Incidental Happenstance (52 page)

            “No way,” Lexi said. “You are not going to shut yourself off from the world again like you did when you lost Nick.” Her voice softened. “I know it hurts, honey, but I can’t stand to see you like that again. It’s not going to be easy, I know. Heartbreak never is. But he’s a bastard to do this to you and an even bigger one for buying into that bitch’s shit. She’s behind this, not him—I still say it doesn’t seem like something he would do! It stinks of Penelope!”

            Tia was racked with a fresh set of sobs. “Oh God, I’ll never even be able to get close to him again! I could never get backstage, couldn’t even get someone to pass him a message! I’ll never even talk to him again!”

            Lexi just held her and let her cry. She was right, unfortunately. If Dylan was done with her, there was nothing Tia could do about it. She’d never get an opportunity to even get near him—he was too big of a star. Reluctantly, Lexi made her some tea and drew her a bath, and then she tucked her in as best she could and went to sleep in the spare room. There was no way she was leaving Tia alone tonight. She could hear the sobs in the next room, and couldn’t close her own eyes until Tia finally cried herself out and fell into a fitful sleep.

            Penelope smiled at her computer screen. She’d seen the email, then. Penelope knew that the instant Tia read it she’d picked up her phone and tried calling Dylan, only to hear that the number had been disconnected. Oh how she wished she could see the look on the little bitch’s face when she read the line informing her that she and Dylan were now a couple. She wondered if she should answer the email, break her heart into a few more pieces, but decided that Dylan wouldn’t do that, so she reluctantly let it go. She took out the instructions she’d gotten from Angela and typed in some commands. When ‘block sender’ came up as an option, she clicked it happily—the next time Tia tried to send an email to Dylan she’d get one of those demon things and she’d know it was over.

            Penelope stood up and spun in slow circles around her little living room, smiling broadly to herself. Everything had fallen into place, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. It was all going her way. She’d started intercepting Dylan’s letters to Tia over a week ago, and had her plane ticket tucked safely in the little box she kept under her bed, so she wouldn’t be showing up for Christmas. Neither of them would get another letter, and all other forms of communication were blocked. She could officially write the teacher out of Dylan’s life and out of her hair. She sat down and closed her eyes, taking deep slow breaths in through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. It was time for her next role; the sympathetic friend who would be there to help Dylan move on with his life after being dumped.  He’d be back this afternoon, and he’d find out Tia was done with him, then she could sweep in and pick up the pieces. Their first on screen kiss was scheduled for early next week, and his vulnerability would play right into her hands.

            The first thing Dylan did when he got back from the shoot was to boot up his computer, then he picked up his new phone and punched the contact icon for Tia’s number. It would be early evening for her, and he couldn’t wait to hear her voice—he’d had a really rough few days dealing with the Jessa situation and then being so isolated from everything. It would be really hard to tell her about Jessa—the two girls had become friends over the months they’d spent together and he was sure Tia would be nearly as hurt as he was by her betrayal. He’d leave out the part about Jessa being in love with him, though; she didn’t need to hear that. The couch beckoned, and he kicked off his shoes and plopped down with the phone next to his ear. He couldn’t wait to catch up with her and find out if she’d gotten her plane ticket yet.

            When he heard the message that the number had been disconnected, he didn’t panic at first. He went back to his contact list and selected her again, waiting for the series of clicks and beeps that connected them across oceans. The message repeated itself, and he frowned. He scrolled through the contact list again and it appeared at first glance that they were all there—the card from the old phone was supposed to keep them all intact.

           
Shit
, he thought, going over to the table and sitting in front of the computer. He’d have to email her, then, and hopefully she’d be home and checking her mail regularly. He could send his new number that way, and then reprogram hers once she called him—there must have been some sort of error when they made the switch. Of course he didn’t have it written down anywhere or memorized; in this electronic age you didn’t have to know those things, they were just always at your fingertips.

            His computer was taking a long time to boot up. He tapped his fingers on the table impatiently, waiting for the welcome screen to appear.
Come on
, he thought,
can something go my way?
  The past couple days had done nothing to ease his mind about how he left things with Jessa; he still had a lot of trouble believing that he could have been so wrong about her, or that she could have betrayed him so maliciously. The more time he had to think about it, the less realistic it seemed. But he couldn’t ignore the evidence that stared him right in the face—it all came down to that damn scarf.

            He just wanted so badly to hear Tia’s voice; she would soothe him and make him feel better. When his computer finally lit up, he pulled up his email, smiling when he saw her name in his inbox. His smile quickly disappeared when he read the words on the screen.

           
Dylan, I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just going to come out and say it. We have to end things between us. I had the most amazing time with you, but now that I’m home and back to my old life, I realize that things could never work out between us. I can’t give up my career, and I realized that there’s no way I can stand to be with someone who’s going to be gone from me more than they’re with me. It kills me to see other girls flirting with you constantly, and I just can’t take it. You’re better off being with someone who shares your world and who understands the challenges you face. I can’t thank you enough for the summer, but now that it’s over, I realize that I need normalcy in my life, and I could never have that with you. Please don’t try to contact me. I’ve changed my number and my email so we can have a clean break. I’ll always love your music, and we’ll always have Paris… Tia

           
“What the FUCK!” Dylan yelled, slapping the table with his open palm hard enough to send a glass crashing to the floor. It wasn’t possible—things were going from bad to worse. Tia was breaking up with him? In a fucking
email
? It didn’t make a damned bit of sense! The last time they’d spoken things had been fine; he ran through their conversation in his mind, looking for any indication that things were anything good between them and couldn’t come up with anything.  They were talking about being together for Christmas, for chrissake, and now suddenly, for no good reason, she didn’t want to hear from him ever again?

            He refused to accept it, and picked up his phone, punching the key before remembering that it wouldn’t connect. What the hell? He couldn’t talk to her at all? This couldn’t be happening! He fell onto the couch, staring at the phone in his hand. She’d really disconnected her number? Just to keep him from calling her?

            His computer screen flashed twice, and a skull and crossbones showed up on his screen just before it went blank. “Not this too,” he growled, restarting it and waiting, his leg bouncing up and down and his fingers tapping, until it finally came up. When he opened his email, he saw that all the messages were gone—his inbox was empty. “Bloody fucking hell!” he yelled, clicking on the link to his address book. At least those were still there—thank God—and he selected Tia’s address and wrote her. 

           
Dear Tia, What the hell is going on? I just got the most horrible email from you. Please tell me it was some sort of sick joke! I am not done with you, not by a long shot. I’m in love with you, damn it, and that counts for something. Whatever issues you’re having are because of the distance right now, and that’s not going to last forever. I promised that we’d work out anything that got in our way, and I meant it. I just can’t let things go like this.

            A lot of shit has gone down here in the past couple days and it’s been really rough. I had to change my phone number—I’ll explain everything when we talk. WE NEED TO TALK TIA, I know we can work things out! It’s only another few weeks until we can see each other again—you should have gotten your ticket already. Please call me as soon as you get this message, and please come—when we’re together again things will look different, I promise you. I love you!!! Dylan

           
He added his new cell number and hit send, then sat down immediately to write her a personal letter, but threw the paper down in disgust when he realized it would take weeks to even reach her.
Damn it!
he thought—there couldn’t be a worse time to be halfway around the world. He couldn’t call her, she didn’t have his new number, and he didn’t know if she’d even read his email if she was really serious about ending their relationship. He was hurt, confused, and incredibly pissed off, and he picked the paper up off the floor and poured it all into a letter anyway. He put Paris pictures in the envelope with this one—he wanted to remind her of the first time he’d told her he loved her, and of how happy they were together. He sealed the envelope and put it on the little shelf next to the door. He’d have Angela take it into town and post it for him first thing in the morning. He fumed again over how long it would take to reach her, and she suddenly felt very far away from him, further than she’d felt the whole time he’d been here.

            He paced the room, and finally pulled out his guitar and started playing.

            When Penelope heard the pounding of angry music drifting in through her open windows, she smiled. Dylan got the message, she figured, and she opened her own email to read his response. It was a bit over the top, she thought, but he’d get over her. She’d make sure of it.
            Tia poured everything she felt, everything she was into a letter to Dylan. It just didn’t seem possible that after their last conversation, he was done with their relationship. She refused to let it go without a fight—they’d shared too much, loved too much for it to just be over. She hoped and prayed that the ticket would come in the mail—if she could just see him again, just tell him how much she’d missed him and how much she loved him—it would all be alright. She included some pictures she’d taken in Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower, where’d he’d told her he loved her. She played
Worlds Collide
, the song he’d written for her, over and over on repeat as she wrote; six pages and still going strong. She checked her email, and her heart sank like a stone when she saw the mailer daemon. Dylan had changed his email, too—he really didn’t want to hear from her.

            She went through the days on autopilot—she couldn’t think of anything but Dylan, and people were noticing the difference in her. She tried not to let it show, but as the days passed without a call or an email or any other communication from him, she grew more and more depressed.        

            It was at the grocery store when she saw the first tabloid pictures. “Romance Down Under,” the cover read, and there was a picture of Dylan and Penelope, him carrying her in his arms, topless no less, from the water at some beach. She stood staring, frozen in place, while the lady behind her prodded her to start unloading her groceries onto the belt. It was nearly impossible to keep from fleeing from the sight; she wanted nothing more than to leave her cart and run from the store, but she couldn’t help herself—she picked up the issue and thumbed through the photos, wincing in physical pain as she took in glimpse after glimpse of the two of them together: sitting in lounge chairs sharing a beer, locked in an embrace, sharing an intimate meal at a small table, her entering his trailer while he held open the door. “Hollywood’s Hottest New Couple,” the byline read, and she felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she skimmed the article and was bombarded by the pictures. They’d obviously been taken from a distance without the subjects knowing, which made it even harder to stomach. It was all she could do to load her groceries onto the belt, pay for them and pack them. By the time she reached her car she was in tears, tossing things into the back seat, barely able to remain standing. She sat behind the wheel for a few minutes while she caught her breath, unable to trust her driving abilities in the heat of her emotion.

            She called Lexi as soon as she got into the house, sobbing by the time she answered the phone. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “Did you see the newest issue of Person to Person?”

            “Obviously you have,” she said, her voice full of sympathy. “I’d hoped you hadn’t.”

            “How could I miss it?” she cried. “It was practically screaming in my face while I was standing in line at the grocery store. Oh fuck, it’s going to be like from now on, isn’t it?” she whispered. “I’m going to have to look at pictures of the two of them together constantly. I don’t know how I can take it! It was all I could do to pay for my food and get the hell out of there!”

            “I’m so sorry, honey,” Lexi soothed. “I don’t know what I can say or do to make it any easier—did you write to him?”

            “Of course I did,” she cried. “I’ve been writing every day—but I don’t know if he’s getting them, or reading them…” she broke down, her voice cracking with the emotion. “I guess I just have to face the facts. I’ll never see him again.”