What You Don't Know (Sequel to "Secret Love")(Hunter Hayes/James Marsden)

Open At the Close

Here we go. You ready?

God Bless and Happy Reading!

Opening night was upon them, and Bethany was the only one who was managing to remain calm. She tittered from one end of the stage to the other, conversing with cast and crew members, fixing a loose string on the curtain, adjusting the lights with Benny, or checking things off her clipboard.

Bethany had been through this kind of havoc many times. When she had toured with Hunter, every night had been an opening night and a closing night all in one. This was a familiar kind of pressure. She could handle it easily, and from her experience she drew calm.

It had been so long since she had felt calm. Her relationship with Trenton had progressed; they now considered themselves to be an item, and he was with her every extra second he had. Yet she had absolutely no more evidence against him. In fact, they had barely spent any time talking since the night Hunter had dumped her, and she had not even been afforded another chance to be in his apartment.

Logically, she knew that if she was with him long enough, he would take her back to his place, and then she would have an opportunity to snoop. There was just something that had not yet settled in her stomach. Since she had licked the envelope hosting Hunter's engagement ring and shoved her tears down her throat as it passed into the mailbox, her insides had been in a constant state of upset. It was like a continuous roiling and churning, like the acids in her belly were trying to communicate through her discomfort.

She thought back to her most recent meeting with Jeremy Willakers. He had, of course, scolded her for her recent visit to Hunter. She had been stupid to think she could hide it from him. Jeremy had then congratulated her on her progress with Trenton, and had encouraged her to let it play out naturally.

"Something will happen soon, Bethany. Just wait. I have a feeling something is about to happen. Something big."

There was nothing ominous in the intonation Mr. Willakers had used. There had been nothing on the face of Reese Thereon to suggest they knew of some dastardly plan she had yet to uncover. Yet, deep in her abdomen, she had felt that gurgling, like her body was trying to register a fear her mind did not yet believe should exist.

'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'

Hunter stared down at the letter in his lap. It was addressed to his home in Nashville, and the return address bore Bethany's name. The envelope was wrinkled, the contents too large to lie flat. He knew what was inside, but dared not open it.

New York was so lovely this time of year. Hunter wished he were not around to see it. He had even haggled with Ned Conner, his label manager, to cancel his show in Staten Island, but had not succeeded. Now he had to endure three nights in a hotel room that was no more than a half hour away from Bethany James.

He had seen Amanda only the day before. In fact, it had been she who had delivered his mail to him when she had flown out for his show in New Jersey. She was still angry at Beth, Hunter could tell. When she saw him, she would hug him tight, and then she would pinch his nose like a mother trying to make her crying child laugh again. He was glad to have her, though. She had been a big help.

Again he looked down at the packet in front of him. He would have to open it eventually. Now would be a good time to do so, right?

He was just beginning to tear the paper to shreds when his phone buzzed on the counter, and Markob Jakobie's picture flashed on his caller ID. He leaned over and picked up his cell, clicking the green button just as his pointer finger wrapped around Bethany's engagement ring.

"Hunter. We need to talk."

'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'

Rory Hermstead was exhausted. The night had yet to even begin to get chaotic, and still he was ready to fling himself into his bed and call it a day. Working for Trenton McDermott was a trail and a half.

He put the last of Trenton's files back into the locked drawer from which they had come. He had so often been in given access to Trenton's private space that it had been easy enough to make copies of his boss's keys. Rory had a way into every secret Trenton could ever have. Keys to his files, his home: Trenton had never been the wiser.

It had taken months to convince Trenton that he was of so little intelligence and worth that he could not possibly be a player in the dangerous game that was afoot. Rory had done his job well. Not even Bethany, who was certainly much more astute than her peers, had seen through his ruse. No one looked twice at the unimportant intern.

Perhaps they should have.