“Tar, I’m sorry. Come with me, baby.” Ry-an led me by the hand.
Marla scurried in her designer heels from her car. “Would someone please tell me what we are doing here?” she asked frantically.
“We have a tight time schedule. You have to be on the carpet in five minutes. We don’t have time for deviations.”
Ryan stepped in front of me and turned on her. “If you— ever— pull a stunt like this on me again . . . ,” he growled loudly.
Marla, of course, played up her confusion, pressing her hand to her chest. “What do you mean ‘stunt’? What are you talking about, Ryan? No, No! I need everyone to get back in their cars—right now!” she ordered, clapping her hands several times to get their attention. Pete narrowed his eyes on me, wondering like the rest of them what was going on.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Ryan accused.
“No, I’m afraid that I don’t.”
“Don’t give me that shit!” he yelled. “
You and David . . . I’ll fucking cut you both loose if you ever do something like this again.”
“Hey, wait,” David quickly interjected. “I told you I didn’t have anything to do with car arrangements.”
Ryan glared at him.
I scoffed internally at David’s comment.
He was such a lying scumbag.
“Ryan, please. I don’t understand,” Marla interrupted. “Why you are so upset?” Between the eyelash fluttering and her fake surprised tone, it was obvious that she was attempting to cover up her lies, too.
Ryan locked his teeth. He was seething. “I told you I was only going to wait until premiere night, but that was it. We discussed this today, Marla! So, explain to me why the fuck my fiancée was placed in a different car.”
Marla’s eyes shot over to me. I, too, was waiting for her explanation, relieved by the fact that he wasn’t just mad about it—he was furious.
“Is this why you are so angry? How ridiculous,” she muttered. “Ryan, this isn’t your first premiere. You know what’s involved when we arrive. Come on now. Let’s all get back into our cars. You don’t want to be late.” She attempted to reach for Ryan’s arm but he jerked it away.
“I’m not going anywhere until I get an answer,” Ryan said defiantly.
She sighed, apparently bothered by his insolence. “I don’t know what kind of answer you are looking for. This is about promoting your public persona and your film, not about parading your personal life. You know the chaos that ensues from your arrival. You simply cannot attend to her and your fans at the same time,” she continued. “It’s impossible.”
“Oh, so now I have no say in the matter? Is that how this works now?”
“Well, what you want and what’s best for your career can be two different things, Ry-an. That’s why you have us. To guide you.” I felt Ryan’s hand squeeze mine tighter as he glared at her. “I know what you’re trying to do and I’m telling you this shit stops now.”
“Ryan, you’re overreacting,” Marla chided.
Ryan glared at her.
“Overreacting?”
“Son, what’s going on?” Bill asked, stepping into the middle of it.
“Nothing, Dad. Don’t worry about it,” Ry-an said curtly, waving his father off.
“Yes. Overreacting. You have a duty to the studio and the producers and dragging her down the carpet is not the best time for a debut. The press will want to interview her, Ry-an. And what is she going to say?” God, this woman really irked me. “I think I can handle myself.”
Marla blinked at my momentary interrup-tion and then proceeded to ramble again.
“She hasn’t been through any media training. She won’t know how to respond to questions properly. We can’t risk making mistakes now. You do your interviews and then appropriate arrangements for photo opportunities will be m—”
“No!” Ryan said with utter finality. “I am not hiding this anymore. She arrives with me—tonight. End of discussion.” I felt like the child that should have stayed home with the babysitter.
Marla huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If you would just listen to me for one minute. This is her first premiere. Let her get the feel for it and then maybe next time . . .” I had just about all I could take seeing Ry-an under such stress. I had to shove my own wants and needs to the side. “Ryan, it’s all right. I’ll ride with your parents and I’ll stay out of the way and I won’t speak to anyone.
No photographs, no interviews, nothing. I promise. Just . . . let’s go. You won’t be late because of me.”
“No!” Ryan growled again. He didn’t budge when I tugged his hand. “Hang on, honey. This is bullshit. Call and Kelly arrived together when we did the ll.A. Seaside premiere, and here I am in a goddamned alleyway having an argument about wanting to arrive at my premiere with my fiancée.”
“Ryan, calm down, buddy.” David tried to smooth it over. “If you want her in the car—”
“Your public image is my responsibility, Ryan. Mine!” Marla said. “You’ve barely dated this girl, foolishly got her pregnant once already, and now you’re engaged? Do you have any idea what kind of reckless image that sends? And how long do you suppose this one will last until it winds up being a court battle? One misstep, one mis-quote—that’s all it takes to ruin things for you. We’ve had countless discussions about dating, asset protection protocol, and keeping your private life low-key and off the press’s radar so the focus stays on your new career, but that doesn’t seem to register with you. I’ve been trying to protect your professional image.” Marla huffed. “If you, for once, would just do what you’re told to do instead of running off like a lovesick teenager, life would be so much easier.” My stomach twisted and roiled and I wanted to throw up. The impulse to sprint down the alley and head for the airport came on right after that. My worst fears of being deemed bad for him were just confirmed. I felt like I was shattering inside. How can our love for each other possibly survive through all these constant bombardments, accusations, and heartaches?
Ryan eyed her with contempt. “What? Is that what you think of me? Oh ho,” he grumbled. “We are so done.”
“Calm down, Ryan,” David said again, patting him on the shoulder to coax him away.