Page 38 of Romance Is Dead

“What a prick. What a little snake.” I was pacing my room, still fired up that evening from what I had learned about Trevor earlier in the day. “He had the audacity to pretend to be a fan when I met him.”

“What a pathetic way to make a living.” Teddy leaned forward on the sofa, resting his arms on his knees as he clenched his fists. “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d sure as hell make him sorry he ever said a bad word about you.”

Teddy had been even angrier than me when I cornered him on set to tell him about Trevor’s double identity. Come to think of it, it was the only time I could remember ever seeing him angry.

“I’d say.”

“It does make me more convinced Audrey did it, though,” Teddy mused.

“True.”

We’d spent the day analyzing every comment Audrey made and we even eavesdropped on another of her phone calls, but all we learned was that she was suffering from a persistent foot fungus and that her mother was on her fourth divorce.

“We know she’s not actually British, which suggests she’s hiding her identity,” I pondered. “Trevor loved spreading gossip, so if he figured out who she really is, that might be motive.”

“And Brent?”

“Now that, I’m not sure of.” My phone dinged with an email — the next day’s call sheet had arrived. “He was definitely harassing her on set less than an hour before he died. Maybe after getting away with killing Trevor, she’d gotten bolder?”

“Maybe.” Teddy sounded distracted.

“Are you ok?”

He frowned at his phone, leg jiggling. “I don’t know if I can do this. The scene tomorrow.”

“Really? Which one is it?” I grabbed a copy of the script from the desk. It was the scene in which Teddy and I try to fend off another attack from the witch. It’s a lot of action, and would require careful blocking, but nothing particularly difficult.

“I don’t understand. What’s the problem?”

Teddy snatched the pages away from me and stabbed at the offending line with his finger. “Look, right here. My character ‘grabs a loose leg off a chair and hits an incoming spell so it veers away and ricochets off the wall.’”

I tried to understand, truly I did, but something wasn’t clicking.

“Teddy, I’m still not getting it. It sounds like you have to hit the thing like a baseball. They’ll have you hit a ball and CGI the effect in later.”

“That’s the thing!” He took a deep breath. “I’m scared of playing baseball.”

I stared at him blankly. “What?”

“I know, it’s dumb.” He raked a hand through his hair, grabbing at it in agitation. “I had a bad experience in Little League when I was eight, and I haven’t been able to hold a baseball bat since. There’s no way I’ll be able to hit that ball.”

Wild theories ran through my head. Had he accidentally killed someone? Had someone nearly killed him? At. . . Little League?

“What kind of bad experience?”

“It was the third night of practice.” His eyes glazed over as he spoke.

“I’d been striking out, literally, every night before that.

When it was finally my turn, I hit the ball on my first try.

I was so excited when it went flying through the air.

But then it went sailing straight into the coach’s balls. ”

“Oh no.”

“And all the kids started laughing, because nothing is funnier than someone getting hit in the balls when you’re eight, right? But the coach was in a lot of pain! And I felt so bad. And no matter how much my dad helped me practice, I couldn’t hit another ball the rest of the season.”

The corner of my mouth twitched. “Baseball or testicle ball?”

“Both.” Teddy’s face cracked into a brief smile before crumpling again.

“It’s so lame. But now that it’s in my head, I can’t turn it off.

I can’t focus on practicing my lines, because all I can think about is either not being able to hit the ball on cue or that I do hit it but then I hurt someone again. ”

“Listen.” I nudged his thigh with my foot. “There’s a baseball diamond in town. If we head out now, maybe the lights will be on and we can practice.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. As long as you don’t hit me in the, er, balls.”

A wicked look spread across Teddy’s face as he surely bit back a snarky comment. “Deal.” He hopped off the bed and reached out his hand to help me up. “Let’s go.”

The field was only five minutes away, a little diamond tucked behind an elementary school on the edge of town.

A single light was on above home plate, illuminating the bases and casting deep shadows into both the outfield and the dugouts.

Tiptoeing onto the field, knowing we shouldn’t be there, made me feel like I was back in high school — sneaking out after my parents were asleep and feeling that rush of freedom with an undercurrent of risk.

Although the risk here was, admittedly, pretty low. A slap on the wrist by local police was nothing compared to Puzzle Face himself looming in the doorway as you made your way back home at two in the morning.

“If we get caught, I’m letting you go down for this,” Teddy said, like he was reading my thoughts. “I’m not ruining my pristine record for a game of catch.”

“Pristine record?” I hopped into one of the dugouts, looking for a spare ball. “Lame.”

“Just means I haven’t gotten caught.” He bent down and peered at me through the fence separating the field from the dugout, one eyebrow raised. “You’re saying you do have a record?”

“Well, no.”

“Lame.”

“Touché.” Grinning, I knelt in the dirt and ran my hand under the bench until my fingers brushed something round and smooth. “Found one!”

“I see a bat over there.” Teddy jogged toward home plate as I headed to the pitcher’s mound.

“I don’t want to brag, but I’m pretty amazing at baseball.” I scuffed the plate with my foot, making a show out of getting into position.

“Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

“Tony Todd taught me when I was a kid. He guest-starred in one of the Puzzle Face movies.”

“Wait, the guy who played Candyman?”

“The one and only.”

Teddy shook his head as he choked up on the bat. “We had very different childhoods.”

I grinned. “Alright, slugger.” I wound my arm back, waiting. “You ready?”

Teddy tapped the bat on home plate. “Let ’er rip.”

I wound my arm back and lobbed the ball gently toward home plate. It sailed perfectly toward Teddy, who. . . missed it completely.

“Aw, come on,” I cracked. “I lined that up for you perfectly.” But Teddy’s mouth remained a grim line and he tightened his grip on the bat as he stared at his shoes. Even from where I stood, far away, I could sense his shoulders tightening and his jaw clenching. Maybe it wasn’t time for jokes.

I grabbed the ball once again and tossed it as gently as I could. Once again, Teddy missed.

“Third time’s a charm.” This time, Teddy’s bat made direct contact with the ball. It wasn’t the strongest hit, but it went a few yards before skidding toward third plate.

“Woohoo!” I threw my hands in the air and cheered, jumping up and down in celebration. “You did it! Watch out, Hank Aaron! That’s a baseball player, right?”

“Shh, you’re gonna get us kicked out.” But his face still broke out into a grin, and he jauntily sent the bat twirling into the air before catching it again.

We practiced for another twenty minutes, with Teddy steadily improving until we were confident that even if he wasn’t ready to try out for any baseball teams, he’d at least be able to handle the scene the next day.

He even hit the last ball so far that it sailed into the outfield.

Ready to call it a night, I jogged off to retrieve it.

After plucking the ball out of the grass, I tipped my head to the sky.

The night was startlingly bright — the moon big and beaming, the stars sparkling across the atmosphere.

I never got to experience moments like this.

LA didn’t have these kinds of views for one, but I was also always so busy flitting either to and from sets and studios or on the way to one event or another.

It was nice, enjoying the quiet like that.

I sprawled onto the grass, taking it in.

Maybe I could move to an area like this, where I could see the stars every night.

Footsteps swished in the grass behind me.

“You disappeared.” Teddy stopped at my side, tilting his head to take in the sight. “Damn, that’s a beautiful view.” And then, he lay down next to me, tucking his arms behind his head.

“It is beautiful.”

“Too pretty not to memorialize.” He outstretched his arm, his phone camera facing us. “If that’s ok?”

I hesitated. The idea of snapping a cozy photo of the two of us felt strangely intimate — it didn’t feel like friends with benefits, it felt like something more. But Teddy’s face was so hopeful, and deep down, I was curious to see what we looked like together.

“Ok,” I relented.

Teddy inched closer and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I nestled into the crook of his neck, inhaling his woodsy scent. He tapped the screen and the flash momentarily blinded us.

“Let me see!”

“So eager,” he teased. He tipped the screen my way and there we were, overblown by the bright light.

Usually, I didn’t like myself in photos, but I liked this one.

A small smile curved my lips and my eyes were closed like I was in bliss, my head nestled on his shoulder.

Teddy had also avoided looking at the camera, gazing at me instead.

It was beautiful, I had to admit. We were beautiful.

As Teddy made sure the photo was saved, I nudged him with my elbow. “You’re welcome, by the way. Childhood trauma conquered.”

He chuckled, a low rumbling sound, but didn’t say anything.

My brow crinkled. “You ok? You were great out there. You’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“It’s not that.”

“What’s up?”

“I guess. . .” Teddy hesitated, visibly uncomfortable. “I wish my dad could have seen that, is all. He would have gotten a kick out of it.”