tiger_lily_5

YEP. That's why I couldn't handle more than a few minutes at a time. I'm the first to admit that she wasn't perfect but every time I saw it, they were making her look a mess, much more so than was necessary.

I was looking at that BeBe Winans book the other day on my Kindle library but didn't get it. I really just want to read a book about her and Kevin and the good things and none of the mess! lol. Ahh, I s'pose that's why we write our own. I did read one of the bios a couple of months ago -- now don't remember which, but not that one -- and there were glaring inaccuracies in it (which even *I* noticed, and I wasn't following her career that heavily from about '96 on.) Plus it was written in almost a bitter tone in some chapters. You can't write a bio like that from an 'external' POV.

We should call DirecTV about making the Kevney channel... they have channels for everything else! lol.

ETA: I was going to tell you, GS, that you took the "sweet" route regarding the ink stain (in that it was done during a scene). Because my mind, as the apparent board perv, took it elsewhere. HA.

Anyway.

Let's get Kevin to Paris. Allons-y!

-------------------

Gun Shy, Chapter 7

Los Angeles International Airport
April 1992

With his boarding pass for the next morning in his hand, Kevin sat down in a blue vinyl chair, wondering what he was going to do for the next twenty or so hours. He definitely wasn't in the mood to take a taxi downtown to retrieve his car from the towing company, and sleeping in an airport had never been his idea of fun.

He paced around aimlessly for awhile, thinking about Whitney; wondering what she was doing during her flight. He went into a couple of shops, purchasing a small brown leather bag, a shirt, and a travel toiletry kit, slightly amused with himself for flying to Paris on a whim with no luggage. C'est la vie, he thought, one of very few phrases from his one year of high school French that had stuck with him.

Kevin stepped off the moving walkway and into a restaurant in the adjacent terminal, sitting down at a table and ordering a beer and a burger. He glanced at his watch: only 12:30. He sighed. Eighteen and a half hours to go.

Sipping his beer, he made eye contact with a young brunette in a green sundress who was eating alone at the next table. She looked to be in her early 20s. She smiled at him, and he returned the gesture, then focused in on his burger and fries.

A couple of minutes later, the girl approached him shyly.

"Hi... I'm sorry to bother you, but I like you. Your movies. I wanted to tell you." Her hands were behind her back as though she was nervous, and she spoke with a slight accent that he couldn't place.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." Normally he didn't like fan attention, but she wasn't being pushy, and he had to admit that a compliment lifted his spirits a little on a day like today.

"What's your name?" He extended his hand for a friendly shake.

"Elise." She shook his hand. Hers was cold.

"Nice to meet you, Elise. Do you want to sit down for a minute?" He moved his hand toward the empty chair, hoping that some kind of human interaction would take his mind off of Whitney and the note before he went completely insane.

"Yes." She perched tentatively on the edge of her chair, watching him take another sip of beer. "Mr. Costner?"

"Call me Kevin." He popped a fry into his mouth.

"Kevin. Where you're going? You don't have to answer."

He looked at Elise, really taking her in. She was pretty; not gorgeous, but above average for sure. A few short months ago, he'd have probably hit on her at this moment. As he finished his beer, it occurred to him just how much Whitney had changed his life.

"I'm going to Paris, but not until tomorrow morning. So I have some time to waste." He laughed at the understatement, motioning for the waiter and ordering another beer for himself and one for Elise. She looked thrilled by the gesture.

"Really? I'm going back to Paris too. That's where I'm from. I've been studying here for a year. I'm on afternoon flight. Are you working a movie there?"

"No." He looked down as the waiter set their beers down in front of them. "Your English is really good, Elise."

"Thanks. We study in school, and living here helped it. But, I'm excited to go back." She opened her beer, taking a long drink. "And thank you for the beer."

"No problem. It's a... what would you say? A 'bon voyage' gift?" His attempt at an accent was horrid.

Elise smiled. "Your French... not so good."

"No, it isn't." He laughed, running a hand idly down the condensation on his bottle.

"Why are you going to Paris?" She looked at him with an innocent expression.

He swallowed, looking at her, then away, then back at her before running a hand through his hair. He figured he might as well tell her at least part of this crazy story.

"Well, there's this woman. She's beautiful and I... like her a lot. And we were kind of seeing each other, and then we weren't, and then she got on a plane to Paris, and I tried to stop her, but I couldn't." He spoke quickly, then realized Elise may not have understood everything. But she didn't miss a beat.

"Now you fly to Paris to see her?"

"Yeah, basically." He took a swig, realizing how insane the story sounded. He couldn't have made it up if he tried.

"And, she knows you are coming?" Elise looked at him with curious eyes.

"No. She doesn't. And I'm hoping that I can even find her, by the time I get there." He looked away, the technical worries of actually going through with this crossing his mind for the first time. The waiter came back, lying the check down on the table.

"But so romantic!" Elise seemed deep in thought for a minute. "Kevin?"

"Yeah?" He pulled out his wallet, lying cash down with the check.

"Do you want to trade? You go on my flight and I'll take yours?"

His head snapped up to look at her. "Are you joking?"

"No. I haven't been home in a year... I don't think one more day is bad." She drank the last of her beer, smiling at him kindly. "I can stay tonight with friends."

"Oh, my God! I don't even know what to say. Thank you, seriously. You have no idea what this means to me." He reached out to hug her tightly, stunned that people with this much kindness still existed.

"It's no problem." She pulled back from the hug, reaching into her purse to get her paper boarding pass. "And Kevin... I hope it works out with Whitney."

"Thanks!" They exchanged tickets quickly and he stood up, pushing in his chair before Elise's words hit him. He turned back toward her, tilting his head questioningly. She grinned, standing up.

"I saw the interview last night. It was... what's the word... open? I see the way you see her. It is sweet. You would be lovely with her. And I know she's in Paris, because my parents will see her show. I'll think about you. Bonne chance, Kevin... that's good luck!" She turned away with a quick smile, not even asking for an autograph or photo.

Kevin glanced upward in disbelief. If he'd ever been in doubt that angels existed, he wasn't anymore. The next couple of hours passed by relatively quickly and before he knew it, he was in a coach seat, bound for Paris.

***************************

Whitney exited the jetway, stepping into Charles de Gaulle International. She was excited; she'd never been to France and had always wanted to go. Smiling, she stepped toward the luggage carousel, determined to make the most of this trip and put Kevin out of her mind.

She collected her baggage and reunited with her driver, giving him a quick hug before they got into a rental limo. It was around 4:00 am Paris time, and she was exhausted. There would be plenty of time to see the sights over the next two days. For now, she craved nothing but a soft hotel bed.

***************************

Gathering his jacket up into a tight ball behind his head, Kevin somehow managed to squeeze in a few hours of sleep on the plane, even though he was stuck in the middle seat. He was glad for the rest. It would be midmorning when he arrived, so there would be no time to sleep, not to mention the small details of how he was going to get around, where he was staying, his lack of extra clothing, and the fact that he spoke basically zero French. He suppressed the urge to laugh aloud when he realized the utter ridiculousness of the situation before dozing back off.

When he awoke again, they were only about fifteen minutes from landing. He pulled the paper from his pocket, stiff and smeared. The line that haunted him was still legible. Where does that leave me if I already fell? He shook his head, refolding it for about the tenth time today. He hoped she was writing from her own perspective, and not just putting something in because she thought it would make a good song. Assuming it was her own thoughts on the page, she had a lot of explaining to do.

The plane landed smoothly, and Kevin stood up as soon as it pulled into the gate. He had only the small leather case he'd purchased earlier, which he retrieved from the overhead bin, and he was the first one to exit the plane. Not having to deal with baggage claim was going to buy him a few extra minutes.

It was stuffy in the jetway, and he moved through it quickly, stepping into the busy airport. It looked different; it even smelled different here. People were talking all around him, and he didn't understand a word of it. He was a little overwhelmed for a moment as he sat down on a small stool, trying to formulate a plan of attack. He glanced at a wall clock. 9:28 am. He figured that his first task should be to find out where the concerts were being held that night and the next; she'd probably be staying near the venue.

As he stood up, a beautiful face caught his eye. It was Whitney, on a poster, wearing a long blue dress. Below the photo was the information about the shows, in French. He couldn't believe his luck. He copied it down word for word into a tiny notebook, allowing a smile to spread across his face. This was a good sign.

********************************

While Kevin was in the airport trying to locate her, Whitney was being driven down the Champs-Elysées in a gray limo. She'd only slept about five hours but it was good, restful sleep. It was a gorgeous sunny day and she pressed her nose against the glass, taking in all of the sights with a bright smile, and making a mental note to come back when she had more than two days to spend. She was already in love with the city.

Whitney had her driver pull off at a small cafe, craving coffee and a croissant. As he circled the block, she stood in line to order, not being recognized once. Yet another beautiful thing about Paris. She picked up her breakfast and got back in the limo. Removing the plastic lid from her cup to stir in some creamer, Whitney's mind took her on a quick trip back a few months.

Stumbling into his trailer still rubbing her eyes, Whitney headed for Kevin's coffeepot without a greeting. It was only day three of filming, and they were still feeling each other out.

"Well, good morning to you, too," he said sarcastically, grinning at her hateful attitude. "I already poured you some coffee, Whitney. It's there on the edge of the counter."

"Thanks, but I like it a certain way. I'll get my own." She wasn't rude, but not exactly kind, either.

"No sugar, one and a half spoons of cream." He met her gaze as she looked at him in surprise.

"How did you-- "

"You told me yesterday. Believe it or not, I do pay attention when you tell me things," he said, his hand brushing hers softly as he handed her the mug he'd prepared.

She snapped the lid back onto her cup, coming back to the present.

"No, no, no! You will not ruin this trip for me," Whitney spoke aloud, shaking her head to clear the memory.

"What's wrong, hon?" her driver asked.

"Nothing. I'm great. Just keep going." She turned her eyes to look back out the window, as springtime Paris rolled by in all of its glory.