Chapter 6
6
RYAN
I shouldn’t go.
The more I’m out and under the public’s watchful eye, the more chances I’m taking at being recognized, and the last thing I want is to have my little world inundated by the press once more.
It’s Sunday, only two days since I left LA and flew to Wisconsin, but I’m enjoying this private little bubble I’m in. Of course, at any moment, that bubble could pop. It almost happened on day two yesterday with that group of high school girls, but I was able to convince them I wasn’t Ryan. I’m not sure it will be as easy next time, especially if I keep dressing like myself.
My eyes move to the two ball caps sitting on the kitchen table. One dark blue and the other red, both with the same wrench and gear logo with the name Wright Auto printed across it. Beneath the business name is a phone number and the words auto repair, tow truck, and snow removal. It has to be Marcus’s business. How else would you explain two ball caps appearing at my front door less than an hour after I asked Marcus about where to purchase one?
Is that his last name? Wright?
I find myself reaching for my phone and doing what I’d normally do when I want information. I Google.
Immediately, I’m inundated with info on Marcus Wright, but with just a quick scroll, I can tell none of them are the Marcus I know. Of course, maybe that’s not even his last name. Deciding to try narrowing down my options, I add the town and state behind the name. Instantly, an article from a little more than three years ago in the local newspaper appears on the screen, so I click the link and start reading.
There’s a picture at the top of a younger Marcus standing beside an older man, their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders. The caption confirms my suspicions of it being his grandfather. The article explains how the business originally started in the fifties with Michael and his wife, Nina, building the small auto repair shop. It doesn’t talk about Marcus’s parents, just mentions the young boy always helping and being eager to learn from his grandpa and long-time employee, Dale Christian.
Dale.
I read the rest of the article, talking about Marcus purchasing the business from his grandfather before he passed away from pancreatic cancer around the time the article was published. Nina had passed away almost twenty years ago. Over the last several decades, the business grew to what it is now, adding the towing service and snow removal along the way.
There’s also a black-and-white photo of the original building, Nina and Michael standing in front of it with wide smiles on their faces. I take in the younger Michael and can definitely see Marcus in him. Was Marcus’s mom or dad the connection between grandfather and grandson? I don’t know why I’m so interested in learning more about him, especially since he’s been less than cordial since I arrived in town.
But even with his grumpy demeanor, I do admit, he’s appealing to the female eye. I can see why ladies might lose their minds—and maybe their panties—over a man like him. He’s nothing—and I do mean nothing—like the men I’ve always dated, but I contribute that to the difference in our social circles. He’s a small-town country boy and I’m a big-city rich girl.
We’d never work.
I pick up the red ball cap and place it on my head. It takes a few tries to tighten the strap to make it fit, and the moment I have it right, I go to the bathroom to check my reflection. My hair is down in beach waves, and I have to admit, I kind of like this look. I’ve seen it online, but I’ve never added the trucker or ball cap to my wardrobe. Can you imagine me wearing one while shopping on Rodeo Drive or at the Americana at Brand? Or in Milan and Paris? The internet would explode with gossip, comments, and opinions, and while they say bad publicity is still good publicity, my current situation doesn’t necessarily agree.
I toss the ball cap onto the counter and pull my hair back into a ponytail. When it’s secured with a band, I replace the hat, slipping the ponytail through the hole in back and smile. The hat definitely helps camouflage my appearance. It creates a shadow over the top half of my head, hooding my dark eyes and generating a touch of mystery.
“This’ll have to work,” I tell myself, reaching for my trademark pink lip gloss. Before I swipe it over my lips, I pause and replace the tube on the counter. If I’m looking to blend in a little more, I need to change the things that make Ryan Marcotte stand out.
I take in my cutoff jean shorts and red-and-white striped tank top. I brought a couple of basic fitted tanks for sleeping, so they’ll have to do until I can get to a department or big box store and buy some more basic, plain tops.
Nodding in approval of my appearance, I head to the kitchen to figure out what I’m going to take. Apparently, I’ve just decided to attend the cookout I was invited to, the one where I’ll know exactly two people there, including myself, and I can’t show up empty-handed. It’s not like I can cook more than anything basic, and I don’t foresee any restaurant having roasted bacon Brussels sprouts or balsamic asparagus salad I can grab on my way by.
But the moment I open my fridge, I spot a few things I can use. I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever been to a cookout like this, but I assume fruit would be acceptable. Pulling the grapes, strawberries, kiwi, and oranges out, I set out to slicing them up. I find a large bowl in one of the cabinets and start adding the sliced fruit. It only fills about half the bowl, but at least it’s something.
I sigh, looking at the contents. I should just stop by the market and grab a bottle of wine or something. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep, calming breaths. This feels right. I’ll take the fruit with me and if no one eats it, then so be it. I’ll bring it home and eat it myself over the next couple of days. That is why I bought all the fruit. They have a higher sugar content, but I’ve always been a fruit lover and would do extra yoga or Pilates to work it off.
Reaching for my purse, I slip a pair of brown leather sandals on my feet, grab the fruit bowl, and head for the door. As soon as I climb inside my rental, I pull up the address on my phone and plug it into the GPS in the vehicle. Instantly, it starts telling me how to get to the cabin where the cookout is being held.
Fortunately, it’s not too far away. It’s about a mile and a half up the road, but I’ll be heading farther into the national park. The sun is still shining brightly in the sky, reflecting off the water. Boats dot the massive lake, kids swim or float on rafts, and the beach is lined with families. I have to admit, this place looks like a great spot to vacation, and maybe if I were in a better mental place, I’d be able to enjoy it more.
Pushing those dark thoughts out of my head, I follow the last two hundred feet until I’m instructed to turn right at my destination. The moment I pull into the driveway, I spot several vehicles, none of them familiar. It’s a reminder I don’t know anyone here. Ellie might be the nicest person on earth, but that doesn’t mean all her friends are. Or what if it’s just an act? Maybe she’s the sweet, innocent one, who lures helpless woman to a cabin in the woods and does diabolical things to them.
At that thought I actually laugh out loud.
Yeah, Ryan. The crazy townspeople lure the tourists to a cabin right in the middle of the action, hoping the other out-of-towners surrounding them won’t see or hear a thing. And don’t get me started on the fact that all their personal vehicles are littered around the property, right out in the open.
Except that could be the perfect crime.
Hiding in plain sight.
A knock raps on my window, causing me to jump and screech. Ellie is there, her eyes wide as she holds up a welcoming, yet hesitant hand. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “It’s okay!” I holler through the window then turn off the vehicle. Before I climb out, I check her other hand, making sure she’s not wielding a weapon or whatever to incapacitate me the moment I step from the safety of the vehicle. When I don’t spot anything, I get out and shut the door.
“Welcome! I’m so glad you came. I mentioned to Hallie and Logan you might join us, and they both agreed, the more, the merrier,” she says, flashing me a wide, genuine smile.
“I appreciate the invitation.” Remembering the fruit, I reach for the back door and retrieve the bowl. “I brought fruit for the cookout.”
“Oh, that’s so great, thank you, but you didn’t have to bring anything,” she replies, leading me away from my vehicle and toward the grassy area where chairs and tables are set up.
“Well, I’ll be honest. I don’t really cook, but I can cut fruit or chop a mean salad,” I reply with a chuckle.
“The fruit is great, really.” She threads her arm through mine and adds, “Come on, let’s go meet everyone.”
Ellie guides me toward a man throwing a football with who I assume is his son. “TD, come meet Jade,” she says to the man as he catches a pass from the boy.
The man turns around and offers a friendly smile. He’s a good-looking guy, with broad shoulders and brown eyes. “Hey, nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I reply, taking his offered hand and giving it a gentle shake.
“Brody, this is Jade. She’s in town for the next month,” Ellie hollers to the young man standing at the far end of the grassy area.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Brody hollers with a wave, which I return.
“Come on, let’s go meet the others,” Ellie says, steering me toward the front of the cabin. A group of guys exits, all good-looking in their casual shorts or jeans and T-shirts. “Everyone, this is Jade. She’s the one I told you may stop by. Jade, this is everyone. Gabe, Logan, and Gavin.”
“Hello,” I acknowledge, earning a variety of greetings in return.
“Make yourself at home. We’re getting ready to throw food on the grill, and the ladies are finishing up some of the sides. That’s code for gossiping in the kitchen,” Logan states with a smile and a laugh.
“Come on, let’s go meet the girls.” Ellie drags me inside the super cute cabin. The décor is a bit more modern than what’s in my cabin, and you can tell by all the baby stuff everywhere they use it frequently. “Ladies, the woman I was telling you about showed up! Meet Jade,” she says, pulling me into the kitchen to where the trio of woman stand, chatting.
“This is Blair, Ava, and Hallie, and those two little sweet faces are Makenzie and Wrenlee,” she informs me, pointing to the two sleeping babies inside a playpen.
The first two welcome me with smiles and waves, but it’s the third one that catches my attention. “Holy shit, you’re Ryan Marcotte!”
My eyes widen as my chin automatically lowers, hoping the hat shields more of my face. Before I can reply, it’s Ellie who speaks. “This is Jade,” she reiterates, saying the words a little slower this time.
“No, this is Ryan Marcotte of Ryan’s Reality ! It’s on E!,” Hallie insists, her eyes alive with excitement. “I’ve watched every episode of your show!”
All eyes turn toward me. “Holy crap, you’re right! I’m Blair, by the way. I just started watching your show because Hallie insisted. I wear your makeup line.”
My mouth falls open, but no words rush out. I feel like a fish out of water right now, wishing I knew what to say or do. Instead, I focus on the last part of her statement and mutter a quiet, “Thank you.”
Ellie turns to me, her eyes full of confusion. “You’re Ryan Marcotte? Why did you tell me your name was Jade?”
I clear my throat, feeling terrible for having deceived her. “My name is Ryan Jade Marcotte, and when I’m trying to fly under the radar, I will use my middle name.”
“I can’t believe you’re here!” Hallie proclaims, practically jumping up and down where she stands. “Everyone is buzzing about where you went.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “I’m sure the stories and speculation are horrible.”
“Oh, they are. One entertainment show says they heard you went into rehab after what happened at the end of your show,” she says, making my stomach drop to my feet.
“I heard you were spotted in Paris with some prince of some small country no one can pronounce,” Blair adds.
I sigh, grateful to be taking a social media hiatus. The last thing I need is to read the rumors and lies being said about me. Not that it would be any different than any other time, but still. Not now, when I’m still reeling from Vaughn’s very public betrayal. “I’m sure it’ll all die down soon.”
Fat chance of that happening. I don’t know why, but the paparazzi love me. I’m the Hollywood Princess, as I’m often referred to. The daughter of one of the industry’s biggest movie producers and a former beauty queen turned philanthropist. I was practically born royalty.
“So, you’re here, hiding out?”
“What made you choose Pine Village?”
“Did you really not know what the big surprise was they were promoting for your season finale?”
“Okay, stop,” Ellie says, holding up both hands. “Let’s all take a deep breath. I’m sure Jade, or Ryan, has her reasons for doing and saying what she has. Let’s not completely overwhelm her in the first couple of minutes. I promised her a great time, just hanging out with my friends, and that’s what we’re gonna give her. If she wants to tell us more, so be it, but we will not push her,” Ellie says, giving Hallie a pointed look. Turning to me, she adds, “If you don’t want to stay, I would completely understand. My friends are good people, and if you do want to stay, we will respect your privacy. No one here will say a word about your presence.”
My heartbeat starts to settle for the first time since Hallie outed me in front of everyone. “Thank you,” I reply, still feeling a bit overwhelmed.
“Come on, let’s take this food outside,” Blair announces. Turning to me, she adds, “I hope you’ll stay, and yes, Ellie’s right. We won’t say a word about you. No photos or anything,” she insists.
I nod, appreciating the hospitality and understanding.
Grabbing the fruit bowl, I follow behind the others outside and to the picnic area. There are tables and chairs set up as they begin preparing to serve the food. I set my bowl next to the pasta salad and step back, watching the dynamics. I have friends—dozens and dozens of them—but this feels different. These women are close. You can feel their love and bond, and even though I talk to my friends, I realize I may not know them as well as I should.
Sure, I know Calista doesn’t like lobster and that Sasha cheats on her boyfriend with her tennis instructor, but how well do I really know them? Deep down, you know? Their fears and worries and biggest regrets.
Just watching the women together for a short time feels different than anything I’ve experienced, and I don’t know why. I don’t know these women from Eve, but it’s just a vibe I pick up on, like a sixth sense flowing from the group.
“So, what do you think? Are you going to take off?” Ellie asks as she approaches.
I should. These four women know who I am. All it would take is one person telling another for it to slowly work its way to social media. From there, there’s no stopping it. It would hit every phone, every computer screen, every TV in America in a matter of seconds. The town would be swarmed, like bees to honey. That’s not me being arrogant. It’s a fact. I’ve dealt with life under the microscope since birth, and I know how it goes. I’d have no privacy, which is exactly what I wanted when I chose this place as the spot to hide away for a little while.
“I’d completely understand if you do, and I still promise we won’t speak of it.”
I nod in appreciation and know what I want to do. “I’d like to stay, if it’s all the same.”
“Absolutely!” Ellie proclaims, clearly very excited about it. “You’ll have fun, I promise.” She threads her arm through mine once more. “Come on, let’s go grab a drink.” Before we can take two steps, she stops. “Oh, what name do you want us to use? If you’d prefer to go by Jade, that’s fine.”
A part of me wants them to call me by my real name, but I can’t take the chance of someone overhearing them use it and out me. “Umm, you can call me Ryan when it’s just us, but maybe Jade when we’re in public?” I suggest, feeling relieved by her understanding and compassion.
“We can do that, Well, Ryan, it looks like the food is ready. How about we grab us a plate and get to know each other.” She turns to the others. “Ryan is going to stay and eat with us. She agreed we can call her Ryan when it’s just us, but to keep her privacy, we’ll call her Jade in public. Don’t make this awkward,” she insists, her narrowed eyes leveling on Hallie.
She gapes at Ellie. “I would never.” To me she says, “Come on, Ryan. Let’s eat!”