An Unforeseen Turn of Events

Chapter Three

As he entered his car, getting ready to start the engine, Ryan stared at the letter on the passenger seat.

He tightened his fists and clenched his jaws upon remembering the last time he received a mysterious envelope: a friend of his wanted him to look over a screenplay of his cousin's. A favor.

I simply don't have time to help every aspiring screenwriter or author advance their career. If only they knew what little leisure time I had with my busy schedule preparing for my film projects.

He shook his head and picked it up, tempted to toss it in the trash but then thought better of it.

I'll look at it later and have one of my representatives send out a nice letter stating I cannot accept any unsolicited material for fear of plagiarizing or infringing on someone else's copyright. If I'm told it's a friend's relative looking for a break, they'll change the wording a little to make it look like I had actually gave it some consideration, he thought. No sweat. No added pressure.

He forced himself to tear his eyes off the envelope as he drove into his parent's circular driveway, bracing himself for the subject that never fails to come up whenever they are together.

As Ryan got out of his car and walked toward the front door, he passed the kitchen window and saw his mother pouring herself a cup of coffee. Her eyes brightened upon seeing her son and they waved to each other.

"Finally!" she exclaimed as she opened the front door for him.

"What finally?" her husband called from the living room as he turned the pages of The Los Angeles Times. Wearing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, he peered up toward the kitchen.

"Ryan's here. " Sara called to her husband.

Even though their son bought them a swanky Beverly Hills home, they refused his pleas to provide them with a full-time cook and a maid.

"I don't share my kitchen," Sara would always respond, guarding it as if it were her sacred sanctuary.

However, they did agree to cleaning help once a week.

"Mother could use help with the cleaning," his father conceded to Ryan. "But I don't want people staring at us all day. We need our privacy," he insisted.

Ryan rolled his eyes. Their home was spacious enough; he did not feel privacy was an issue, but he knew better than to argue.

"Come in, come in, dear," his mother ushered him in, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi Mom." Searching for his father, he found him in the next room lounging on his massive reclining chair, reading the paper. "Hi Dad."

"Hi son. Come on in. Mother just put up a fresh pot of coffee. She went to the bakery and bought you croissants," Jerry told him, his face lit up like a candle upon seeing his son. "How's the movie business going?"

Ryan was about to reply when his mother interrupted.

"And how's Krystal?" she inquired, raising her eyebrows.

Ryan slumped his shoulders. "Mom, Krystal and I broke up a month and a half ago."

"Or were you the one who initiated the break-up?" his father smiled slightly as he regarded his son out of the corner of his eye.

Ryan ignored his father's teasing.

"Right now, Megan and I are seeing each other. I don't know yet whether it's going to get serious."

"Krystal, Megan, Tori, Danielle! I don't care who it is! Just give me grandchildren already!" Sara shocked the two men with her wail, holding up her hands and looking up toward the heavens.

"Now Sara, you're being ridiculous! He can't just go out and impregnate any woman so you can have grandchildren," Jerry reproached his wife. He abandoned the newspaper on his lap and followed them into the kitchen.

Ryan felt weary even though it was only nine o'clock in the morning. He hoped this was the last of the subject he was going to hear today.

His father seemed to read his thoughts. "Sara, if you're going to keep hounding him about grandchildren, he's not gonna wanna come here anymore. Stop this already."

Sara bowed her head and tightened her lips, capitulating.

"Anyways, with all his fame and money, women are just going to use him anyway to move up and get attention for themselves," he continued gently but firmly. "How many times do we have to go through this?"

"All right! All right," she shrugged her shoulders and gently put her hand on her son's arm. "Come, have some coffee and something to eat."

Ryan bowed his head but let his mother lead him toward the kitchen. He was one of the most sought-after actors in Hollywood. He made sure his parents lived like royalty and had nothing to worry about. Why couldn't that be enough? How could he possibly marry when he traveled around the world at a moment's notice? He was well aware that gold-diggers abounded, so commitment was something he perpetually avoided. And children? That was simply out of the question.

Ryan trudged toward the kitchen with his mother. His father joined them. They were a close-knit family and despite their little squabbles, most of the time they enjoyed each other's company. He began discussing with them his two script options and they weighed the benefits and pitfalls of each one while enjoying their favorite croissants.

Ryan had left the envelope in his car. He had forgotten all about it. He wanted to relax in his parent's company before heading off to see his agent about those movie offers.