the difference?”

  
He huffed at that. “I don’t know. I came back here in… what? October of two-thousand, right? I was at the top of my game career-wise, but feeling lower than I had in my entire life.”

  
I winced at his admission. No matter what he said the other day, I knew
I
was the reason he’d gotten so depressed.

   “
Swayed
hit the theaters and it hit
big
.”

   “
I remember.”

   “
Well, the offers kept pouring in. I was already working on
Red Nevada
and I had already signed on for
The Sanction
by the time I won the Oscar. I spent Academy Award night in a bar, by the way. I didn’t even know I’d won until the next day when my agent, David brought the thing over to my house.”

   “
I spent it in a bar, too. I knew you were going to win, and I couldn’t even think about hearing your name get called, much less watch you walk up onto that stage to accept it. Having to see you thank…
her
.”

  
“There wouldn’t have been anything to thank her for.” He gave a squeeze to my knee at that admission, but didn’t dwell on it.

   I knew he was only trying to downplay his relationship for my benefit. But he was
engaged
to that woman, for godsakes. I knew Trip better than that to believe he took such a thing so lightly.

  
His voice was anything but light when he said, “My mother was a wreck. When I think about how selfish I was, drinking like that… God. She was already dealing with my alchy father, and then her son goes and hits the booze. I’ll never forgive myself for doing that to her. To Claudia. They were the ones who got me through that time, you should know. I left you in New York, came back here, and couldn’t talk about it for months. I was an absolute wrecked mess. Mom came out to L.A. for a ‘visit’, but I knew Claudia had tipped her off, and what she was actually doing was checking up on me. She surprised me at my house one day, telling me she came out to help with the wedding planning. Just hearing the word ‘wedding’ made me sick. I threw up. Right there on the patio, at her feet.”

   “You did not!”

   He smiled, knowing I was such a twisted witch that I actually found the scenario entertaining.

   “I did.”

   “Why did you take the engagement as far as you did? It doesn’t really seem very fair to Jenna.”

  
He practically snorted. “Oh, please. Jenna didn’t care about anything but looking pretty in her wedding gown. She couldn’t even see I was a mess. She just kept making plans, and I just kept avoiding setting a date. Two years she turned a blind eye. Two years of bloodshot eyes and slurred speech and
whiskey dick.
It’s like she didn’t
want
to see. I finally hit rock bottom and she was forced to face the truth. She couldn’t really ignore the fact that I’d moved into the treatment center, for godsakes. I did that on my own, by the way.”

  
I’d read about a few of Trip’s drunken shenanigans in the tabloids. They were mostly treated as entertaining little stories about America’s new favorite bad boy, relaying the tales of the amusing stunts he had pulled at some prominent club or Hollywood party. But then… rehab.

   “We were engaged for two years and she was screwing
around the whole time, I think. Not like I can blame her. I couldn’t really see it through the bottom of a bottle, or maybe I just didn’t care. Even still, I used rehab as the excuse to make the break. She didn’t fight me on it.”

   “What made you finally go?”

   “What was my rock bottom, you mean?”

   “Yeah, I guess.”

   He took a deep breath and shook his head in disbelief. “I just… Oh Jesus. What
wasn’t
my rock bottom? I was out at the bars almost every night, and managed to pick a fight almost every time. A few times, I’d show up to the set of
Red
Nevada
with bruises so dark, the makeup girl was paid overtime. Once, my face was so puffed out that shooting had to be put on hold until the swelling could go down. Biker guy. Real big bastard.” He chuckled dejectedly at the memory. “We got that movie finished by the skin of our teeth, and God. It really sucked when we did. I can’t normally watch
any
of my movies, but that one? Holy shit. I can barely even say the
title
. It really fucked with my career. Miramax heard all about my bullshit on—and
off
—the set, and that, combined with it bombing was enough for them to cancel my contract for
Sanction
. Instead of waking me up, it just allowed more time for drinking.”

   I stayed quiet through his rambling. Not only was his monologue enlightening, but it was just too damned shocking for words. I couldn’t believe he was ever that broken person. It sounded
nothing like the Trip I thought I knew; the sweet boy he was as a teenager, the confident man he was now. I smoothed a palm over the hair above his ear and just let him talk.

   “I
gotta say, though, the thing that really clinched it for me, the thing that truly woke me up… It wasn’t the fighting or the bruises or the threat to my career. It was Claudia.”

   “Your sister was your rock bottom?”

   He gave a chuckle and explained. “No. It was something she said. She’d stopped by unexpectedly one day—she does that a lot by the way, be prepared—and I was floating in the pool on a raft, passed out,
fully clothed
, just a complete disaster as usual. She thought she was being cute when she tossed a snorkel at me to wake me up. I did, for about a second, long enough to roll face first into the water. I didn’t come back up.”

   My fingers had been twirling his hair, but at that, my hand stilled.

   “She told me afterward that she had to jump in and drag me over to the stairs. All I know is that one minute, I thought going for a swim seemed like a great idea, and the next, I’m waking up to my sister shaking me, just screaming in my face. I’d pretty much tuned her out the whole time. But then… then she said, ‘
You look like shit, Terrence! You look just like Dad!
’ And if you don’t think that fucking got to me, you’d be wrong. And I
knew
it. I
knew
I was turning into the old man. The one asshole in the world I never wanted to turn into. I checked into rehab the following day. Second best move I ever made.”

   “What was the first?” I asked, smiling, knowing
full-well what he was going to say.

  
“Taking your virginity in that tent.”

   I smacked him for that.
“Asshole.”

   He laughed,
then sat up to face me. “Okay, fine. The
best
move was from Indiana to New Jersey. Because that’s when I met
you
. Happy?”
He ran a palm across my jaw and kissed me on the corner of my mouth, my skin shivering from the sweet words and gentle touch. There I was, with Trip Effing Wilmington by my side once again.

  
“But that virginity thing is a pretty close third.”

   “Shut up, you creep!” I snickered as I gave him a shove.

   He smiled and grabbed my hand, looking down at our twined fingers as he said, “I got that letter you sent after I got out. It meant a lot. Thank you.”

  
When I’d heard Trip was in rehab, I kind of lost it a little bit. I was happy that he’d decided to get help, but I was stunned that his drinking problem had gotten so bad. That one letter was the only time I’d ever reached out to him over our four-and-a-half year separation. I wrote about ten different drafts before finally putting the tamest one in an envelope and shooting it off to his agent’s office. I was relieved to find out it actually found its way into his hands. “I wished I’d explained things to you then, but… as far as I knew, you were still engaged, and I didn’t even know how to tell you what I was feeling without…”