Chapter 16

16

Lauren stepped out of the shower, relieved to have washed the day off. And oh what a doozy of a day it had been.

All day long, standing two feet away from Ben, having to repress her feelings… He was acting like an ass. She was acting like a bitch—because, yes, she was self-aware enough to recognize it even if she hadn't figured out a way to stop it yet. Both of them were behaving so badly that their job performance suffered.

Yeah. Not exactly a banner day in the life and career of Lauren Harrison.

When the shoot finished, she just couldn't stand being there even a moment longer. As she stood by the town car, miserable, waiting for Ben to finally emerge, one of the PAs kindly offered to arrange a taxi for Ben to take when he was ready to go, since it was clear that their schedules weren't aligning.

She was tempted to weep in relief and gratitude.

Right then, to her the prospect of a blissfully, solo car ride back to the hotel sounded like it would have the equivalent restorative powers of a week in the Bahamas.

And it was lovely, riding in the smooth, air-conditioned silence across the orange-gold desert plains at sunset. It felt mystical, healing, and Lauren sensed the calming influence of the harshly beautiful desert landscape working on her soul.

Building on that momentum, immediately upon entering her hotel room, Lauren called upon her other dependable ally in the war against emotional chaos—a good, long, hot shower.

In her experience, it was nearly impossible not to feel like a whole new person after a long, hot, cleansing shower.

Afterward, she sat on her bed with her hair brushed out, and wearing her most casual attire—designer jeans and a soft, cotton-blend T-shirt—ready to go out and get something to eat.

Ah, yes, she thought affectionately. The return-to-mental-stability trifecta: a moment of solitude, a long shower, and a hot meal. Never fails.

As she stepped out of her room to head for the elevators, she heard a spat of giggling from down the hall. She automatically turned her head towards the sound and then froze at what she saw.

Ben. And a girl. Going into his room.

And they both looked very happy to be doing so.

The girl was young—college-aged, Lauren would guess—and although Lauren couldn't see her face, she could see that she had long, coltish, California-tan legs and shiny and voluminous, wavy, chestnut hair.

Lauren could tell by the easy grace and confidence with which the girl carried herself, her effortlessly radiant manner, that she was beautiful. Lauren had that 'pretty girl' confidence, and she recognized it in other women. This girl had it.

Lauren felt like she'd been punched in the gut.

Even after Ben's door closed, she stood stock-still for a moment.

Then anger began to bubble up inside of her. Anger at the nerve of him. Anger at his insensitivity. Anger at him for simply not feeling as strongly about her as she felt about him.

She let that anger simmer and build, encouraged it even, because it felt so much better than the alternative—searing, gut-shot pain.

Her first instinct was to knock on Ben's door, burst in on the happy couple, and give that snake a piece of her mind. Seriously, wouldn't that feel good?

Even in her heightened emotional state, however, she recognized the lunacy of that plan. It would be ridiculous. Sure, she might have strong feelings for the guy, but that didn't mean that he belonged to her. She had no claim on him. He owed her no explanations. They weren't in a relationship, and she shouldn't care who was going into his room.

But she did. Oh, yes. And it didn't matter if it wasn't any of her business. The fact was that she very much cared what leggy, young brunettes were going into Ben Stevens' room.

She needed to get over it.

No. She realized suddenly that what she needed was a reality check. And there was only one person who could be relied upon to dole them out with dependable, sharp-eyed clarity.

Lauren opened the door to her room and stepped back inside, pulling her phone out of her bag as she did. She searched her contacts until she found the photo of the girl sticking her tongue out at the camera.

When Karina answered, Lauren said, "Okay, Confucius. I think I need a little more of your wisdom."

Karina listened raptly as Lauren told her all about how Ben had been treating her that week. Lauren left nothing out; the production meeting, the ADR session, the trip to Palm Springs, the shoot, how he'd been either completely ignoring her or aiming little pointed jabs, trying to bait her into a fight.

"And the worst part, Kar—the absolute cherry on top of the crap sundae—is that, not even ten minutes ago, I saw him take some wide-eyed, giggling college girl right into his room, right in front of me."

There was silence on the other end of the line. Lauren wondered if the call had dropped.

"Karina? You still there?"

"I'm here. Sorry," Karina answered. "Just processing. So, I have a couple of questions."

"Shoot."

"First of all—have you asked him what's going on?"

"No. God, he's in his room with her right now. I'm not going to just knock on the door and burst in there," Lauren said indignantly, leaving out the part where she had considered doing exactly that.

"Not about the girl, you goofball. About all of it. About the sudden one-eighty in personality."

"Well...no. I mean, I'm not going to get down on my knees and beg him to treat me with common courtesy."

"Yes. Of course, you're right, Lauren. That's exactly what I suggested. It's uncanny how you can read my subtext. When I wondered if you'd asked him what was going on, of course what I meant was that you should prostrate yourself in front of him and beg for basic human kindness."

Lauren sighed. "Point taken. So, no. In answer to your question, I haven't asked him what's going on."

"Okay, well, since we don't have his input, then we're gonna have to do a little Matlock on the situation."

"A little what?"

"Matlock. You know. We're gonna have to do some detective work."

"Matlock was a lawyer."

"He also detected things. Oh my God, you are the worst person to have a relationship talk with, ever. Either you're picking apart my pop culture references or I'm having to strain to hear you while you whisper over running water. If this is what I'd be dealing with, I'm rethinking starting that advice column. How about Columbo? Rockford? Father Dowling? Do those television detectives meet with your approval?"

"Um...I feel like, if those are the references that immediately spring to mind for you, perhaps you spent far too much time watching television with your grandmother growing up."

Karina snorted. "Play me in Pop Culture Trivial Pursuit sometime and we'll see who's laughing then."

"Touché. Now back to my situation?"

"Okay, so when was the last conversation you had when he was being completely nice?" Karina asked.

"Let's see. I guess...it was when we were driving home from the airport, coming back from Aspen."

"Okay. And what was that conversation about?"

"Well, he was being sweet, actually. Really sweet. In fact, he even asked me to go to the Hometown Heroes Ball with him."

"Uh-huh. So what did you say?"

"Well, I told him that I already had plans to go with a friend."

"What?! Oh my God. Binzer!"

"What? What's a Binzer?"

"Binzer... You know. He was Dan Tanna's sidekick on Vega$. He was always saying dumbass things. Kind of like telling a hot guy you just slept with that you already had a date to a formal function he invites you to? You know. Dumbass things like that."

"Oh, okay. So we're still doing the television detective thing, then? Awesome," Lauren said dryly.

"It is awesome," Karina replied. "When I begin a thread of pop culture allusions, I like to follow it through the conversation. So, listen up, lady. If you want to be promoted up in the hierarchy of ‘Sidekicks to Fictional Detectives Played by Robert Urich' from Binzer to the far superior Hawk? You're gonna need to get your head in the game."

Lauren sighed. "I don't know what you think I should've done. I had already told Eric I would go with him."

Karina sighed, her tone growing more serious. "Look, babe. You know I am one hundred percent Team Lauren, right? Let's just start off with that right from the jump. But you've gotta realize—you hook up with this guy, then he asks you to go to a very public event with him, and you blow him off, telling him you were already going with "a friend." You don't mention that said 'friend' is a gorgeous guy. You then end up sucking face with said gorgeous guy in front of not only Ben, but also the whole town.

"Then you show up to work Monday and are actually surprised that Ben is giving you the cold shoulder? Come on, Lauren. You aren't that na?ve."

Lauren was completely taken aback by this recitation and said in a small voice, "People saw Eric kiss me?"

"Yep. But more to the point, they saw you kiss Eric right back."

Lauren said defensively, "Well, it's just… I wanted to give it the…you know, the old college try. I "should" like Eric. On paper, he's perfect for me. He was my first, he's hot, and he's a really nice guy. He's exactly the sort of person I should end up with.

"But there was nothing between us when we kissed. Nada. No sparks, no chemistry, nothing. Zilch."

"Okay. Perfectly reasonable. Makes sense to me. Probably because, you know...I've now heard you say it. Have you explained this to Ben?"

"No," snapped Lauren, her defenses rising back up. "I don't owe him an explanation."

"Hmm, true. Kind of like he doesn't owe you an explanation for a girl being in his room. Right?"

Lauren was quiet. She knew Karina was right, but she didn't want to admit it.

Into the silence, Karina said, "Look, if you don't want to talk to him, how about just showing up at his door in nothing but a coat and then flashing him?"

"Oh my God, I'd never do that!" Lauren protested.

Karina sighed. "I really think you have somehow missed the memo on the power of female nakedness."

Lauren laughed. "That powerful, huh?"

"Hey, they don't call me the Puppet Master for nothing."

"No one calls you that."

"Sure they do."

"I've never heard anyone call you that."

Karina snorted. "Whatever. Like you know all the people. Anyway, just food for thought. Gotta go, Bernie's calling. Love you, girlie! Call me if another crisis occurs that you need me to enlighten you about."

Before Lauren could come back with a witty retort of her own, Karina had disconnected the phone.

Lauren couldn't say that she really felt any better after the phone conversation with Karina. No, she still felt all of the acidic emotions that had been burning inside of her before the call—anger, despair, sadness, and confusion. The only difference was that, now, they were no longer directed at Ben, but were rather focused squarely upon herself.

Why did this have to be so complicated?

--- ~ ---

Ben opened his hotel room door and gestured for his gorgeous young companion to enter ahead of him. As soon as they were inside, he wrapped her in his arms, emotion filling his face.

"God, I've missed you!" she exclaimed.

"Me too, Bri," he said, the power of his affection making his throat tight.

She drew back, laughing happily, and then ruffled his hair. "You know, Mom's gonna kick your ass if you don't call her soon just to talk. Every time you call, it's to get an update on her medical situation, and she feels like you're too worried about her."

Ben sighed. "Gee, sis. So glad you could make it out from UCLA on such short notice. You're like a little ray of sunshine popping into my life."

Brianna shrugged. "I live to serve, big bro."

Ben spoke carefully, knowing full well that he was broaching sensitive territory. "So...how is Mom doing? It's hard to tell on Skype."

Brianna shrugged, looking down at her T-shirt, plucking at a thread that had apparently become suddenly quite fascinating, "Oh, you know. Good days and bad days. She doesn't want you to worry."

Ben barked out a short, ironic burst of laughter. "Well, that's a non-starter."

Brianna's lips formed a sad, little half smile, "Yeah. I know. I mean, she just feels bad about you taking care of her, you know? Like, she should be taking care of you instead. But she can't."

Ben nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"So, is this what you've been upset about? You've been worried about Mom?"

Ben crinkled his forehead. "Who said I've been upset?"

"Mom said you've been cranky the past couple of times she's talked to you."

Ben shrugged. "Well, yeah. I mean...the past few times we've talked, she's had some bad medical news to share. I'm not gonna throw a party on Skype."

Brianna narrowed her eyes at him. "Yeahhhh...this is more than that."

Ben shook his head in annoyance at his little sister's persistence.

"Is it money? Because you know you don't have to pay for UCLA. I can get a job, student loans—"

"Hell no. I'm not having you graduate from college already strangled with debt. Besides, money's fine. I've got this new show in the works, and the agency's doing better than ever. Don't worry about money. I've got your school covered, several times over."

Her light-brown eyes narrowed farther. "Then it must be...a girl," she said knowingly.

"Nope," he responded a little too quickly.

"Hah!" she pointed a finger at him accusatorially. "It is a girl! You sly dog, you! Mom was right! It's that woman you're working on the show with. Laura or something."

"Lauren."

"Ben and Lauren." She tried the combination out on her tongue, considering thoughtfully as she said it. "I like it. It has a nice ring to it."

Ben gave her a mysterious half smile, but refused to acknowledge what she was saying.

"Aww..." she fawned over him with a wide, playful grin. "I think it's cute! I like seeing you tied up in knots over a girl. It's a helluva lot more fun to be tied up in knots over than the things you normally have to worry about, like taking care of a sick mother and practically raising a pain-in-the-ass little sister. Not to mention being financially responsible for it all."

He smiled, ruffling her hair. "You know I wouldn't trade it."

"You know, Ben. I may be only twenty, but I am studying to be a psychologist. You should tell me what's going on. I could help."

He snorted. "There's not a snowball's chance in Hell that's gonna happen, my little pain in the ass," he said affectionately.

She smiled the superior smile used only by those who know they have the ultimate upper hand. "Fine," she said airily, pulling out her phone. "If you don't want to talk to me, I'll just call Mom. I'll tell her how miserable you look and that it's over a girl."

"Bri, don't be a brat. Mom needs to be resting. She doesn't need you calling her and bothering her with this."

"Ha!" Brianna cried triumphantly. "You think I'm calling and bothering her? She sent me on this mission, dear brother. I'm supposed to be fact-gathering. She's expecting my call."

"Bri, don't," Ben said more emphatically, his voice taking on a warning tone.

"I'm dialing," Brianna singsonged, sliding her finger across the face of her phone to unlock it.

Ben grabbed for the phone, but she was young and nimble, and she managed to keep it away from him.

Not wanting to burden his mom with his tales of Lauren-related woe while she should be focusing on recovery, he reluctantly relented.

"Fine, fine!" he said a little too loudly. "I'll tell you what's going on."

Smiling triumphantly, Brianna put away her phone and then hopped up on the bed, crossing her legs in front of her like a kindergartner getting ready for story time.

"Okay, then, Benny boy. Spill," she said gleefully.

Ben shook his head, hesitantly launching into the tale—glossing over the sex part, of course. He shuddered. She might be twenty, but he didn't think she'd ever be old enough for him to talk about that with.

When he finished detailing all of the tense situations that happened that week during shooting, she asked pointedly, "So all of this tense and mildly hostile interaction—including her going to the Hometown Heroes Ball with her hottie cop friend—that's all been since you got back from Aspen?"

"I didn't say he was a hottie," Ben pointed out.

She looked at him like, Come on. Seriously .

He wasn't going to argue with her. The guy was attractive. So he moved on and nodded.

"So, have you asked her what changed?"

Ben shook his head in the negative.

Brianna rolled her eyes. "And you say I'm the immature one. Do you think she's just freaked out because you guys slept together?"

Shocked, Ben spluttered, "We... What are you... I never said—"

"Yeah," she said dryly, "calm down. You were very careful to euphemism the hell out of it. But in my experience, when two consenting adults who are hot for each other go out of town together for the weekend and their "relationship changes" and their "connection evolves" and they "grow much closer"—well, let's just say it's a pretty safe bet that they did it. Several times, in all likelihood."

Ben closed his eyes, pained. "I'm still operating under the assumption that you don't even know what 'it' is and you never will."

Brianna sighed. "Look, Ben, I'm not a little kid, no matter what you might lull yourself into believing. I know about this stuff. And what I know right now is that, no matter what else happens, no matter what comes of it—you need to sit down and talk to her about it."

Ben gave a quick, decisive shake of his head. "No way. She's clearly not taking this seriously. Why should I?"

"Because it's obvious to me that this is the first relationship you've ever had that you actually are taking seriously. Don't you think that at least deserves a conversation?"

"I'm not taking it that seriously," Ben protested.

Brianna rolled her eyes, her preferred way of expressing the sentiment 'Whatever!' since she turned twelve years old.

"I'm not," he reiterated, although more weakly.

"Sure, bro," she said sarcastically. "Whatever you say."

Ben shook his head, but he knew in his heart of hearts that he didn't believe his protests any more than she did.