Page 6 of Beyond the Fame

I desperately needed their love. I needed them to see how broken I was without my best friend. Any time I’d try to talk to them about my grief, they’d wave me off, tell me it’s too hard to talk about it. Yet, they could talk about Tyler’s death with Lana, with my grandparents, and their friends. Why not me?

I didn’t understand it.

I had no one, and that’s probably why I started writing the book my senior year of college.

Despite my parents’ protests, I delayed going to college so I could grieve. I also took on a light class load my freshman year. Instead of the typical four-year college stint, mine took nearly six years.

I was studying journalism. I always had a knack for telling stories. So, I poured my grief and emotions into Tyler’s Team, telling the story of my brother’s inspiring life and how he raised money for cancer research until his last breath. I shared all his selfless acts of kindness throughout high school and college.

I also wrote about his romance with Lana.

Their love was one I’d always dreamed about—a love I hoped to one day have with someone. They were childhood friends before becoming a couple, and not one moment did I feel like Lana was taking him away from me. She treated me as her own sister, including me in conversations, taking me bowling or out for ice cream.

When they left for college, I missed their friendship. Until I found my own friends, real or not.

I never thought anyone would read the book I wrote, and I hadn’t planned to do anything with it. Then I was telling my roommate, Ashley, about it. She was an English major, and she offered her expertise. It also helped that she read a lot of books. Something I used to do before I forced my true self to hide behind the manufactured woman I am today.

Ashley told me it was the best book she’d ever read. She cried, she laughed, and she encouraged me to send it out to literary agents. I did, and on top of the dozens of rejection letters, I also got dozens of responses offering representation.

Years later, when the book was released, it skyrocketed to success after an A-list celebrity chose it for their monthly book club. Then Hollywood came calling. I never realized how tedious the process was to turn a book into a movie. I was constantly told that my situation was special. It differed from other authors. I had an overwhelming amount of offers from movie producers to buy the rights for Tyler’s Team. Enough that I was able to make counteroffers. My only stipulation was that I got to help write the screenplay and approve any changes made. My agent even got me final approval on casting and filming locations.

Eighteen years after my brother Tyler died, the screenplay was written, and the book was finally being made into a movie. Eighteen years and I was still grieving my brother’s death. Lana, his fiancée, was still grieving his death, but she moved on. She met Mylan Andrews, who was cast to play my brother in the movie. The two hit it off. They both healed each other.

I needed that. I needed someone just as fucked up as me to understand. To see me like Tyler saw me. To see the woman I used to be.

There was a brief moment I thought Jensen Boliver could be that for me.

He’s nine years younger than me, bossy as fuck, and an asshole. We fought nonstop over changes to the script, and I hated him so much for it. Jensen was my last chance to get the movie made, and near the end of negotiations, I knew I was going to have to relent. All the other directors who signed on dropped out after I refused to compromise to their demands.

Jensen was going to be the same; the producers were going to walk away, and the moment I realized I was fucking it all up, I rushed out of the conference room where negotiations were being held in Downtown Los Angeles.

I wasn’t gone long—five minutes at most—when Jensen found me.

I think about that day a lot—how he just held me, neither of us speaking. He was so big compared to me and in that moment, I felt safe. I felt cared for. No one had cared for me like that since Tyler had. Not even the men I dated.

After that final meeting, I stopped Jensen before he walked out the door. I wanted to thank him for comforting me in the bathroom. I thought maybe my first impression of him had been wrong. Maybe he wasn’t an asshole. I wanted to get to know him, but whatever compassion Jensen had offered me in that bathroom just minutes before was gone. He closed himself off. He almost seemed angry that he’d let himself be nice to me.

Whatever.

I didn’t need his pity.

I didn’t need him at all.

“Welcome. How can I help you?”

The hotel clerk’s accented voice draws me from my thoughts about him.

“Hi, Rebecca Taylor. I have a reservation.”

The woman, who looks to be in her early twenties, types away at the computer with her purple painted fingernails. Her rows of braids are pulled back into a wonderfully full ponytail. Her dark brown skin glows with a sheen of sweat from the tropical climate pouring into the open-air hotel lobby.

I’ve been to Hawaii before—Maui and Oahu—but only for book signings. Both times, I only had one day, barely getting a chance to explore. I want nothing more than to go chasing waterfalls, to walk through lava caves, to soak my feet in the ocean, or lie on the sandy beach and enjoy the sunset.

This time, I’m in Kauai for a wedding; my first one.

Ginger Ann Cartwright and Bruno Stein are getting married.

The two met during the filming of Tyler’s Team four years ago and they fell in love. Bruno was Mylan Andrews's bodyguard before quitting a few years ago to start his own personal security business that he runs with Ginger, Lana’s best friend.

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