“Probably. Listen, I gotta go Syd. We’re headed to the airport for a midnight flight. Because we lose time we land in Tokyo at 8 or 9 tomorrow night, I think. It all gets jumbled up after so many cities.”
“Okay babe, I love you.” And my heart is breaking while I’m here all alone.
“Love you too Syd. I’ll call you tomorrow, today, whatever it is when I land.”
I manage to chuckle at his confusion. “Okay. Bye.”
“Bye,” he breathes into the phone before it disconnects.
I stare at the phone in my hand. It’s almost 5 o’clock. I’ve been working all day and am suddenly anxious and jittery. I don’t want to be stuck in this room anymore. I look around and it feels as if the walls are getting closer to the desk.
I close my MacBook and run out of the office, heading straight for the master bedroom on the fourth floor. Sitting on the bed, I put my head between my legs and focus on breathing, curling my body up as small as it will go and rocking back and forth.
The tears that I held back for Drew’s sake, spill over and down my cheeks. I think I’m having a nervous breakdown, that’s the only explanation for this. The after-effects of being attacked by a madman and losing my baby slam into me like a Mack truck. All of the coping I thought I had been doing over the summer was just more denial. A refusal to think about, let alone accept what had happened.
I can’t lose it like this, alone, trapped in a house that’s not mine. I grab my phone and impulsively dial the one person I shouldn’t be calling.
“Hello. Syd?”
“Adam?” I say in between sniffles and tears.
“What’s wrong Sweetheart?” I can hear the genuine concern in his silky voice.
“I… uh, I just wanted to talk I guess.” Why am I calling him? I don’t want Leah’s sympathetic looks or sad face. I just want someone fun, someone who doesn’t know about the miscarriage.
“Well, fortunately I know how to talk.”
“This is going to sound weird, but do you have a disguise? You know, that you wear out when you don’t want anyone to know you?”
“Yes, I do actually. Why?”
“Can you meet me at Nevada Smith’s in an hour? It’s a bar near NYU.”
“Okay, and you want me to dress inconspicuously I take it?”
“Please. I’ll have mine on too. Black wig, punk outfit. See you there.” I hang up and take a deep breath. This is a bad idea, but drinking myself to death at home alone is even worse.
Feeling stable enough to get up now that I have a plan, I change my clothes, pulling on skinny jeans and a black tank top. I shove my feet into a pair of scuffed combat boots and rummage in the closet for the accessory that I need the most. After swearing for a good ten minutes, I finally find my Joan Jett wig in a duffel bag on the floor.
I open the bedroom door and call out to Steve or Evan or whoever was chosen to babysit me tonight. “Steve? Evan?”
Heavy footsteps clomp up the stairs stopping when Evan appears at the top of the landing.
“Miss Tannen?” He has a quizzical look on his face. He’s probably not used to me speaking after two and a half days of either crying or silence from me. I know my face is still red and swollen from my most recent breakdown, but that actually helps me in my mission tonight.
“Hey Evan, can you have Bruce get the car ready to go out in about thirty minutes?”
I avoid eye contact as I speak. Uncomfortable asking for this and simultaneously pissed that I even have to ask. I don’t think he’s going to like seeing me meet Adam out at a bar, but it’s really none of his business who I meet.
“Sure, should I tell him the destination?” I know he’s trying to decide if I’m stable enough to go out right now.
I press my lips together tightly. “No. I’ll let him know once we’re in the car.” I stand with my arms crossed, glaring at him full on.
I can see him deliberating his options, does he hassle me for the location or let it drop? He can’t stop me from going wherever I want to go and he knows it.
“Alright,” he says reluctantly. He turns and clomps back down the stairs to get Bruce.
I close the bedroom door and walk on legs that feel like jelly until I’m standing in front of the full length mirror in Drew’s massive bathroom. I pull my hair up into a low bun and yank the wig down onto my head. Tucking in a few stray strands of hair, I step back and assess my reflection.
The redness around my eyes has faded, but they’re still noticeably swollen. So I duck into the bathroom and put a thick layer of black kohl around my eyes.
Oh well, no one will know me so what do I care if I look like shit?
Inhaling deeply, maybe to give me courage or maybe to give me a minute to change my mind, I grab the door and twist, ducking through it and down the stairs to the garage.
Climbing into the car, I tell Bruce to go. I need to get to my destination before I start crying again. I pull the picture out of my pocket and stare at it the entire ride, brushing my thumb across the grey blob. Within a few minutes, the bar is in sight up ahead. I can almost feel the relief spreading through me at the thought of hanging out with someone who will just be uncomplicated fun. No drama, no past, no traumatic events to discuss.
I shove the photo back into my jeans and open the door to Nevada Smith’s, a loud sports bar near the NYU campus. Leah and I used to come here a lot up until a year or two ago. It’s always packed, there’s always live music, and you can sit at the bar and not be felt up by a slimy club rat. Evan trails closely behind, his observant eyes taking in everyone around us. I can feel his displeasure radiating off of his large body.
Tough shit. I don’t owe Evan an explanation.
Keeping my head down I take a seat at the long bar. It smells like spilled beer, hot wings, and fried food. I order an orange vodka and tonic. When the bartender places it in front of me, he doesn’t even give me a second glance. Evan sits at a seat around the corner of the bar. Far enough so I’m alone, but close enough to intervene if anyone starts shit with me.
Perfect.
I sit and watch the students and young professionals as they watch soccer and drink with friends. Everything I have that people think they want; money, famous parents, a famous fiancé… right now I would trade it all to be able to live like them. Free to come and go as I please, my biggest concern being my next exam or who I’ll hook up with at the Saturday night frat party.
I’m just about to pull out the photo again when someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn and burst out laughing. I see Evan getting up from his chair to defend me from my admirer.
Holding up my hand, I wave him off. “Evan, it’s fine.”
Evan hesitates, not sure if he should comply or check out the unknown man who has taken the seat next to me.
“It’s fine!” I snap at Evan so he’ll go back to his spot at the bar. I see his eyes widen in recognition as he studies Adam and he reluctantly sits back down. His penetrating gaze and perma-scowl, however, never waver.
“Damn Adam, I thought my outfit was bad. You, you look ridiculous!” I laugh.
Smiling, Adam looks me up and down; taking in the entirety of my disguise.
“Punk serves you well Sydney. You’re still as gorgeous as ever,” he says smoothly.
I roll my eyes at his complement. “I have to say, blonde most certainly does not serve you well.” Adam is wearing a shoulder length, messy blonde wig pulled back into a ponytail and thick black-framed glasses. His body is covered up with an oversized soccer jersey over a long-sleeved shirt. He looks hideous. And perfect.
“Thanks love, I think I look hot! So, what brings us to this fine establishment tonight? Not that I mind, I’ve got lovely company and I see that they’re showing the Man. U. game, so I’m happy.” He nods up at one of the television sets hanging over the bar.
Adam focuses his intense hazel eyes on mine, trying to weed out my secrets.
“I just needed a night out with someone fun, you know. Drama free. I h
ave way too much of that in my life right now.” I look away as the pints he ordered for us are placed on the bar.
I take a small sip, not sure if my stomach is capable of holding in any more alcohol tonight after the abuse it’s been through.
“So you think I’m drama-free?” He looks up at the television for a moment before dropping his gaze back on me. “Maybe you just don’t know me well enough,” he says with a wicked smirk on his face.
I gasp at his insinuation. “Are you saying that you’re looking for drama Adam?” I ask as I take another sip of my beer.
He looks away, embarrassed. “Nah, I’m more into a low profile right now. I’ll have to ratchet up the drama when my album drops so it’s good to have a little time off from all the shite, you know?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t know. The shitstorm doesn’t ever seem to leave me alone.”
He leans in close so no one else can hear our conversation. “No, no it doesn’t. It’s your fault you know.”
I back up and shoot daggers at him for suggesting that my troubles are my own doing.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist!” He laughs and holds his hands up in defense. “If you weren’t so delectably fascinating, everyone would leave you be. You’re just too gorgeous and interesting for your own good.”
I let my shoulders unclench at his explanation. “Yeah, that must be it Adam. I’m just so mesmerizing that I have no idea how the world was able to function while I was living as a nobody for all those years.” I roll my eyes at him and drink my beer.
He looks right at me, daring me to pull away. “Yes, you are that mesmerizing. The only one who doesn’t see it is you.”
Uncomfortable with the direction of our conversation, I change the subject. “Want to dance?”
We can hear the band in the back room begin to play their set. I haven’t been dancing since I left London in late June. I need to be fun and careless. Do the things that other young New Yorkers do every night instead of sitting at home worrying about stalkers and bodyguards and angry A-list actors.
“My pleasure.” Adam stands up and offers me his hand, leading me into the back room of the bar where the stage and dance floor are. Out of the corner of my eye I see Evan follow us, frowning.
Whatever, he can just watch me have fun. I don’t give a shit tonight.
Adam leads me to an area in the middle of the floor and we start to dance. I should have known that with his singing and guitar playing abilities combined with his hot body, he’d be good. Actually, good doesn’t describe how he moves. He is like pure sex when he turns to me and works the music.
Holy shit!
I let go of my worries, not caring that it’s Adam and I’m not supposed to be here with him. I forget about the baby, about Drew’s secrets, about the media and the upcoming trials. For now, it’s just me and Adam, uncomplicated and fun.
I smile up at him and he pulls me close, wedging one leg between mine as we move together to the fast beat. It feels like it used to when I would go clubbing with Leah, meeting hot guys and torturing them with our bodies. He makes it easy to overlook his hideous disguise with the seductive way he rubs against me; not overtly sexual, but not exactly friendly either.
We dance until the band finishes its set, both of us exhausted and sweaty. Adam takes my hand and leads us back to the bar.
“Well, that was… interesting,” Adam says as he orders us each another beer. He grabs the bottom of his shirt and uses it to wipe his face.
My mouth drops when I get a look at his bare skin. His abdomen is just as toned as I expected, and unexpectedly, the tribal tattoo on his arm continues over half of his torso. But it’s the large white scar on one side of his midsection that shocks me.
Not wanting to throw a shadow over our evening, I drink from the bottle that he hands me, saying nothing about the sexual tension that was between us on the dance floor or about the obvious damage to his beautiful skin.
I catch Evan staring at me, giving me a death glare. Adam notices my distraction and looks over at the huge bodyguard.
“Being babysat again?” he asks playfully. “Is it because your boyfriend doesn’t trust you?”
I roll my eyes at Adam’s assumption. “No Adam. It’s because I’ve been assaulted, threatened, and stalked. That’s why.”
He nods in understanding and turns his back to Evan, leaning against the bar casually. “Does the big guy report everything you do back to him?”
I sigh, more out of frustration than anger. “It’s really none of your business Adam, but no, I don’t think they do. Not everything anyway.”
He smiles. A big, genuine, Adam Reynolds smile. Which would be hot as fuck were it not for the ridiculous wig and glasses. I’m sure I look just as bad, my eye makeup melting off of my face and my head dripping sweat from the suffocating black wig.
I put my hand on his arm and squeeze, “I should go, but thanks for coming out with me. You have no idea how much I needed this.”
Adam shifts a fraction closer, putting his hand loosely on my waist and leaning down to speak in my ear. “Anytime Sweetheart, anytime. You haven’t seemed yourself lately and I think I needed it too, so we’re good.”
I motion to Evan who is immediately at my side, shooting a look at Adam as if he were a hardened criminal. I shake my head as the three of us walk out of the bar in an uncomfortable silence.
“So, I’ll call you tomorrow. I have some designs done for you to approve.” I shift awkwardly as Bruce pulls up and Evan waits impatiently for me to get into the SUV.
Adam is completely unfazed by my bodyguard’s rude behavior. “No worries, bye Sydney.” He gives me his dazzling rock star smile as he jumps into a cab.
I feel relaxed and worry-free, until I see Evan’s tightly clenched shoulders and wonder what he’s going to tell Drew.
CHAPTER 25
The piercing noise is going to split my skull in half. It’s relentless, shrieking over and over again.
I crack my eyes open and instantly regret it. I forgot to close the curtains in Drew’s bedroom last night, or maybe early this morning, when I got back from the bar. The bright sunlight makes my eyes burn and my head throb. I squeeze them shut again.
I vaguely recall a furious Evan stomping up the stairs and into his room last night. How unprofessional! He shouldn’t care what I’m doing or who I’m with. His only job is to keep me safe, not to worry about my social life.
The phone continues ringing, reminding me that I had a few drinks and danced all night without rehydrating.
Fuck!
I reach toward the noise, pawing at the bedspread to find my phone, its shrill ring starting for a fourth time. Not finding it, I attempt to sit up and instantly regret it as the room spins around me.
How many drinks did I have? More than I thought apparently.
The ring starts for a fifth time and I realize that my phone is in the pocket of my jeans, the ones that I’m still wearing.
I dig it out and answer the call, lying back on the bed and covering my eyes with my arm.
“Hello,” I rasp, my throat feeling like a blowtorch ignited inside it.
“Holy shit, Sydney! Where the hell have you been?” Drew yells.
“Babe, please. It’s too early for this,” I complain.
“Sydney, I’m in Tokyo and I know for a fact that it’s twelve hours ahead of New York. It’s midnight here so that means it’s noon.” He’s silent for a moment. “Did you just wake up?”
He sounds horrified.
“No, I took a nap.” Another lie. They seem to be coming easier. “I was confused when I woke up. I thought it was morning.”
“I can’t take this Sydney,” Drew growls into the phone. “Something is going on and you won’t tell me!”
I clutch my head with my free hand and sit up, ignoring the dizziness that floods my head.
“Like you have room to talk!” I yell. “You hide shit from me too! Like that phone call and your night out with Rhys!” I cho
ke on my words as the emotions I’ve been trying to keep in spill over. “So screw you Forrester! You have no right to judge me!”
“Sydney,” he says in a more calm tone, “I love you. Tell me baby, what’s going on with you?”
I can hear the heartbreak in his voice. He’s freaking the fuck out. He knows I’m losing it and he’s six-thousand miles away, unable to do anything. Having me shut him out is the worst thing I can do to him right now, but I can’t discuss it. I can’t ruin the rest of the press tour. He only has one more city before he gets back.
“Drew, finish your tour. We’ll talk when you get back, please.” I silently beg him to accept my plea, knowing that he’ll ignore me and do what he feels is best for me.
“Syd,” his voice cracks on my name. “I can’t leave it. I can’t.”
I need to get off of the phone with him. He has to focus. “I… I have to go babe.”
“Don’t…”
I power off the phone and clutch it to my chest, letting the misery take over as I sit on Drew’s giant bed.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt this alone.
After a few hours and a hot shower, I feel human enough to call Adam up to discuss some of my ideas.
He answers on the first ring. “Sydney! You said you’d ring me but for some reason I didn’t believe you actually would.” His lyrical accent makes his words sound like a song.
“I have a few ideas that I need you to look at before I can go any further. I didn’t know if you were available later today.”
“Two dates in two days, I’m flattered,” he laughs. “I’m at the studio right now, but I can meet up with you after. Maybe dinner?”
Dinner … with Adam Reynolds. Not a good idea Sydney, but I can’t go any further until he approves my designs and I want this part over with before Drew gets home.
“We can’t go out together Adam, it’s not a date and I won’t be photographed like that.” My scratchy voice is waking up some and becoming more human-sounding.
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