Turn the Page

By Rebecca Lovell

One of the hottest horror novels in the genre is getting a movie adaptation and Chelsea Tanner is on site in Los Angeles to make sure her vision is carried out smoothly. Never a public person, she spends the majority of her time at home trying to write her next novel, but after a traumatic event forced her to move from her home in Oregon she's somewhat stuck. A chance meeting with her favorite actor at the gym might prove to be the love she's always dreamed of, but little does she know that someone from her past is watching her, and as she and Marc get closer, so does her stalker.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebecca Lovell
• Release date: Mar 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201740689

Book preview

chapter

one

This is it? Marc Lynch stood in front of the saddest-looking half bicycle he’d ever seen, staring at it as if by doing so he could make it more appealing. Not only was it his first time trying Spin class, he was going to have to do it riding something that looked like it had fallen out of the eighties and landed on its face.

He glanced into the studio where people were chatting as they wheeled their bikes in and arranged them so they could see the front and with a sigh, tipped the last bike up and pushed it in along with them. Once he got inside he realized he had no idea how to set the thing up and looked furtively around at the other riders, trying to figure out how to do it. There were knobs all over the place and, much to his dismay, one of the stirrups on the pedals didn’t have a buckle.

Oh no, a woman’s voice said three bikes down. Marc looked up to see a woman with a bandanna tied around her dark brown hair sitting straight up on the seat, her legs moving smoothly in large circles. She pressed a knob on the bike and her legs slowed, then she seemed to unsnap her shoes from the pedals and went over to him. You got the last turkey in the shop, huh?

Yeah, it’s kind of… Marc didn’t know what to say, and the woman smiled.

Switch with me, she said. You’ll have to adjust it but I don’t want your first time to be on this old piece of crap.

Are you sure? It was almost pointless to ask; she was already fiddling with the knobs and moving the seat around.

Positive. For one thing, there’s no strap in this cage. Unless you have spin shoes, she said, kicking up one foot so he could see the metal plate on the sole of her shoe, you won’t even be able to ride it. Marc opened his mouth to protest and she shook her head. I’m not the best at teaching someone how to set up your bike, so grab Pete – he’s in the lime green – and have him show you.

Thanks, Marc said, looking around to see where Pete was. I really appreciate this.

No problem. The woman grinned at him and looked like she was blushing, something he attributed to the fact she had already been riding when he came in. Marc went over to the man in green and cleared his throat.

Excuse me, Pete?

Yeah? Pete had a thin, good-natured face and Marc recognized him immediately.

Pete Dixon? From Paramount?

Hey, Marc! I never thought I’d see you here, Pete said, clapping him on the back. As it happened, Pete Dixon was a producer at Paramount Studios and Marc wasn’t surprised in the least that he recognized him. When you were an actor living in Los Angeles, it was just one of those things. Your first time?

Yep. And I have no idea what I’m doing.

I’ll help you out. He unhooked his own shoes from the pedals and Marc considered asking him where everybody got them, then decided he’d better figure out if he even liked spinning before he bought some. They went over to the bike and Pete laughed. Wow, you picked a tiny one.

Sort of, Marc said, looking over at the woman who had adjusted the bike to her liking and was once again riding at an easy pace.

Stand here next to the seat. You want it at about hip level.

Okay.

Pete turned out to be incredibly knowledgeable about the bike, and they had it adjusted in no time. Once Marc was sitting on it and his long legs were in a comfortable position, he felt a little more like he was supposed to be in the class.

How are you liking Carrie Lansing?

She’s great. In fact, I think she’s the reason I won that Emmy in the first place. A blonde woman so small that she made the woman who had traded bikes with him look like Gwendolyn Christie came through the door and Pete slapped him on the shoulder.

Good luck, man. Illy’s a hell of an instructor and I’m almost certain she drinks her body weight in coffee before she comes here. Pete went back to his bike and Marc glanced at the brunette again. He felt bad for not asking her name and decided that he was going to catch her after class to say thanks again before putting his bike away.

All right, the instructor shouted into her headset as she turned up a pumping beat. We’re gonna sweat this morning so I hope you all brought your water and towel! Marc, who had not brought either, had a bad feeling about this but decided he would make the best of it.

As promised, the workout was intense. They not only rode on the seat like a regular bike, they stood up and rode like they were jogging, and every possible way in between until Marc’s quads were burning in the first couple of songs and he was wondering what had possessed him to try spinning in the first place.

He hazarded a glance over at the brunette and was impressed to see that she was keeping up with the instructor far better than he was. Her face was bright red and sweat ran down the sides of her face as she rode, every now and then checking a watch on her wrist before turning her attention back to the front. Marc knew he should be paying attention to the instructor but he couldn’t stop looking at the woman who had helped him.

She couldn’t have been more than thirty, and with the brightly colored tattoos that covered her arms she either wasn’t an actress or was one in a specific type of role. Her face didn’t seem familiar to him, though, and he supposed not every good-looking woman in LA had to be an actress. She also wasn’t one of the impossibly lean women he associated with the fitness scene, and it made him even more curious as to who she was. The way she leaned forward and ran on the bike made him want to work harder, just in case she was looking over at him, and he sped up slightly.

By the time class was over Marc’s legs felt like worn-out rubber bands. When he got off the bike he was also dismayed to discover that his ass was sore in ways he hadn’t expected. Instead of moving his bike right away, though, he went straight to the woman who was now taking off her shoes.

Hey, Marc said, his words bringing her head up to look at him.

Oh, hi, the woman said with a smile. Her red tank top was drenched with sweat and her face was twice as red as it had been before. Strands of hair stuck out from her bandanna and the way she tried to smooth them back made him think she’d done it thousands of times before. I see you survived your first class.

Thanks to you, he said. I wanted to say thanks again for switching bikes with me.

No problem, she said, slipping off one shoe and exchanging it for what looked like a running shoe. You have to get here early to get a decent bike. If you come back, I mean.

I probably will, Marc said, watching her change shoes. Hey, I didn’t get your name before.

I’m Chelsea, the woman said with a smile as she took a drink of water. Nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you too, Marc echoed. I’m Marc.

I know who you are, Chelsea said, still smiling. "You were my favorite on Crosswind. Marc looked at her in surprise and her face somehow managed to get even redder. That’s not why I switched bikes with you though."

I’m glad. All around them people were wheeling their bikes to the door and Marc looked around. Hey, you wanna grab some coffee or something?

Right now? Chelsea looked surprised by this and Marc nodded. I was going to go for a run right after this but yeah, I’d love to. Can I go home and take a shower first? She motioned to herself. This is not me at my best-looking.

Nobody looks good when they’re working out, Marc said. Especially if the workout was a good one. Want to meet at the Starbucks down the block in like an hour and a half? He glanced at his phone and Chelsea looked at her wrist. Marc realized that it wasn’t a regular watch she was wearing, it was some sort of sports watch.

Sure, she said. Sounds great. Her smile had turned into a grin by this point and Marc was struck again by how pretty she was, sweat or no sweat. In fact, the way she had been attacking her pedals made her even more attractive. I’d better move this big bastard back out, she said, tipping the bike up with some difficulty.

Here, let me get that, Marc said, hurrying to take it from her. It had been heavy for him, and he wasn’t a small man. Chelsea didn’t argue, instead getting the bike that had originally been hers. They parked their bikes by the wall and Chelsea went back to the studio to get her bike shoes.

I’ll see you in a little while, she said, heading for the locker room. Marc nodded and fished his keys out of his pocket. He was really looking forward to this.

Back in her apartment, Chelsea stared at herself in the mirror. She’d taken her hair down and washed it but she didn’t own a blow dryer so she hoped Marc wouldn’t hold it against her if her hair was a little damp. It was already starting to curl a little and she sighed, then decided to braid it. It didn’t matter to her what she looked like when she went to the studio, she could always pass it off as being eccentric. Coffee with a good-looking guy was completely different. She had a feeling Marc was going to be disappointed when she showed up.

Shaking off the jitters that had showed up as soon as she got home, she went to her closet and fished out her favorite dark skinny jeans and a black v-neck shirt that she felt accentuated what figure she had nicely. She was a little curvier than the last couple of dates she had seen Marc with at various awards shows and decided to play it up. Part of her felt she should dress up a little more but it was just Starbucks. As soon as she walked in he might turn around and leave.

Once she was dressed, she went back into the bathroom and put on a light dusting of makeup before settling her glasses onto her nose and looking at herself rather critically. She supposed she could have looked worse.

Maybe he’ll ask if we can see each other again if I don’t act like too much of a basketcase, Chelsea thought as she started out the door with her bag slung over her shoulder. Something occurred to her and she hurried back to the closet to grab one of a handful books she had on the shelf. Tucking it into the bag, she locked her door and headed for her car.

She made it back to the Starbucks right on time and found Marc inspecting a wall of travel mugs with a serious look on his face. All of a sudden Chelsea’s nervousness threatened to run away with her. Marc was one of the best-looking actors she’d ever met, and she’d had a mild crush on him since the first time she saw him in a character role on one of the Law and Order shows. With a baseball cap over his blonde hair, green eyes, and just muscular enough build, he looked like a grown-up surfer and Chelsea liked it.

See anything you like? Chelsea tried to sound casual but when he looked over at her with a boyish grin she nearly melted. How did I get lucky enough for him to want to have coffee with me?

My mother collects these mugs, he said. Not the travel ones, the ones with the cities on them. The first thing I did when I moved out here was buy her the Los Angeles one, and every time I go to a different city I buy one for her there if they have one. He turned back to the wall. They’ve redone some of them since she started collecting, though.

That’s an interesting thing to collect, Chelsea said, thinking to herself that he must love his mother a lot. Though I suppose a lot of people collect them, otherwise they wouldn’t exist. I mean, I’m glad they do exist though. Everyone needs a hobby, right? To her horror she discovered that she was starting to babble. She still wasn’t used to meeting actors, especially not ones she had a crush on.

I know I do, he said with a sigh. The closest thing I have to one is playing with glass.

Playing with what?

Let’s grab our coffee, Marc said. I want to get a seat before everyone else shows up. He led the way to the line and Chelsea wondered if he’d think she was being too nosy if she asked what he was talking about. It wasn’t a date, not really, but she didn’t want to embarrass herself all the same. Let’s see, he said, looking at the menu. Give me a venti caramel macchiato with extra caramel and non-dairy whipped cream. He turned to Chelsea. What about you?

Oh, I can buy my own, she said, fumbling her wallet out of her bag. The book she had packed fell out and hit the floor with a smack and Marc reached down to pick it up.

No, go ahead and order whatever you want. I’m the one who asked you to come.

All right, Chelsea said. A tall nonfat chai latte, please. The barista scribbled on a cup, then glanced up at her.

Name?

Chelsea. He scribbled something that looked vaguely like her name on it, then looked at Marc.

$15.86. Marc nodded and handed him his card, then turned over the book to see the cover. His eyes scanned it, then widened and he looked down at Chelsea.

You’re Chelsea Tanner?

No shit? The barista finally looked interested. "I loved Iron Bones." Chelsea blushed a little as she felt Marc looking at her. She was used to people looking at her and telling her they liked her books at signings but she was rarely recognized on the street.

I’m glad, she said. "Have you read Covington Hospital? It was the book Marc was holding and he shook his head. I’ll bring you a copy next time I’m in. She smiled at him as he handed Marc back his card. If you haven’t already read it by then, that is."

That’s awesome, thanks! Your drinks’ll be ready in a couple of minutes. He looked at her arms and his smile turned into a grin. I love your ink, too.

Thanks, Chelsea said, stepping away from the counter. Marc found them a table and they sat down across from one another. He was still looking at the book cover.

I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. Have they started filming yet?

Most people don’t recognize me, she said, still blushing. "Filming starts next week, actually. They’re keeping me close as a consultant, which I’m really pleased about. This is the first book I’ve written that’s being turned into a movie and I was worried they wouldn’t respect my – I don’t know, not my vision exactly – but my work."

Who wrote the screenplay? Marc set the book on the table and pushed it across to her.

Emily Peets, she said, pushing the book back. You can keep that. I brought it for you just in case you hadn’t read it.

Wow, thanks. I haven’t read this one. You’ll have to sign it for me. Their names were called out and Marc stood up. Let me go grab those. He went over to the counter and Chelsea couldn’t help the smile that spread over her face. He may not have known who she was when they met in class but he still asked her out. Now that he knew that she was sort of in the business too things wouldn’t be quite so awkward. Here you go, Marc said, setting her drink in front of her. I come here at least twice a week and they still spell my name with a k.

One of the perks of people knowing my name is that hardly anyone misspells it anymore. Chelsea lifted her cup and took a tiny sip. I’ll make sure to spell yours right when I sign it. She watched him take a drink, slightly envious of the way he didn’t seem bothered by the blistering hot coffee. Marc was still looking at the book and she worked up her nerve. What did you mean by playing with glass?

My friend makes glass art, he said, setting aside the book. The pieces she makes are gorgeous, she’s a real artist. They have her work in actual galleries and once in a while she lets me come over to her studio and attempt to make something that doesn’t look like a preschooler made it. Marc smiled and Chelsea tried not to blush. His smile was good-natured and honest, and one she’d seen on television more times than she could count. Having it directed at her was almost more than she was able to handle, especially since she hadn’t had anything more interesting planned for the day than outlining her new idea.

I wouldn’t even know where to start, Chelsea said. You’re at least one up on me.

I’m not very good at it, Marc said with a shrug and another gulp of his coffee. I’ve made a couple of plates and this one sort of box thing that you put a candle inside. They’re kinda abstract.

I’d love to see them, Chelsea said, realizing too late that she sounded like she expected to see him again. Marc grinned at her and looked, for a moment, like he was fresh out of college when Chelsea knew for a fact he was over 40. I mean, do you have pictures? On your phone?

Nah, I just upgraded. I’d love to show them to you, though. What are you doing later?

Tonight? Chelsea nearly dropped her latte.

Yeah. I have to be at the studio in the morning but it’d be nice to talk some more. There’s a lady over there that looks like she’s about ready to drag us away from this table. He looked expectantly at her. Unless you’re busy.

No, I’m not, Chelsea said a little faster than she intended, and winced internally. There was nothing that would put him off faster than her being overeager. I mean, I have a meeting in the morning but I was just going to do some writing tonight.

I don’t want to get in the way of your work, Marc said, and Chelsea shook her head.

It’s fine, she said, hoping she hadn’t managed to talk herself out of a date with a man she had a crush on because she was acting like a teenager. It’s nothing that has to be done right away. She smiled at him.

Great! Should I pick you up or do you want to meet there?

We can meet if you don’t mind, Chelsea said, hoping he couldn’t see that her heart was suddenly racing. She hoped she wouldn’t have to think up an excuse for not wanting him to come to her place and was relieved when Marc shook his head.

Nope, I don’t mind at all. Anyplace in particular you want to go? Any specific kind of food, I mean? I don’t want to take you to some weird place where you’re allergic to everything on the menu. They got up from the table and Marc threw his empty cup in the trash.

I don’t have any allergies, Chelsea said. Are there any Greek restaurants around here? Belatedly she decided that this was a bad idea. Anything she liked eating at any Mediterranean restaurant wasn’t exactly conducive to kissing. What? Kissing? What gave you the idea he’d even want to kiss you?

How about Opah?

Just tell me how to get there, Chelsea said, stepping through the door he held for her. I’ll meet you at, what, seven? She glanced at her phone and saw that it was almost two. Is that okay?

Perfect. I’ll wait outside for you. He gave her a half-wave. See you tonight.

See you then, Chelsea