Chapter Seven

Last Resort

Diantha put a hand to her face, sighing as the director cut the scene off once more. On a typical day, the goal for filming was to get at least two and a half minutes of the full movie done. Today, the director was hell-bent on getting a five minute scene done by the end of the day.

It was the scene where her character, Elise, was to confront her friend about her reluctance to follow her love to the north. They would then get into an argument, to which her convincing line would be when she broke down in tears, begging Tawny to not "be like her". To not run from everything once it got tough. That if she really loved him, she wouldn't let anything get in the way of it.

The lines at hurt at first. Receiving the full script only five months after walking out on Cynthia, they struck a nerve. At the very least, the tears came easily at first.

Now, forty-seven takes later, it was getting tiresome. Her skin was irritated from the constant reapplication of makeup, and she wasn't sure she had anymore tears left in her. Fake tears weren't an option. They were annoying to apply, and would break continuity.

Walking over to her chair, she waited for the makeup artists to make their rounds once more. Silently, she prayed the director would call it a night.

Two hours and a few too many more takes later, she finally released everyone.

Gathering her things, Diantha was among the first to leave. She wanted to go home. She wasn't interested in spending any time with her costars, or anyone on the staff. Home was her only objective. If she got out of the studio quick enough, she might even avoid the co-director.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

As fate would have it, she wouldn't.

Turning around, she was faced with Mel Gardner, the man who still couldn't take a hint. The man who relied too much on his 'classic good looks' to get what he wanted —like the co-director position. As expensive as bleaching his hair to that shade of blonde would be —which of course she knew was fake who was he trying to fool— it and his hazel eyes did nothing for her.

"Home, Mel. I'm tired." She didn't want to delve any further. He had already annoyed her enough by chasing her out to the parking lot.

He laughed, running a hand through his short hair. "I hear you, it was a long day. I won't keep you long, I just had a question for you."

"What?" She mentally slapped herself for even giving him permission to ask.

"You're not needed on set tomorrow, and Lita already cleared me for a day off. I was wondering if you would like to have lunch or something together." He stepped towards her, making her step back.

She sighed. "I already told you." Three other times, to be precise. "I don't date co-workers."

He leaned his weight on one foot, unperturbed. "I'm merely asking as a friend."

They weren't friends.

"I won't consider it a date if you don't, Diantha."

For a split second, if that, she had the urge to slap him. She was tired, emotionally drained, and still hurting over Cynthia. He knew all of this. It was the tired part he was playing at, though.

Once to a certain point of exhaustion, she would do anything to get out of the situation. Like agreeing. "Two conditions: You pick the place but it better be discreet. I do not need any rumors starting. Two: you better not bore me." She regretted her choice of wording in an instant.

He leaned in, close enough to where she could smell his cologne. It was bright and bitter smelling. "Don't worry, Diantha. I will make it worth your while." The way he said it made her skin crawl.

Turning around, she was done. "Don't even think of picking me up before noon."

"Of course. Goodnight, Diantha." The smirk in his voice kept her skin crawling.

The whole way home she chastised herself for the decision. At least Kathi Lee and her mother would be thrilled. The only thought that comforted her was that maybe the lunch would go so bad, everyone would finally see they weren't compatible, and would finally drop it.

Once home, she mechanically went through the process of getting ready for bed. With her makeup off and the day showered away, she drug herself to her room, shrugging on a dark grey sweatshirt. One she should have gotten rid of months ago, but couldn't. Not when it was the few things of Cynthia's not lost during her move to southern Wisteria.

If it had flattered her figure more, she might have considered wearing it to her lunch date with Mel.

As she lay in her bed, that without another person felt large enough to swallow her, she struggled to get sleep. She thought it would have come easily considering it had been two days since she was last able to sleep in. Instead, memories of Cynthia haunted her as they always did.

With a sigh, she rolled over to her side, staring at the wall. "I wish you were here." Then she might have an excuse to tell Mel no, but even then, that was a convenient excuse.

In actuality, she wished with all her being that she had never abandoned Cynthia.


Unfortunately, despite everything she had against him as a person, it wasn't the worst lunch date she had ever been on…


Diantha looked at her mother as they sat next to one another in the grand room, feeling a twinge of desperation rise up within her. She wanted to confide in her. To wrap her arms around her so she could cry and feel comforted as she had when she was a child. To feel the warmth of a mother's embrace, and to feel like she would be protected.

Past experience, however, had taught her that it was a bad idea.

Anytime she would dare confide in her, it would always come back to burn her later. It would always result in some form of emotional manipulation. Always.

It didn't stop the feeling from leaving her choked up.

"Dear Diantha," she said, placing a hand on her cheek. "You always look miserable these days. Your pretty face is going to wrinkle early if you keep it up."

She shrugged, turning away from her. "I won't be young forever, so I don't see why it matters. If I'm going to be an actress for the rest of my life, then I should be ready to take on any role. No matter how young or old I look." She hoped it was a safe enough answer. At the very least, it didn't mention the masters degree she was working on. The one her mother was wholly against.

When she started to laugh, Diantha realized it wasn't the right answer. Then again, no answer ever was the right answer.

"Darling, striving to not look your age is what every woman should do. You certainly wont keep Mel around if you look forty before you've even turned twenty-five."

She hummed in thought. "If that's what it takes to finally get him away from me, then so be it, I suppose." It earned her a hard slap on the hand.

"Diantha Ann Ruston, you have a very good thing going for you, and I will not let you throw it away like that! Mel is handsome, charming, and very well off. The two of you make an excellent pair. Unlike anyone else you've ever dated, he won't clip your wings." Considering she had only dated one other person besides Cynthia, and that had been in high school, it was definitely a slight against Cynthia.

She only sighed in response, turning away from her on the couch. She didn't want to dig her grave any further.

"Darling, look, I know it can be tough in the beginning. Love isn't easy. It took me awhile to come around to your father, and look at us now!" It took everything in her to not respond with something snarky that would get her more than just a slap on the hand.

"Give him a few more chances, Diantha. Just, stop keeping ahold of whatever it is you're holding onto, and see that he's a good man. This is a good thing. You two are perfect for each other. You'll see." She patted her knee before standing, leaving Diantha all by herself.

Once again, the feeling threatened to grab hold of her. Before she could force it down, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

Despite everything, she still just wanted to be comforted by her mother.

Instead, her parent's poodle strode in the room, his black fur sporting a fresh, gaudy haircut that brought a small smile to her face.

"Hello, Bella," she greeted, allowing herself to get lost in the motion of petting her.

Bella rubbed against her legs, seeking out every possible scratch, leg twitching when her back was scratched.

Diantha laughed, telling her to sit at her feet.

After some silence between them, and a few more pets, an idea came to mind.

"Maybe Mel is the easy way out," she mused, ruffling Bella's ears. "Can't be all that difficult, right? I'm…getting used to him. Dates with him aren't all that miserable, if I'm honest. I could learn to love him. Mother and Kathi Lee will be off my back, and father would approve of us getting married. Settle down. He'll likely want kids…"

Bella grumbled in response, putting her head in Diantha's lap.

The more she thought about it, the more she had to convince herself it was the easy thing to do…


Months later, Diantha found herself walking down a red carpet for the premiere of Unto The North. The whole day had been a daze. Going with the motions, she could recall little of what had happened. She remembered waking up, having her makeup and hair done, and being forced into a burgundy dress at some point. How she ended up with her arm linked through Mel's she wasn't even sure.

The sooner this all was over with the better.

Through the whole showing, she couldn't get comfortable. Mel sat too close, leaned in too much to make too many asides to her. Though, by this point, she had just accepted it as part of him. He was always going to invade her space, and so she followed her mother's advice to just get used to it. In ways it made him more tolerable. At least, it was what she was convincing herself of.

Seeing herself on the screen would momentarily ground her. It wasn't something she was ever fond of. Watching herself only lead to critiquing everything. Many of her scenes she wasn't sure why they were picked. There were many other takes she felt like she had given a better delivery.

Maybe she'd ask Mel what he knew of the politics behind picking takes…


Standing on the balcony, Diantha leaned against the railing, letting the cool night air rush over her. Footsteps soon followed, but she didn't care to look to see who it was. The way they moved was familiar to her at that point.

"Mel," she greeted, keeping her eyes on the city ahead of her.

"Diantha," he said cooly, standing next to her.

They stood without saying a word to each other, listening in to the winding down party. After awhile, he grew impatient, placing a hand atop hers casually.

"Can't say I enjoy their taste in wine."

Innocuous enough conversation, but she could see exactly where it was headed. And she let him.

Easy way out, she reminded herself.

"It's all cheap and not sweet enough for me," she responded, not looking at him.

He laughed. "I always figured you were a woman with expensive tastes."

"You have no idea." He really didn't.

Bringing their hands down to lace their fingers together, he gave her a sly smile. "What do you say to ditching this? I've got a bottle of wine in my room I think you might like."

Despite herself, she said yes, asking him to lead the way. Word had already gotten out that they had seen each other off set multiple times. She was beyond the point of caring what rumors started as glances were thrown their was as they left the party together.

Once up in his room, she allowed herself to walk around a bit. It was a suite that left nothing to be desired. The large bay window caught her attention the most. It's view was breathtaking, giving her a full scope of the city that was now below them.

She watched him approach from the reflection in the glass. She turned on him, not about to let him make the first move. Everything was going to be on her terms. She might have had little control elsewhere in her life, but she was going to have full control over this no matter what.

Grabbing a fist full of his tux, she brought him close, catching him by surprise. It almost amused her. "Mel," she began, keeping her voice low. "Make this easy for me."

He chuckled, putting his hands on her waist. "Wine might help that," he joked.

"I don't want your wine. I want you to make me forget about everything that isn't you." As anticipated, he took it as pure innuendo.

For at least one night in well over a year, she did forget.

The next morning, however, was a different story. Waking up in a haze, but with a little more rationality, the reality of what happened between her and the man sleeping soundly next to her weighed down on her.

Forcing herself to get out of bed, looked around the floor, trying to find her purse. She wasn't about to wear the same dress out, and Mel's oversized dress shirt that she was wearing also wasn't an option. Kathi Lee would have to come to her rescue.

Once she found her purse, phone still inside, she made her way to the bathroom. The white marble below her feet was cold, and the room seemed devoid of warmth.

Pulling up Kathi Lee's contact, she waited for the inevitable snark.

"Well, I was wondering if I would have to track your phone to figure out where you were at."

An uncomfortable reminder at best.

"I'm still at the hotel that hosted the after party. I…stayed with Mel."

She heard her laugh on the other end.

"Are you wanting to stay longer, or are you asking me to send someone to get you?"

"Have someone get me, and bring me new clothes. Walking out like this in my dress from last night will stir up more rumors." She looked herself over in the mirror. A few small marks by her collar, but thankfully nothing she couldn't hide.

"How about I go by the pharmacy and then come get you myself."

There couldn't have been much else she was insinuating other than emergency contraceptive. Likely a good idea.

"Call me when you're here," she said before hanging up.

When she walked back into the room, Mel rolled over on the bed, giving her a sleepy grin. "Leaving me so soon?"

She hummed, walking back over to him. "Not quite. It will be awhile before Kathi Lee gets here. You still have to put up with me for awhile longer, I'm afraid." She sat down, putting one leg up on the bed.

He hummed in response, burying his face in his pillow. Looking back at her, he was surprised by her soft expression. Normally there was a certain distance and something cold about her —to him, a challenge. A challenge he was sure he had finally won.

When she placed a hand on his cheek, he couldn't resist a laugh. "Told you you just needed to get laid. Now look how soft you're getting."

She instantly retracted her hand, going right back to the cold look he was more used to. "Don't push your luck, Mel," she warned.

He gave her his classic grin, forcing her to let her guard down once more. There wasn't going back on anything they had done at that point. If there weren't already articles about them printing, there surly would be some soon.

It was officially time to get herself to move on from Cynthia.


"Alright, Miss Carolina, can I get you anything?" Oliver asked, walking Cynthia's grandmother to her chair.

She shook her head, taking her spot. "I'm good."

He stood tall, looking between her and Cynthia, who had already taken her spot on the couch. "I'm going to go pick up Avery from kindergarten, then I'm gonna get Kay from work. Either of you need anything?"

Cynthia wouldn't look at him as she told him no.

Carolina looked at him, giving him a sweet smile. "We're good. We'll let you know if we need anything."

With a nod, he headed out.

Carolina looked over at her granddaughter. "You're still not fond of him, are you, Cynthia?" Eighty-seven with failing health, but still sharp as a tack. Nothing could get past her.

She kept her gaze forward. "Never have been. Never will be."

She leaned back in her chair, taking a deep breath. "Promise me something, Cynthia. Promise me you won't let him come between you and Kay."

Unfortunately, it already had. She couldn't remember the last time the two of them had been alone together without getting in some sort of argument. Now that they basically lived together again back with their grandmother so they could help take care of her, it was becoming quite the regular occurrence.

A sad thing, really. She couldn't find a definitive reason to dislike Oliver. He was good to Kay, and great with Avery. Yet, there was just something about him that bothered her.

With Cynthia refusing to say anything, Carolina dropped the subject. Turning on the tv, the commercial immediately gave way to some midday talkshow. The sight of the main guest made Cynthia's stomach churn.

Diantha.

"Please change the channel," she begged.

Carolina kept the remote in her hand, but wouldn't change the channel just yet. "Cynthia, you need to talk about what happened and how it affected you. Bottling it up is only going to make things worse in the end."

"It's been over two years, Grandma. I'm over it. I just don't like talkshows."

She hummed in response. "You know, your grandfather has been gone for well over fifteen years, now. I still miss him every day. It's okay to not be over it."

Cynthia's shoulders tensed. "You were married to him for forty-six years, grandma. That's different from a five year relationship."

"Maybe so, but that doesn't mean you can't be in pain. It's not a competition."

For a few more seconds, she lingered on the channel. The volume wasn't up to where they could really hear anything they were saying, but Cynthia could easily see that Diantha was uncomfortable. She was putting on a good front, but the way she held herself screamed otherwise to Cynthia. Plus, she held her hands a certain way when she was upset.

With a sigh, she asked her grandmother once more to change the channel. She didn't like realizing that Diantha's body language was still clear as day to her.


Avery wandered into the living room, looking at her aunt. She had yet to move from the couch all morning. It was almost as though she was becoming a permanent fixture to the couch. "Are you just sad?" She asked, point blank.

With a sigh, Cynthia figured there was no use lying to a five year old. "Yeah, I am."

She crawled up on the couch next to her, putting her head on her shoulder. "Are you sad because of gramma?" She asked.

"Yes." Among other things. Though, her grandmothers recent trip to the doctors was weighing heaviest on her mind. Things had been going downhill for the last year, but now it was starting to really gain traction. It wasn't looking good.

Avery took her head off Cynthia's shoulder, wrapping her arms around her, laughing a little when she pulled her into a hug. "It's okay Aunt Cindy. I get sad about it, too sometimes."

It hurt Cynthia to hear, but it was the reality of the situation. She hoped for Avery that she wouldn't be able to remember any of it one day. That was the luxury of being a child.

"How about we go play outside," she said, getting both of them to stand. Her body hurt from sitting in one spot too long.

Avery perked up. "Okay! I'm gonna get my shoes!"

Stretching out her arms, a few too many joints popped. Getting outside would probably be good for her.

Just in time for Avery to run back into the room, Cynthia's phone began to ring. Looking at the screen, it was Steven calling. "Avery, I'm going to talk to Steven real quick. I'll be outside after I'm done."

"Okay!" Her shoes were barely tied as she rushed out the door.

"Hey," Cynthia answered on the last ring.

"Hey, so, what airport would be better to fly into? Calgary and Rennon International are both pretty much the same distance from your grandmother's, right?"

She had to think for a second to see if she understood his question. "Wait, hold on, I said I just wanted you to call me, not—"

"If it's going to be an inconvenience then I won't, but I want to come out to be with you right now."

"I don't want to inconvenience you! I know you got the job about a year ago, but I mean, it's still basically new. You don't need to fly back out here. It'll be fine."

"I already talked with my boss. He said it's fine. Now, which airport is better? I can't remember."

She forced a laugh, knowing he wasn't going to change his mind now that it was made. "Well, if you want me to come get you, I'd rather pick you up at Rennon."

"Alright. Should I arrange for a hotel? Or, I guess I could go to my father's and borrow a car from him."

"You can stay with me. I need to check on things at my apartment, and getting out of here would probably do me some good, anyways…"


Standing with Steven in her living room felt odd. She hadn't been to the apartment in over a month, and prior to that, only a few times.

The weirder thing, she realized, was now standing face to face with Steven. It had been over a year since he took his new job, and they hadn't seen each other since. Sure, they called each other regularly, but being together was a whole different thing.

Already, she found herself in better spirits. All the stories of weird people Steven had met over his year of working at the science museum left her laughing the whole ride to her apartment.

It was all a reprieve she didn't realize she needed until she actually had it.

He went to say something, going quiet when she put her arms around his neck in a hug. They had a quick reunion at the airport, but she didn't want to cause a scene there. Now, she could hold onto him as tightly as she wanted.

"I missed you," she told him, feeling his arms around her waist.

He laughed, leaning his head against hers. "Missed you, too, Cynthia."

When she pulled away, he smiled at her, reaching up to push her bangs out of her face. "Just making sure you still have your other eye," he joked, watching her roll her eyes at him.

She brushed her hair messily over her head, pushing him slightly. "Like I haven't heard that at least twelve times a day for the last million years."

"Tell me," now he was just amused. "Does that affect your vision in any way? Or do you do it on purpose, like a pirate! Cover one eye so it will be adjusted for—"

She shoved him again, harder, but still kept him within her grasp. "Did you really fly over four hours just to tease me? How much of that did you think of while on the plane?"

Something about the way she was looking at him, combined with the messy look of her hair caught him off guard, making his mouth go dry. His hands trailed to her hips. "The only thing I thought about was how much I couldn't wait to see you."

She felt her cheeks burn a bit.

Both realized they were treading into a territory neither had thought to before.

Carefully, she balled her hands grabbing his shirt.

Before either of them could make the next move, her phone rang in her pocket. She pulled it out hastily, grumbling about how whoever it was better be important.

Still in his grasp, he overheard every word of the conversation. It was Kay. Their grandmother had passed…


Siebold leaned back from the flames, smiling to himself as the dish all came together. Once the fire had calmed, he turned to begin the plating process.

"Son! You're needed in the dining room!"

He looked over at his father. "Can't it wait? I'm busy," he said, returning his attention to the dish.

"Just finish that, okay? We're close to closing anyways, so you can leave the rest to Raoul. Besides," his tone turned playful, "he's a pretty handsome young man."

Siebold's cheeks pinked at that. "Father," he grumbled.

"I'm gonna keep embarrassing you until you get out there."

With another grumble, he turned things over to the sous chef, washing his hands before heading out to the dining room.

In the waiting area, stood Steven Stone. He figured his father only withheld telling him who it really was because he wouldn't have gone out otherwise.

"Well," Siebold began, rolling the cuff of his shirt as he approached the shorter man, "when my father said there was a handsome man here to see me, I suppose he wasn't wrong. To what do I owe this visit after two years of not speaking to me, Mr. Stone." For a split second, he worried it sounded too bitter, but then he remembered that he didn't care.

Ignoring the handsome bit, Steven figured it was best to get straight to the point. "I'm terribly sorry to turn up like this, and I wish I could say that I'm here to be social."

Looking him over, he figured whatever he had to say would best be kept private. With a wave of his hand, he brought him to a section of the restaurant that had been closed down for the night. "What do you need?" He asked, leaning against a table.

"I hate to use you like this, but I need your help. I need to get ahold of Diantha."

With a quick roll of his eyes, Siebold pushed himself off the table. "Well, good luck with that—"

"Siebold, please!" Steven reached for his arm, keeping him in place. "This isn't for me. This is for Cynthia. I'm at a loss of what to do for her, and this is my last resort."

The desperation in his voice brought Siebold to a stop. He could have easily torn from his grasp, but chose not to.

"Carolina passed away a few days ago, and both Kay and Cynthia are a mess over it, but it's Cynthia who has me most worried. I haven't seen her like this since her mother passed away when we were children. Please, Siebold. I'm genuinely worried she might try to hurt herself." He let his hand fall from his arm, giving him the chance to walk away.

He was quiet for a few seconds. "Steven, do you honestly think seeing her ex girlfriend, who is seeing someone, would help?"

He shrugged, looking away. "Like I said, this is my last resort. I don't know what to do, but maybe if anyone can get through to her I'm hoping it will be Diantha. They knew each other better than probably you or I knew them."

Siebold couldn't argue with that.

Rubbing his neck with a hand, he let out a sigh. "I…Steven, look, I want to help but…I can't give you Diantha's number, because it would get her in trouble with her manager, and I can't guarantee that she will even speak with me. Ever since she started officially seeing Mel, she hardly talks to me."

That hurt Steven to hear. They had been childhood friends, just as he had been with Cynthia. He didn't want to think about the pain he would feel if Cynthia dropped contact with him. "Really?" He asked, trying to keep his tone sympathetic.

He nodded, now the one to avoid eye contact. "Mel doesn't like how close we were, and I never made it a secret that I didn't like him."

Steven wanted to laugh. Siebold never made a secret of anything, really. "Any insight on what she sees in him, anyways?"

"Do you want my honest opinion?"

The way he asked intrigued Steven. "Yes?"

He looked around before leaning in just a bit. "I think it's the ultimate test of her acting abilities. Did Cynthia ever tell you of the time she ended up acting herself into an actual panic attack?"

He nodded.

"I think she's trying to act herself into loving him." He leaned away, almost laughing to himself. "If I were to tell you right now that I loved you, there would probably be more warmth behind my words than when she says she loves him."

Ironing out a few more details, Siebold promised to pass along Steven's number to her, and do what he could. Before Steven could leave, Siebold stopped him.

"For what it's worth, Steven…I wasn't your friend just because you were Cynthia's friend. I did enjoy your company, and I have…missed you." He felt his face grow warm. He wasn't used to being sentimental in any way.

At that, Steven felt guilty. He had never intended on hurting Siebold. "I live out in Cordova now, but I promise I'll keep in touch from now on. I missed you, too…"


Cynthia walked into her apartment, intending on only grabbing a few things before heading back to her grandmother's house. Her feet dragged below her, and every step had hurt for the past few days. Every day she prayed she would wake up from her nightmare.

In her living room, she saw that her tv had been left on. She couldn't even remember watching it in the first place. Maybe Steven had left it on. Maybe every day was just blending together.

Before she could turn it off, the next news segment caught her eyes. She felt the remote fall from her hands as the news anchor eagerly talked about the engagement between Diantha Ruston and Mel Gardner.

Like a switch, something in her flipped.

Picking up the remote, she flung it at the tv, missing and leaving a large dent in the wall. "You bitch!" Was about all she could yell, throwing anything and everything she could, eventually toppling the tv over.

"It was supposed to be me!"

Ornaments and decorations of all kinds throughout her apartment: shattered.

Her kitchen was overturned.

No amount of breaking things could settle the storm that was unleashed inside her.

"I was so much better than him! I respected you! When you said no, I backed off! I— He doesn't know you like I did! He doesn't care about you like I did and he never will!" She felt herself starting to get too choked up at that point. Tears feely flowed.

Grabbing the ceramic carnation —a gift from diantha— off the counter, she flung it against the wall, watching it shatter into a million pieces. "Bet you were fucking cheating on me, weren't you! Wi-with that -that asshole! That's why you left!"

Shaking, she stopped herself in the front hallway. Looking over the large, glass-famed map, she felt as though she was leaving her own body as she slammed herself against it in a last ditch effort to feel something other than emotional pain. In an effort to put a physical wound to her emotional one.

The next thing she knew, Kay was standing over her, phone in hand, frantically talking to someone. Steven had her head propped in his lap, begging her to stay with him.

For a few seconds, she found herself worrying about him. His hands were covered in blood, but then, as the searing pain started to seep in, she realized it wasn't his. It was hers, and there was a lot of it.