Absolutely Famous (Famous Series)

by Heather Leigh

  “Because I knew they wanted me to pretend to be with her to promote the film, Sydney!” I wince in pain at his words, even though I already know this because Kiera told me herself. “When I told them to go fuck themselves, they were not happy, and that’s putting it mildly.” I remember Drew arguing on the phone with a studio exec back in Vancouver.

  “But that doesn’t make what they did your fault, Drew.”

  “No, but I wouldn’t play along with their bullshit, and that doesn’t always sit well with some of these studio pricks. I can’t believe that they would stoop to hiring some shitty tabloid to listen in on our conversations to try and break us up.”

  “It certainly explains a lot of things. Like how they knew where we were staying, why the articles always painted it as though you and Kiera were alone when you weren’t, how all of those stills from filming were leaked …”

  “It’s fuckin bullshit Sydney!” he roars. “And that bitch, she knew about it all along.” Drew clutches his hair again and stomps around the room in frustration. Before I can react, he pulls back his arm and punches the wall, his hand smashing into it and cracking the plaster leaving a huge dent. “Goddammit!” He continues punching it again and again until there’s a gaping hole in the wall.

  “Drew, stop!”

  Holy fuck!

  He either can’t hear me or ignores me, because his fist keeps hitting the solid wall.

  I run over and grab his arm, fully aware that I shouldn’t get between Very Angry Drew and whatever he’s hitting. I just can’t stand by and watch him injure himself, even though I know his anger is justified. He stops and lets me hold his hand up to inspect it, hanging his head in defeat. I slide my fingers over his bleeding knuckles, the skin split open and his hand already swelling up to twice its normal size.

  “Let’s get some ice babe.” I lead him to the couch and have him sit down. He does what I ask without complaint, totally lost. I grab the ice bucket off of the bar and head into the kitchen, glad that the larger suites have their own ice machines. Filling it halfway, I bring it back to the living area and set it on the side table. Carefully, I pick up his hand and place it in the ice.

  Drew watches me warily, his gaze never leaving my face. I get back up and fetch the bottle of ibuprofen that I got for Allie a few weeks ago and shake a several into my hand. I bring Drew a bottle of water from the fridge, uncap it and hand him the pills. He tosses them back and takes the water from me, draining half the bottle.

  “Are you okay?” I hold his good hand as I sit on the coffee table and face him, our knees pressed together between us.

  Drew barks out a sarcastic laugh. “I’m pretty fuckin far from okay, Syd.”

  I have no idea what to do for him. Even when he’s angry, he’s always so in control and confident in a crisis. When he’s broken like this it’s impossible for me to handle.

  I pull his hand out of the ice and he cringes from pain. I gasp when I see his hand; it’s huge and purple around his middle and ring fingers. “I think it’s broken.”

  His eyes meet mine and I want to cry. The look he gives me, it’s almost lifeless. He’s overwhelmed by this situation. I lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s time for me to return the favor and be the strong one. New Sydney can do this for him. I’m tougher than I used to be, resilient; no longer the girl that hides in the corner and watches life pass by.

  I get my phone and call Steve.

  He answers on the first ring. “Miss Tannen.”

  “Hey Steve, I need you to have the car brought around front and then can you come to our suite please? And bring the other guys with you.”

  “I’ll be there in five,” he says in his sharp military tone.

  I disconnect and call Jane.

  “Sydney! Oh my God! I just found out about the studio, what’s going on?” She is freaking out, unable to hide the hysteria in her voice.

  I can only handle one person losing their shit at a time.

  I get up and walk into the bedroom so I won’t upset Drew further. He doesn’t even attempt to move. “Jane, listen. I need you to calm down and call Quentin and Rhys and get them on this immediately. Rhys can call my phone to run Drew’s official statement by me before he releases it. Tell him he can just come up with something fitting. I need Quentin to look into Drew’s contract with the studio and contact his lawyer, Sam Jennings, to discuss possible litigation against the studio, the executive behind this mess, Kiera and CelebCast.”

  I hope I got everything.

  “Where’s Drew?” she asks me nervously.

  “He … he’s not taking this well. He punched the wall of the hotel and I think he broke his hand. I’m taking him to the hospital now, but I need you to call me about everything not Drew. Can you do that?”

  “Of course Sydney. I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened.” I can hear her choking back tears.

  “I know Jane. Can you make those calls right away please?”

  “Yes right away, of course. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  “Okay Jane. Call my phone and leave a message if I don’t answer. I’m not sure if I’ll have to turn it off at the hospital. Bye.”

  “Bye Sydney.”

  I grab my purse and stuff my phone in, walking out of the bedroom just as Steve knocks on the door. I let him in and tell Drew we’re leaving. He just stares at me blankly. I kneel down in front of him, picking up his uninjured hand, “Drew, your hand is really bad. If we don’t go to the hospital it may not heal right. Come on.” I stand up and tug on his good hand.

  He rises without protest, content to let me lead for once. This situation has upset him more than I thought if he’s allowing me to take charge. I grab the ice bucket and give it to Drew so he can put his left hand back in then run my hands through his messy hair. “In case there are reporters out front,” I say to him, smiling. I notice the corner of his lip twitch just a fraction and feel infinitely better. My Drew is in there somewhere. He just needs time to sort out this betrayal.

  We pile into the elevator and head down to the lobby. When we exit the elevator, Sal is waiting for us. I overhear him speaking to Steve. “There’s a mob of people out front. Evan is waiting with the car.”

  Steve nods and we continue through the lobby and toward the front door. I ignore the stares and whispers from the other guests and employees as they watch us leave. I’m sure seeing Andrew Forrester surrounded by bodyguards with his hand in an ice bucket makes for interesting gossip, but I could give two shits right now. My only thought is getting Drew fixed up and back with me.

  I pay no attention to the mass of reporters that line the front walk, shoving against each other and shouting at us as we exit the hotel. Steve elbows his way through the over-enthusiastic throng, clearing a path for us to follow. Sal stays behind us, keeping fans and reporters from shoving. I clutch Drew to me, staring straight ahead, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. It doesn’t stop the surging horde from screaming out to us.

  “Andrew, any comment on the betrayal by your studio?”

  “Sydney, did you know Kiera was in on stealing your man?”

  “Did Kiera wear a wire to record you both?”

  “Is it true that Kiera threatened you Sydney?”

  “I love you Andrew!”

  Of course, the fans showed up too, holding signs up for Drew and a few for me to show their support. Then there are the Kiera fans, booing and hurling insults at me, telling me I ruined everything by stealing her man.

  Evan jumps out of the SUV and holds the door open for us, shoving the crowd back to make room. I push Drew forward and he climbs in the back behind Steve and I hop in after him. Sal gets in the front seat and Evan gets in the back with us. Drew and I sit in the very back row of seats in the Mercedes, ice bucket between us. Our British driver pulls away from the curb and takes us to the hospital. Drew gave Bruce time off since he didn’t really feel comfortable driving on the left side of the road and being responsible for our safety.
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  It takes about fifteen minutes to drive to the private London Orthopedic Clinic, a non-descript row house on a busy street. The driver stops in front of the door and Steve gets out and goes inside. We wait in the SUV while he checks it out.

  “You feel okay?” I ask Drew.

  “Fine,” he says calmly, not meeting my eyes. I squeeze his knee and press a kiss to his rough cheek. If anyone knew how difficult fame really was, I wonder how many people would want it. Look at what it’s done to me, to Drew, to his family. It’s nothing but a giant target on your chest for liars, thieves and whackos.

  Steve comes out of the clinic and opens the back door. “We’re good.”

  “Sal, stay with Ed,” I tell him, referring to our driver. “We’ll let you know when we’re ready to be picked up. Evan, Steve, come inside with us. We’ll probably need you to keep people away.” I climb out of the car and grab Drew’s ice bucket, tossing the contents into a drain and placing it back on the seat. Drew stares at me as if I’m crazy. “What? We’re here so we don’t need it anymore right?” Again, I notice the tiny movement in the corner of his mouth, the beginning of a smile.

  We enter the lobby of the clinic and it instantly goes from empty to crowded. With the two huge SEALS, six foot three inch Drew, and me, the tiny waiting area seems to shrink around us. Only one other person is waiting. Unfortunately, she’s fairly young, and by the way her mouth is gaping and her eyes are popping out, I’d say she recognizes Drew.

  I hustle him over to the front desk and greet the elderly man who checks people in. He hands us a clipboard with a bunch of papers to fill out and directs us to let us know when we’re done.

  “I’m sorry,” I say to the tiny man, “Is there any way we can fill these out in a more private area?”

  “Sorry luv,” he says with a heavy Scottish brogue, “Fill ‘em out here and bring ‘em back.”

  Great, this guy has no clue who Drew is and doesn’t seem to understand why we can’t sit in a waiting room with a hyperventilating fangirl.

  “We really need to be in a more private area, I’m begging you,” I whisper so Drew can’t hear me. I turn to look at Drew and see that he’s sitting with Evan, staring at the floor.

  I look back at the fan and notice that she has her cellphone out to take a picture. I spin on my heel and stalk over to her. “Hey! You can’t do that in here! It’s against the law not to mention rude.” She lowers the phone and scowls at me, but makes no more attempts at getting a picture. Hopefully, I caught her before she snapped one since I have no clue if it’s against the law or not.

  I walk back over to the man at the desk. “See? We can’t be out here, he’s pretty recognizable.” I jerk my thumb towards Drew.

  “You don’t say?” The white-haired old man.says. “Who’s that again?”

  I sigh. “Andrew Forrester, he’s an American actor.”

  I hate using his name to get what we want, it goes against everything I grew up despising, but I can’t let that girl take pictures of him like this.

  “Hmmm, let me get the nurse for ya luv.” He stands up and totters off to fetch someone for me.

  Seconds later the door bursts open and a pleasant looking middle-aged nurse in green scrubs comes out. Her eyes widen as she takes in the odd group in the lobby, then her professional demeanor takes over and she introduces herself to me. “Hello, I’m Kathryn. Come with me please.” She steps back and holds the door open as we all file through.

  “Thank you Kathryn. That girl was trying to take pictures.”

  “She was, was she?” Kathryn responds, narrowing her eyes. “Well, we don’t tolerate that kind of behavior here. Everyone deserves their privacy.” Her hostile tone suggests that she’s seen the cover stories about us.

  We’re put in a room to wait for the x-ray technician, so I fill out the paperwork the best I can. Drew can’t hold a pen right now with his writing hand all puffed out and purple.

  Moments later someone comes to get Drew and Evan goes with him while Steve and I wait behind. They come back after less than five minutes and Drew flops down into a chair and stares off into space.

  The chirping of my phone seems extra loud in the quiet room. I’m about to answer it when the doctor enters with Drew’s x-rays. I silence the ringer and stuff my phone back in my purse.

  “Well, well, well! I’m Dr. Bradford,” he says cheerfully. “Tell me what happened.”

  Our bodyguards slip out of the room and close the door.

  Drew looks embarrassed to tell the doctor about his injury. He stares at the floor and rubs the back of his neck with his good hand. “I uh, punched a wall. Several times.”

  Drew’s admission doesn’t even faze the doctor as he sticks two dark sheets up onto the lightboard and points to a spot on the x-ray. “Seems you’ve got brawler’s fracture,” he says, turning to Drew and removing his reading glasses. “You Americans call it a boxer’s fracture, I believe.”

  “Okay,” says Drew. “So what does that mean?”

  “It’s a fracture of the fourth metacarpal bone. The ring finger, but where it extends down in your hand, not up in the actual finger.”

  “So you have to cast it?” I ask the doctor.

  He smiles. “No, it’s only got a hairline fracture, see?” He puts his glasses back on and points to the broken bone. “I’ve seen guys come in with this one completely split in half. Requires surgery if that happens.” I pale at the thought of surgery, and the doctor looks back at me, smiling again. “No worries dear, this is very minor. You won’t even need a cast,” he says to Drew. “I’ll be right back.” The doctor gets up and leaves the room.

  “So that’s good, right? No cast and no surgery,” I say to Drew, taking his good hand and squeezing it.

  The doctor comes back and sits on a rolling stool, scooting it over in front of Drew. He takes his injured hand and examines it carefully, turning it over and looking at both sides. “Tell me if you can feel this.” the doctor says as he takes a paperclip and untwists it, poking it onto the end of each finger.

  “Yes, I can feel that.”

  “It’ll hurt, but I need to see if you can flex your fingers.”

  Drew hisses, but is able to move each finger.

  “Good, no nerve or tendon injuries then.” Flipping his glasses up onto his head, the doctor reaches into his pocket and straps a black splint onto Drew’s hand, restraining the two smallest fingers as Drew winces in pain.

  “There, that oughta do it. Ice it several times a day, wear this for a week, longer if it’s still painful, but no more than two weeks. You’ll need to move your hand as soon as you can to keep the muscle tone up.” He spins his chair around and pulls a prescription pad from the desk, scribbles furiously on it then tears off the top sheet and hands it to me. “Pain medication. Codeine and paracetamol, you call it Tylenol with Codeine in the US. Three days’ worth, though you probably won’t need that many, then switch to plain paracetamol or ibuprofen.” He makes a note in a manila file and shuts it, turning back to face Drew. “No more punching solid objects, yes?”

  Drew frowns, then agrees. “Right.” He stands up to shake the doctor’s hand, gripping it firmly in his right hand. “Guess it’s a good thing that I’m left-handed so I can properly thank you,” he says, allowing a small smile on his face.

  Dr. Bradford shakes Drew’s hand and slaps his shoulder. “Good thing indeed.” He turns and removes the two x-rays from the lightboard and hands them to me. “Better to just take them with you so they don’t end up on the telly,” he jokes. “I trust the staff unequivocally, but you never know.”

  “Thanks doctor.” I shake his hand and place the x-rays in my bag.

  “Well, ring me if you need anything while you’re still in town. If you’re here in two weeks, feel free to stop by and I’ll look at your hand to be sure everything’s healing properly. Just not on Tuesday or Thursday mornings,” he says. “Surgery days for me I’m afraid. Just see Becca on your way out and she’ll get you done in a jif.�
�� He picks up the chart and leaves the room.

  “Well that was quick,” I say to Drew as we head out to the checkout desk.

  Becca seems to know exactly who is coming to see her because her cheeks are flushed with excitement and her eyes are filled with what I can only describe as awe. I whisper to Steve to go out to the car with Drew and that I’ll finish up here with Evan. They leave and Becca’s expression falls as she watches Drew go.

  “I know. Disappointing, isn’t it?” I say sarcastically. Normally, I wouldn’t be rude, but I can’t give a shit right now. Becca is very unhappy with me, scowling as she finishes the paperwork. I pay the bill with my business card, sign the slip, and head out the door.

  Back at the hotel, I give Drew a couple of painkillers and after a short debate he relents and takes them. He must be hurting because he hates taking any medicine stronger than ibuprofen.

  I pull out my phone and listen to the message that Rhys left while we were at the clinic.

  Jesus, Sydney. I can’t fucking believe this. Sorry, didn’t mean to swear. Okay, shit. Oops, well, anyway. Jane told me to write up a press release for Drew and to run it by you, let me know as soon as you can if I should change anything. Here it is,

  Due to the serious legal aspects of an ongoing investigation regarding illegal listening devices in several different hotel rooms in multiple countries, Andrew Forrester and Sydney Tannen can only say how saddened they are to find that their privacy has been violated in such an egregious fashion.

  They would like to thank all of their fans and friends for their support and well wishes and will be cooperating with law enforcement to unravel this conspiracy. Due to the legalities, no further comments can be made in reference to this case by any of the parties involved. All questions should be directed to the proper authorities at the Sacramento office of the FBI, where the lead investigators are located.

  Okay, is that good for you Sydney? I hope it’s alright that I put in a word for you too. Anyway, uh, call me.

  Wow, Rhys is freaking out. He’s usually such a smooth talker; I’m not used to hearing him flustered. This has got everyone all tied up in knots. Not wanting to spend an hour on the phone, I decide to text him back that the statement he came up with is fine and he can release it as is. He texts me back almost immediately.