Read InHap*pily Ever After (Incidental Happenstance) Online
Authors: Kim DeSalvo
The “tent” was
more like a luxury hotel room, and Tia’s breath caught in her throat as they
walked in. It had a queen size bed, a wooden deck, and a private bathroom;
although it shared a communal kitchen with the rest of the campground. They
dropped off their bags and headed out for a hike, Tia clasping her hands in
silent reverence under her chin when she saw a dozen or so cockatoos soaring
overhead. The scenery took her breath away—lush greenery, blue sky, and
wildlife everywhere—she felt a sense of absolute peace here. She couldn’t help
but rush to the water when they saw a pod of dolphins swimming by as they
walked along the beach, and she looked forward to the next morning, when they’d
be snorkeling in the marine reserve that encapsulated the entire south side of
the park.
They watched
the sunset together from the beach, then returned to the campground for a quiet
evening of wildlife watching and stargazing. They’d picked up a couple nice
steaks and some fresh salad fixings in one of the towns they’d passed through,
and they planned to grill out and enjoy dinner outdoors.
“We’re going
to need some utensils,” she said, “to cook these and to eat them. Where was the
kitchen?”
“Right down
that path,” Dylan pointed. “The barbie’s over there too, so just grab the
grocery sacks and I’ll get the cooler. We’ll pick up Deb and Michael on the
way—I bought some extra steaks, since they’re going to be here anyway. And wear
your hat.”
After the
debacle in Melbourne, Dylan insisted that Tia wear an obnoxious floppy hat
whenever they were wandering in public.
“It’s just hideous enough that most
people will turn away rather than stare,” he’d said when he presented it to
her. “With that and a pair of sunglasses, hardly anyone will recognize you.”
She
groaned and pulled it over her head, tucking her hair beneath it. It was that
or a wig, Dylan had insisted, and she sure as hell didn’t want to deal with
that kind of inconvenience.
He did have a
point though, and it was well taken. It was disconcerting having strangers come
up to greet her in random places, and it did happen. The night of the Melbourne
incident, when they went to dinner with Dylan’s folks, she’d been followed into
the ladies room by another restaurant patron. She was a very nice woman who had
just wanted an autograph, a picture, and to show her support, but it was
incredibly awkward being addressed from the other side of the bathroom stall
when she was trying to pee.
The two
members of their security detail were staying in the next tent over. Tia knew
that it was their job to accompany them everywhere they went—although they’d
pretty much stayed out of sight during their little adventures, she’d felt
their presence everywhere they’d gone—but she still felt bad about intruding on
their evening to have them follow her and Dyl to the barbeque area so they
could cook their dinner. She didn’t feel comfortable with the fact that they
had to drop whatever they were doing to follow their every whim; even though
they were being paid well for it. It was simply well outside of her own comfort
zone.
They were
sitting on the wooden deck of their tent, eating sandwiches from wax paper
wrappers and sipping iced tea from paper cups. As soon as they saw the couple
approaching, they rewrapped their makeshift dinners and stood. “Heading out?”
the man, Michael asked, ready to forgo his own dinner to follow them wherever
they went.
“Just over to
the kitchen—Dylan got dinner for all of us,” Tia said, holding up the shopping
bags and motioning to the large cooler Dylan carried. “The grill…I’m sorry, the
barbie…
is just down the road. Come and join us.”
Michael was
down the few steps in an instant, taking the cooler from Dylan. Tia noticed
that he was younger than she first thought; perhaps in his late thirties, with
thinning hair and strong arms. “That’s very kind; I’m pretty sure whatever
you’ve got in that cooler beats these lousy sandwiches,” he said. Deb took the
bags from Tia, and followed them toward the kitchen.
“You’re sure?”
she asked. “We wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Positive,”
Tia answered, turning on the path that led to their destination.
“Hold on,”
Dylan said, “I’ve forgotten something.” He looked at Deborah. “You two go
ahead; we’ll be right behind you.” Michael set the cooler down, and followed
Dylan back to their quarters.
Tia looked
around the long narrow ‘tent’ that served as a kitchen. There was a group of
people already out in the barbeque area, but they were already cooking and the
kitchen was empty. Deb set the bags down on one of the tables and groaned in
pleasure as she started pulling out the contents. “Oh, this is just great,” she
said excitedly. “That was probably the worst sandwich in the history of
sandwich making—it got wet in the cooler and the bread was absolutely
saturated. Thanks again for inviting us—this looks amazing.”
“Absolutely,”
Tia smiled. “Dylan got enough food for a small army—plenty to share.” The
kitchen was rustic but well appointed, and she began pulling out some plates
and utensils as Deb began scrubbing vegetables. Tia tossed her hat on the table
next to the bags and unwrapped the steaks; rubbing some seasoning onto them and
piling them on one of the plates. She was digging through the silverware drawer
looking for some tongs when the door swung open, and four women walked in, each
carrying a bag of their own.
“G’day,” one
of them said, smiling. “Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”
“It couldn’t
be more perfect,” Tia replied.
Their heads
turned toward her. “An American, are you?” an older woman with gray hair and
crinkly eyes asked.
“Yes,” Tia
laughed. “Is it that obvious?”
“Hard to hide
the accent, love,” she said kindly. She walked toward Tia offering her hand to
shake, but stopped a few paces away. “Wait a minute,” Crinkle Eyes said, her
head tilted and her eyes narrowed. “I know you from somewhere.” She cocked her
head the other way, trying to make the connection as Deb tensed and moved
closer to her side.
A slightly
younger heavyset woman set her bags on the opposite table and studied Tia as
well. “No way,” she said, reaching into a huge cloth bag. Tia ducked
instinctively and chastised herself for panicking when the woman pulled out a
magazine. She looked from the rag to Tia and back again, then held it up for
the others to see. “It’s you, isn’t it?” she asked, turning the magazine toward
Tia. It was her face on the cover, all right, there was no denying it.
Thankfully, they’d used one of the pictures that had been taken at the airport,
and not one where she was covered in blood; although the headline read, “Battle
of Hastings.” An image in the corner showed the woman who had allegedly hurled
the blood bomb. She was wearing a “Free Penelope” t-shirt, and was being
dragged away by two security officers. “I can still see the bruise. You’re Tia
Hastings.”
Tia pasted on
her best smile and extended her hand. The women looked friendly enough, with
open faces and genuine smiles, but she couldn’t help but feel her
self-preservation instinct kicking in. The ladies looked
at her, eyes wide and smiling. “That’s me,” she said kindly. “It’s nice to meet
you.”
They shook her
hand in turn, chattering all the while and comparing her face to the one on the
magazine again and again, as if to make sure they weren’t mistaken. Each of
them told Tia her name, but the only one she remembered was Agnes, aka Crinkle
Eyes, who seemed to be the spokesperson for the group.
“Oh my gosh, I
can’t believe this,” she said. “Can I just say that I’m appalled by what
happened to you the other day. I saw the program—but the way you stood tall and
handled yourself…” she whistled through her teeth. “Like a real lady,” she
finished with a smile.
“Thanks very
much; I appreciate that,” Tia said graciously. It seemed she was saying those
words a lot lately, much as Dylan often did.
“Are you on holiday, then?” another woman asked, “with Dylan
Miller?”
“I am,” Tia
answered, “and I have to say, this is honestly one of the most beautiful places
I’ve ever seen. And with just one exception, the people are lovely, too.”
“Is he here
too?” the heavy-set woman asked excitedly.
Just then,
Michael walked through the door toting the cooler, with Dylan right behind.
“Oh my stars, I can’t believe this!” Agnes exclaimed. “I never would have
thought…” She rushed over to Dylan and took his hand, introducing herself and
the rest of her little group. “We’re with the Sunshine Seniors,” she explained.
“We’re a travel club that goes…oh who cares?” she giggled. “I’ve been
travelling all my life, but I’ve never run into any celebrities before! This is
our lucky day!”
The other
ladies chimed their agreement.
“Oh, won’t you
join us for dinner?” Agnes begged.
“Oh please do.
We’ve got more than enough, we always do,” the heavyset woman said. “It would
mean so much to us—please say you’ll have supper with us.”
Dylan smiled
and put his arm around Tia’s shoulders. “How can we say no to an offer like
that?” he said. “We’d be happy to. We’ve got some steaks and a few other things
to toss in, too.” Tia looked at him from the corner of her eye, and he just
shrugged, leaning over and whispering, “It’s already a party, and it’s a bit of
harmless fun. We’ll spend an hour and they’ll have something to brag to their
kids about tomorrow.”
“OK then,
sounds great to me,” Tia agreed, and the ladies pumped their hands in the air
in a victory cheer. Agnes took Tia by the hand while two others; Beth and
Laurel, she tried to remember after they introduced themselves again; flanked
Dylan, lacing their arms through his. They led him out the door and around the
back of the building, where about six other people were gathered. Several women
bustled about, stacking plates on picnic tables and pulling food from coolers.
A smaller group of men sat on the fringes, laughing and drinking beer from
oversized cans. Michael trailed behind with the cooler, and Deb followed with
the stack of plates and cooking tools Tia had gathered from the kitchen.
Agnes cleared
her throat loudly. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” she began, “we have a real treat
here tonight—two real live celebrities have agreed to join us for dinner!”
One of the men
looked up and slid a pair of glasses onto his face. “Real life celebrities,
huh?” he said doubtfully. “What kind of celebrities?”
“Oh my gosh…I
just saw you on television,” a brown-haired woman breathed. She rushed up to
greet them as Agnes passed the magazine over to the men, who looked over the
top of it at Dylan and Tia as they skimmed the story. “This isn’t awkward at
all,” Tia whispered sarcastically from the side of her mouth.
“Wait a
minute,” one of the men said, “I heard this story—it’s the one where that
actress tried to break you up, right?” He stood and reached into a cooler,
handing Dylan one of the giant cans and extending his hand. “I’m sorry I’m not
familiar with your music, but I can tell you that my daughter and granddaughter
are both big fans—I had to buy the granddaughter a poster of you last
Christmas. I can’t tell you how jealous they’re going to be!” Several others
agreed, and just like that, they were welcomed into the fold.
An hour turned
into two, pictures and video greetings were recorded, autographs were signed.
It was nearly ten by the time they said their goodbyes, and Tia and Dylan
headed for their own tent, trailed by Deb and Michael, whom they’d also gotten
to know better over the course of the evening.
“So, your
first celebrity excursion,” Dylan said. “Kind of weird, huh?”
“At first,
yeah,” Tia agreed, “but it was kind of fun in the end. Why did you agree so
quickly? I mean, I’m not sorry you did, but I didn’t expect it, I guess.”
“It’s a fine
line, this,” Dylan said, swirling his index finger in the air. “You don’t
always know which side you’re walking, but sometimes it’s a no-brainer. This
was just about being nice to some people who wanted to rub elbows with
celebrity; for whatever that’s worth. It wasn’t for the cameras, it wasn’t a
publicity stunt…it was just about making someone’s day. We had company anyway,
with Deb and Mike, so what’s a few more people? Their kids and grandkids will
think they’re cool, and they’ll have a great story to tell on their next trip.
Maybe the media will get wind of it and maybe they won’t, but that wasn’t the
point. The point was simply to bring a little joy to people, and that, to me,
is the fun part of the fame.” His eyes widened, and he leaned down to the
cooler that Michael had left on the porch. “Oh damn, I forgot something,” he
said, reaching inside and pulling out a now crumpled and wilting wrist corsage.
He took Tia’s hand and slipped it on her wrist.
“What’s this?”
she asked, looking oddly at the unusual gift.