Love Unscripted
Page 240
He started to walk off but I stopped him.
“Kyle?” I called out, secretly wishing he’d stay just a bit longer.
He stopped abruptly in his tracks, but barely glanced back at me over his shoulder.
“Would you like to stay for a drink?” I asked apprehensively.
His eyes were so sad and it pained me to know that I was the cause of his melancholy. As if I needed one more reason to be sad myself.
I grabbed the bottle of tequila.
“All you have to do is stamp on their foot real hard,” Kyle chuckled, telling me about some self-defense maneuvers.
“So, in other words, hitting them over the head with this bottle wouldn’t work?” I giggled. I was feeling quite tipsy from the beer, shots, and pain medicine.
“You could always use your big, blue club here,” he teased, tapping his fingers on my arm cast. “Swing it hard enough and you could probably knock some teeth out with that thing!”
I smirked at his joke.
“I’m not afraid. If someone wants to try and hurt me, I’m going to put up one hell of a fight. The majority of his fans are harmless, although I’m sure I’ll have to deal with a lot more of them hating me over the next forty years. Oh well, whatever.”
Kyle became awfully quiet.
“Hey, I remember what I wanted to ask you!” I blurted out. “Where is that corner deli where you got that chicken soup?”
“Did you like it?” Kyle asked, grinning at me.
“Oh yeah! It was delicious! You’ll have to give me directions to that place.”
He started to tell me what roads to take but after the fifth turn I lost him. I was quite buzzed after that last shot.
“Can’t you write it down for me? I’ll never remember,” I whined.
“You have a pen?” he asked.
I returned with paper and a pen and two more bottles of beer. Kyle started writing directions.
“You’re a lefty, huh?” I teased, noticing he wrote with his left hand.
Kyle smiled at the paper.
“Did you know that I can write with my left hand?” I taunted. I pulled on the edge of the paper to mess with him while he was writing. “Yep, I’m ambidextrous. What do you think about that?” I tugged on the paper again.
He was grinning as he kept on writing. “I think we have yet another thing in common.”
“No way! You are not!” I took a sip of my beer, waiting for him to confirm. He annoyingly kept silent.
As soon as Kyle finished writing, I slipped the paper out from under his hand. He tried to stop me from taking it but he wasn’t quick enough.
In an instant his whole demeanor changed. We were just having a fun time teasing each other, but now he seemed agitated.
Kyle looked at his watch and quickly downed the last of his beer. “I’ve got to go,” he muttered and slid out of the booth.
I was completely confused by his abrupt departure.
“Well, thanks for the stuff.” I patted the paper bag.
He was obviously distracted by other thoughts as he put his leather jacket on.
“I’ll see you later. Get some rest,” he ordered.
I watched as Kyle ran his hand through his hair on the way out the door. Marie and Tammy were staring at me, giving me the disapproving look that I spent too much time with Kyle.
Feeling guilty, I immediately went back upstairs and called Ryan.
“I still think you could make it,” Ryan whined in my ear. “I’m sure there’s an open seat on a flight.”
I looked at the yellowish-brown marks that still covered my cheek through my slightly drunken eyes, thinking that no amount of makeup would ever conceal them. I was glad that we had finally moved on from the umpteenth Kyle argument.
“Ryan, I asked my doctor. He doesn’t want me to fly for another two weeks. Besides, my face is still black and blue or more like yellow and brown now. You can’t be photographed with me looking like this.”
“I don’t care about that,” he breathed. “But if the doctor is the one saying no, then I understand why you can’t.”
“Honey, I want to be there too, but a trip to L.A. isn’t possible right now. I still have some pain in my ribs.
I’m planning on watching the Oscars on television. I wouldn’t miss your presentation for anything.”
“I fly tomorrow and then I have a rehearsal so I don’t mess up my lines. I’m really nervous,” he admitted.
“You’ll do just fine. You’re a pro at this!” I tried to encourage him.
“This schedule is crazy. I leave out of LAX at nine the next morning. And then I’m scheduled to do some scenes later that night back in Miami,” he groaned.
“Kyle?” I called out, secretly wishing he’d stay just a bit longer.
He stopped abruptly in his tracks, but barely glanced back at me over his shoulder.
“Would you like to stay for a drink?” I asked apprehensively.
His eyes were so sad and it pained me to know that I was the cause of his melancholy. As if I needed one more reason to be sad myself.
I grabbed the bottle of tequila.
“All you have to do is stamp on their foot real hard,” Kyle chuckled, telling me about some self-defense maneuvers.
“So, in other words, hitting them over the head with this bottle wouldn’t work?” I giggled. I was feeling quite tipsy from the beer, shots, and pain medicine.
“You could always use your big, blue club here,” he teased, tapping his fingers on my arm cast. “Swing it hard enough and you could probably knock some teeth out with that thing!”
I smirked at his joke.
“I’m not afraid. If someone wants to try and hurt me, I’m going to put up one hell of a fight. The majority of his fans are harmless, although I’m sure I’ll have to deal with a lot more of them hating me over the next forty years. Oh well, whatever.”
Kyle became awfully quiet.
“Hey, I remember what I wanted to ask you!” I blurted out. “Where is that corner deli where you got that chicken soup?”
“Did you like it?” Kyle asked, grinning at me.
“Oh yeah! It was delicious! You’ll have to give me directions to that place.”
He started to tell me what roads to take but after the fifth turn I lost him. I was quite buzzed after that last shot.
“Can’t you write it down for me? I’ll never remember,” I whined.
“You have a pen?” he asked.
I returned with paper and a pen and two more bottles of beer. Kyle started writing directions.
“You’re a lefty, huh?” I teased, noticing he wrote with his left hand.
Kyle smiled at the paper.
“Did you know that I can write with my left hand?” I taunted. I pulled on the edge of the paper to mess with him while he was writing. “Yep, I’m ambidextrous. What do you think about that?” I tugged on the paper again.
He was grinning as he kept on writing. “I think we have yet another thing in common.”
“No way! You are not!” I took a sip of my beer, waiting for him to confirm. He annoyingly kept silent.
As soon as Kyle finished writing, I slipped the paper out from under his hand. He tried to stop me from taking it but he wasn’t quick enough.
In an instant his whole demeanor changed. We were just having a fun time teasing each other, but now he seemed agitated.
Kyle looked at his watch and quickly downed the last of his beer. “I’ve got to go,” he muttered and slid out of the booth.
I was completely confused by his abrupt departure.
“Well, thanks for the stuff.” I patted the paper bag.
He was obviously distracted by other thoughts as he put his leather jacket on.
“I’ll see you later. Get some rest,” he ordered.
I watched as Kyle ran his hand through his hair on the way out the door. Marie and Tammy were staring at me, giving me the disapproving look that I spent too much time with Kyle.
Feeling guilty, I immediately went back upstairs and called Ryan.
“I still think you could make it,” Ryan whined in my ear. “I’m sure there’s an open seat on a flight.”
I looked at the yellowish-brown marks that still covered my cheek through my slightly drunken eyes, thinking that no amount of makeup would ever conceal them. I was glad that we had finally moved on from the umpteenth Kyle argument.
“Ryan, I asked my doctor. He doesn’t want me to fly for another two weeks. Besides, my face is still black and blue or more like yellow and brown now. You can’t be photographed with me looking like this.”
“I don’t care about that,” he breathed. “But if the doctor is the one saying no, then I understand why you can’t.”
“Honey, I want to be there too, but a trip to L.A. isn’t possible right now. I still have some pain in my ribs.
I’m planning on watching the Oscars on television. I wouldn’t miss your presentation for anything.”
“I fly tomorrow and then I have a rehearsal so I don’t mess up my lines. I’m really nervous,” he admitted.
“You’ll do just fine. You’re a pro at this!” I tried to encourage him.
“This schedule is crazy. I leave out of LAX at nine the next morning. And then I’m scheduled to do some scenes later that night back in Miami,” he groaned.
