Extremely Famous

by Heather Leigh

  “No worries Sydney, my friend from secondary school owns a restaurant in Midtown. We can meet there and eat in private.”

  “No one else in the restaurant will see us?” I don’t want to wear my hideous wig again, especially after sweating in it last night.

  “It’s a private room. Fuck, am I that embarrassing to be seen with?” I know he’s joking, but he is well aware of the reasons why I don’t want to be seen out with him.

  “Adam…” I warn. I pause to think, listening to the sounds of his band in the studio while I decide. “Fine. But it’s a working dinner, okay?”

  “Brill Syd, just brill. I’ll ring my mate now and text you the time and address.”

  “Okay Adam, bye.”

  “Right, see you there.” I hear the phone disconnect.

  I sigh and stretch my tight neck muscles. How come most of my biggest errors in judgment involve Adam Reynolds? I pray that this doesn’t blow up in my face and head into Drew’s office to get my presentation ready for tonight.

  A few hours later and I’m fidgeting in the back of the Mercedes SUV as Bruce drives me uptown to meet Adam. His friend’s restaurant is called Dirty Bird, and has critically acclaimed Anglo-Indian fusion menu. I’ve never eaten there before, but the food is supposed to be sublime.

  Why I’m nervous, I have no idea. I’ve sat across a table from Adam dozens of times while I’ve worked. He rubbed his body all over mine last night on the dance floor for Christ’s sake! This shouldn’t be any different. It is though, because I’m lying to Drew repeatedly in order to do this. Guilt wracks my body, causing my hands to shake.

  The SUV glides to a stop next to a brick-front building with a small black awning. Dirty Bird is scrawled across it in white lettering. The night is warm for September, so there’s a substantial crowd out front waiting for tables.

  Good thing Adam and I are arriving separately.

  I smooth down my loose, wavy hair and take a deep breath. I went business casual tonight, not wanting to give anyone the wrong impression about our dinner. I’m wearing skinny black Nina Ricci trousers and a gray silk tank with black stiletto Mary Janes.

  Steve opens my door and helps me onto the sidewalk. Heads in the crowd turn and I hear my name being spoken by some of the bystanders. Looking down, I dash into the restaurant before anyone has time to pull out their phones.

  Inside, the willowy brunette hostess greets me with a fake smile. I don’t miss her scrutinizing gaze as it flicks over my appearance in disapproval.

  What the fuck? Rude much?

  “Welcome to Dirty Bird,” she says in a clipped London accent.

  “Hi, I’m meeting someone,” I say politely, hiking my bag up onto my shoulder. I’m not going to act like a bitch just because she is.

  Her mouth twists into a grimace for just a second, then her big phony smile returns. “Yes, Mr. Reynolds is already here. I’ll show you to your table,” she says in a snotty voice.

  Who is this chick? And why is she so hostile?

  I follow her through the crowded dining room, ducking my head to avoid the stares. I can feel Steve right behind me as we weave through the tables to a small room near the kitchen.

  Adam is looking at his phone when we enter the private dining room. He promptly puts it away and stands to greet me as I near the table. Steve stays just outside the door, allowing me very rare and very welcome discretion.

  “Sydney, you look lovely. Much better than last night,” Adam says as he gives me a quick hug.

  I hear the hostess gasp when Adam mentions us being together last night.

  Adam graciously pulls out my chair and waits for me to sit. He returns to his seat and I catch the hostess ogling him as he circles the table. Now her bitchiness makes sense. She’s hot for Adam and is jealous of me. How unprofessional of her.

  “If you need anything else, your server is Victor and he’ll be by in a moment.” The hostess makes a face that looks as if she ate something bitter and stalks off in a cloud of fury.

  I shake off her rudeness and focus on the meeting. “Hello Adam. This is a great place.”

  I look around at the intimate room. The table would only hold six people at the most. The lighting is soft and warm and there’s a window on one wall that lets us see into the busy kitchen.

  “Yes, it’s Prescott’s idea of a chef’s table. You can watch the action, but aren’t subject to their loud and sometimes vulgar conversations.” He smiles as he says this, and I realize that he looks extra-attractive tonight.

  Adam is wearing skinny black jeans and a white T-shirt with a gray vest over the top, his black tattoo on full display. His almost black hair is hanging over his forehead, a piece teasingly brushing across his brow. He’s unshaven as well, having let his dark stubble grow in to cover his handsome jaw.

  “Prescott?” I ask. “I would have assumed he was Indian.”

  “Yes, well he is. Half Indian, half Anglo. His surname is Sharma,” Adam says, grinning.

  “Prescott Sharma?” I scoff. “That’s definitely… fusion.”

  Adam laughs and I join him. I actually feel happy. It’s as though we’re still sitting in the café, me blissfully unaware of Adam’s fame as we chat. I’m thankful for this reprieve from my misery, even if it’s only for a few more hours. He always knows how to help me relax.

  Our server comes in with two pint glasses of beer. I raise my eyebrows at Adam as mine is placed in front of me. I hadn’t planned on drinking alcohol tonight. I’ve had too much lately.

  “I ordered you a drink,” he says sheepishly. “But trust me, it’s brill. You can’t eat here and not have a pint.”

  I take a sip and taste the cool liquid as it floods my mouth. It reminds me of the beer we drank in London this summer, better than the domestic ones we had last night.

  “It’s good. Thank you.”

  Victor efficiently reads us the specials and takes our orders. Adam gets the curried mutton and I get the chicken and vegetable hotchpotch. I’m not too sure about the food, but Adam assures me that everything on the menu is excellent.

  While we drink our beer, I get out my computer and scroll through the digital slides that I put together for each room. He loves everything I did and adds quite a few ideas of his own to each design. By the time we’re done with our brainstorming, our food has arrived. Adam’s right, it’s delicious.

  “You always did have an eye for design,” I tell Adam, narrowing my eyes at him. “How come you aren’t just doing the rooms yourself?” I ask.

  Adam looks surprised at my question. “I’m not a designer, Sydney. I might have some sense of what I like and don’t like, but I wouldn’t have the faintest clue as to what to do first. Plus, I haven’t the time lately. My solo album drops in a month, then a tour after the first of the year. That doesn’t even include the time I’m spending with the band recording the soundtrack for Ryker’s movie, plus I really need to get home at some point,” he explains, sounding wistful at his upcoming full schedule.

  Damn, he’s busy. “That’s true.”

  He stares at me, trying to figure out where I’m going with my thoughts. “You still think I did all of this to get into your knickers, don’t you?”

  I can’t help it. I burst out laughing at his use of the word ‘knickers’. “Oh my God,” I say when I finally catch my breath. “I don’t know Adam, it’s all too convenient. Don’t you think?”

  “Actually, if I wanted to be with you, I would find it decidedly inconvenient, seeing as you’re not available and all.”

  I blush at his description of my relationship status.

  “Can I ask you something?” I say to Adam, looking up through my eyelashes.

  “Only if I get an answer in return.” He stares back at me, the atmosphere in the room suddenly serious.

  “Alright, you can ask your question, but I’m pretty private,” I tell him. “You may not get the answer that you want.”

  I can’t bring myself to trick him into telling me what I want to
know with a promise of returning the favor. I may not want to discuss whatever it is he wants to ask, so I need to be honest with him.

  “Fair enough, what’s your question?” He leans forward, making the small space seem even more intimate.

  “Ummm…” His proximity catches me off guard. I can smell his aftershave, mixed in with something else. It’s probably just him. He smells mouthwateringly good.

  Shaking off my errant thoughts, I focus on my question. “Why do you and Drew hate each other so much? It doesn’t seem as though it’s just about Kiera. It feels like it goes back further than that.”

  Adam shifts in his chair and leans away from me, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. I can tell he doesn’t want to answer my question.

  “If you don’t want to tell me, I understand.” I want to know, but now I feel guilty about unnerving him.

  “No, it’s not that Sydney. I just… I don’t want to speak ill of your boyfriend in front of you.” He slouches in his chair and won’t look me in my eyes.

  “Oh.”

  What could be so bad that he won’t say to me? Drew won’t tell me either, and he probably wouldn’t hesitate to throw Adam under the bus if it was Adam’s fault.

  “Well, I appreciate your discretion Adam.” I don’t want to push him into telling me something I won’t like so I decide to let it drop. For now.

  “Can I still ask mine?” Adam fixes his intense hazel eyes back on mine, drawing me in without any effort.

  “Sure, but like I said, I’m extremely private and don’t like discussing myself.”

  He smirks, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve noticed. I think the fact that I had no bloody clue who you were and you never said a word to me sums it up nicely.”

  I cross my arms and smirk right back at him. “You never told me who you were either, Adam.”

  “Right, I forgot. The only female I’ve ever encountered who didn’t recognize me. It was fucking brilliant!” He gives me a blinding smile, all perfect white teeth and shining eyes.

  “Yes, well, I couldn’t let you get a big head thinking you were all that. Someone had to crush that massive ego you have,” I say with a chuckle.

  “Well, you’re not the first one to crush it, Sydney,” he whispers, more to himself than to me.

  My heart stops momentarily, then restarts at a rapid pace. “What do you mean by that?” I ask cautiously, not sure if I really want to know the answer.

  Adam waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it Sweetheart, it’s nothing.” He’s attempting to brush it off but I saw the fleeting look of hurt in his eyes. Maybe Drew was right and Adam did want to date me.

  I decide it’s better not to pursue this subject with Adam. I don’t want to know, and I don’t want it to be awkward to work with him.

  “So, my question,” he says.

  “You didn’t ask me yet, I forgot.” I shift uneasily in my chair.

  “Are you alright?” His gaze penetrates mine and my heart drops into my shoes. Either Drew isn’t the only observant person I know or I’m projecting my pain visibly.

  I pale under his scrutiny. “I’m fine,” I say in a quiet voice.

  “I’m not trying to push you Sydney, but I know a lot has happened to you and you seem… I don’t know, really sad lately.”

  I fidget with my water glass and look anywhere but at him. I don’t want to discuss it, but maybe I would feel better if someone knew what I was going through. Adam would understand. He’s been through a lot of shit too, with the whole Kiera situation. He made that clear when he followed me to my loft last month.

  “I’m coping. As best I can, I guess.” I flick my eyes up to his and see nothing but compassion behind his kind façade.

  “It doesn’t seem like you are.” Adam gets up and comes around to my side of the table, squatting down next to my chair so we’re face to face. Closer than he’s ever been, I notice a small white scar on the edge of his lower lip, so faint it’s hardly visible.

  He reaches over and takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “The spotlight is a bitch Sydney. I know that, I’m sure you know that damn well now too. It can be…” he looks around the room as if searching for the perfect word. “Suffocating.”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “It is.”

  “Don’t give up your life for it. You’re strong; you’ve overcome a lot to get here. It’s not worth it to let those bastards destroy you.” Adam looks just as tormented as me, as if he’s speaking for himself as well as for my sake.

  “What if it’s not someone that’s destroying you? What if it’s your own memories?” My voice is hoarse from unshed tears.

  Shit! I don’t want Adam to see me crying.

  “Then you need to be stronger than the past. Embrace it as something that happened. You can’t change it, you can only move on from it. I would know,” he murmurs softly.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and a single tear escapes, streaking unevenly down my cheek.

  “Don’t cry Love,” Adam says softly. I feel his warm hand caress my face, wiping away the salty trail.

  I open my eyes and find him right in front of me, looking at me intently. It takes me a minute, but when I see his gaze flick to my mouth and back up to my eyes, I realize that he’s looking at me with sad longing. Before I can register what’s happening, he leans in and kisses me.

  His mouth is warm and comforting and safe and for a moment, I forget where I am and kiss him back. Fuck! I’m vulnerable and crying and I can’t be here like this, especially not with our lips pressed together.

  I bolt up from my chair, yanking my hand out from under his.

  “I-I’m sorry, I have to g-go,” I stammer as I stuff my computer into my messenger bag.

  “Sydney, I didn’t mean anything. You don’t have to leave,” Adam pleads with me. “It’s not you. It’s someone else…”

  “I can’t stay Adam. I’ll work on the ideas you gave me.” I refuse to look at him. I can’t take any more pain or complications.

  He grabs my arms and holds me still. “Look at me.” I can’t, I can’t take it. “Sydney please!”

  Shaking, I slowly look up at Adam through my wet lashes. I’m weak. If I were strong, I would stare him down defiantly, challenging him to an argument about what he did. Slap his face, pound on his chest, yell at him, do something… anything.

  He looks terrified. It’s startling to see. Adam is always fun and happy. He’s not emotional or complicated. This is a side of Adam I’ve never seen before. Maybe he just hides his pain better than me.

  “I’m sorry. It was just the moment Sydney, trying to comfort you. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he says firmly, refusing to let me go. “It’s, it’s all me, Syd. Some shite I’ve been dealing with back home…”

  “I understand Adam.” I shift uncomfortably, “Please let me leave now.” My heart is hammering in my chest and I can hear my pulse rushing behind my ears.

  His hands loosen and I bolt for the door. I don’t turn back as I speak. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll call you when I’ve finished the designs.”

  I hear Adam curse in frustration as I hurry from the room and make my way out front. Steve, having noticed my rushed departure is close behind me. We exit the restaurant and the SUV is nowhere in sight.

  I turn to Steve in a panic. “Where’s Bruce?”

  I need to get out of here. I see a few people on the sidewalk. They’ve noticed me and are whispering to one another.

  Anxiety threatens to overwhelm me. I’m stuck on a sidewalk in New York, about to have a nervous fucking breakdown over Adam fucking Reynolds and I can’t get away.

  “I called him. He’ll be here in a second. You didn’t tell me you were leaving,” Steve says patiently.

  “Shit!” I curse to myself. My whole body starts shaking from the adrenaline rush that accompanies a panic attack.

  Just as I think I’ll have to sit on the sidewalk and put my head between my knees, the large black SUV pulls up to the curb. Stev
e grabs my bag, puts his arm around my waist, and hauls me up into the back seat. He sits next to me and pulls the door shut.

  “Go,” he says to Bruce.

  In a very un-Steve like manner, he wraps his massive arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his chest as I break down. He doesn’t say a word as my tears ruin his shirt. He just lets me cry, seeming to know that what I need is for another human being to hold me.

  We get back to the brownstone and Steve carries me all the way up to the master bedroom and lays me gently on the bed.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” he says quietly. I hear the door close behind him and once again, I’m completely alone.

  CHAPTER 26

  I wake up early, the icy fingers of fear sliding down my spine. Someone is watching me. I shoot up from the bed, clutching the covers around me. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but I see a figure sitting on the couch across the room. Before I can scream, I realize that the shadowy figure is Drew.

  “Drew?” I ask cautiously.

  He looks up from where his head was hanging down, his elbows on his knees, and focuses on me.

  Something is very wrong.

  “You weren’t supposed to be home for a few more days,” I say quietly. Why isn’t he happy to see me?

  “A lot of shit is going on Sydney. I felt that it was best for me to come back now.” This is bad, his voice is rough and uneven. He won’t come over to me even though we’ve been apart for a week.

  “Are you drunk?”

  He barks out a laugh. “Not nearly enough.”

  I get out of bed and slowly walk over to the couch, sitting on the other end and folding my legs underneath my body. “I missed you. So much.” As much as I don’t want to break down right now, I start sobbing hysterically.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, Sydney? Drinking at all hours, crying in your room for days, meeting that motherfucker Adam Reynolds at a bar?” Hostility radiates visibly from him, his shoulders are tight and his eyes are flashing.

  I should have known that Evan was worried enough to tell on me. I’m too upset to be mad at anyone but myself.