Wildest Dreams

20. Pierre

PIERRE

D ays go by. I text and call Kendall multiple times but get no response. At what point do I cross the line from pathetic to creepy and stalker-ish?

We were in a good place when I left her apartment Sunday morning, so I know this has to be about the photos, but she should realize it’s all fake. She was there when the photos were taken. She knows the truth.

I can only guess that she doesn’t like the attention, which I understand. She’s not used to this. People post junk about me all the time. They always have. I know how to ignore it. She doesn’t.

I just wish she’d talk to me.

The days are growing warmer in Alabama as we settle into June, and a summer storm pushes back filming scheduled for the local baseball fields by one day. I spend that day catching up on email and talking to Harriett, who assures me that the end of this mini-romance is for the best and warns me not to let it distract me from the movie, but it’s hard. I haven’t liked a girl this much in…I don’t even remember. Probably never.

The silence is maddening.

* * *

O n Thursday, I show up to the make-up trailer stationed at the local baseball park as the sun is beginning to peep over the horizon. The sky has a glorious orange glow from yesterday’s storm. Instead of being here, I wish I were enjoying the view from the back deck of Kendall’s rental house, watching the sky change above the glittering river. I’m falling in love with this place. And with Kendall.

By the time I emerge from the trailer, the local extras have filled the parking lot and cars are lined up on the curb going all the way down the road. The air is hot and sticky from yesterday’s rain, and I know I’m going to need multiple touch-ups from the makeup girl after I sweat everything off.

The extras are meeting with the assistant director near the central clubhouse. It’s a mix of adults and a few kids, some dressed in baseball uniforms. Most people are still and paying attention, except for one little towheaded boy who is running around screaming profanities. I only have a second to wonder where his parents are before I see his mom run from the other side of the crowd to grab him.

I immediately recognize Patsy and my heart leaps. Maybe Kendall will be here too.

Who am I kidding? She won’t even return my texts. She’s not going to show up where she knows I’ll not only be working, but working with Marina.

This is, however, a chance to talk to Patsy and find out what’s going on. If anyone knows, it’s her.

The AD breaks the meeting and everyone walks to their respective parts of the park. I start to follow Patsy, then feel a hand go down my back. I cringe, knowing what I’m going to see when I turn around.

Of course. It’s Marina.

“Belladonna wants us over there,” she says, pointing in the opposite direction.

“I’m aware of that, but?—”

Then I hear Belladonna’s voice booming from her megaphone. “Principals. Here. Now.”

She’s looking directly at me.

I sigh, look back to where Patsy has taken a seat on the bleachers near the edge of the park, and turn to walk away. Marina walks beside me, but as soon as I see my on-screen son I break from her and trot to say hi to him and his parents. He’s dressed in a little baseball outfit with a glove that’s larger than his head.

We go through scene blocking with Belladonna and shoot until lunch. Craft service hustles to get everyone fed and I stop to take a few photos with locals while we wait for food, my eyes constantly scanning the crowd for Patsy.

Finally, I see her. She has the foul-mouthed boy from earlier on her hip, though he’s far too big to be carried. She seems to be taking it in stride, laughing and talking with some of the other moms.

I leave my place in line and walk to her. Her face lights up in recognition.

“Pierre! Hi!” She introduces me to her friends, and after I take photos with them, they leave me alone with Patsy, for which I’m grateful.

“Patsy, I hate to ask you this, but?—”

“Kendall still isn’t talking to you?”

I chuckle. Of course she knows. “No, she’s not.”

“Yeah, you’ve really thrown her for a loop.”

“In a bad way?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the best thing to happen since her divorce. You’re exactly what she needed. She’s a little freaked out. That’s all.”

“What should I do? I really like her. I want to spend as much time as I can with her before I leave, but she keeps pushing me away. Do you think I should back off or keep trying?”

“She’s not going to answer her phone.” She puts her hands on her hips and bites her bottom lip while she thinks. “You need a sweet gesture. Do something to get her attention. Just not, you know, in public where she could end up on TMZ.”

“Yeah, that was awful. I feel terrible.”

“I doubt it was your fault.”

“No. Quite the opposite.” I pause, thinking. “Should I send her flowers? Diamonds? What do you think?”

“She’s definitely not ready for diamonds, and they’re really not her style anyway. Flowers are good. She’ll like that.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you, Patsy.”

“Anytime. And Pierre?”

“Yeah?”

“Be sweet to my girl. She deserves the best.”

“I will. I promise.”

She smiles, showing off the gap between her front teeth. “I gotta go wrangle these young’uns before they kick us out of the movie.”

I laugh, then wave goodbye as she leaves. I check my phone. I have thirty minutes before filming picks back up. The line at craft services has shortened, so I grab a turkey sandwich, find a bench in the shade, and look up florists in Magnolia Row. There’s only one. I call and tell them to send every rose they can find to Abbey Accounting as soon as possible, offering to pay if they need to buy some from a neighboring town. I have no idea how many I ordered, but it was stupid expensive.

She’s worth every penny.