Relatively Famous

by Heather Leigh

  Drew is on the phone when Philippe drops me back off at the villa. As I cross the great room, I can see him sitting shirtless, on a lounger by the pool. The wall of windows is open today, and I don’t want to eavesdrop again, so I head into the master bedroom with my bags and stuff them in my suitcase.

  I’m pretty excited by the purchase I made for Drew. It’s more of a joke than a serious gift, but I hope he’ll like the black baseball cap I found in a little tourist trap that says “Good Luck Charm” across the front in green script. I know it will never replace that nasty Red Sox hat of his, but like they say it’s the thought that counts, right?

  Chapter 19

  “Sydney, we’re almost home.” Drew is softly running his hands through my hair. I open my eyes and realize that at some point I fell asleep on the plane and I’m curled up on the couch with my head in Drew’s lap. “You need to put your seatbelt on, babe.”

  Sitting up, I reach over to buckle the belt, but Drew beats me to it, wrapping it seductively around my waist and grinning as it snaps shut. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he whispers and gives me a quick kiss.

  “I can’t believe I fell asleep. How long was I out?”

  “I can believe it, we didn’t exactly do a lot of sleeping these past few days. You’ve been out about an hour.”

  My mouth drops open from his statement. I close it quickly and try to look affronted, but start giggling when he winks at me and makes a hilarious face, wagging his eyebrows in a fake suggestive way.

  Gail breezes into the cabin and makes sure we’re prepared for landing. She lets us know we’ll be on the ground in about fifteen minutes and leaves just as quickly as she came. Where does she sit?

  Looking out the windows, I see New York City below us, twinkling in the fading light as the sun sets. I love my home, it usually gives me comfort, but I’m sad to be leaving my isolation with Drew. I can be myself with him, with no pressure or worry that he’s using me. He’s fascinating and beautiful and makes me feel so safe and protected that my anxieties melt away when I’m with him. I feel actual physical pain when I think that he’ll be leaving for California in a few days.

  Drew promised me that he’ll be back several times during the six weeks that he’s gone, but I’m already so used to having him around that my life will seem so empty. He filled a void that I didn’t realize I had until I met him. After living my life alone for so long I can’t just go back to how it was before Drew. Now that I know what I’ve been missing in my life all this time, the loss of having him near me every day is crushing me. I’m afraid that my anxiety will come rushing back with a vengeance without him. Once again, I am at a total loss as to how to cope.

  The pilots land the jet so smoothly I can barely feel the wheels contact the ground. Gail comes in and holds out our coats for us, “You’re not in the Caribbean anymore; the captain says it’s only forty degrees out.”

  Drew thanks her and I slip into my jacket, pulling it up to hide my face so Drew won’t see the panic that my wayward thoughts have plagued me with. He’s so good at reading my expressions, there’s no way he’ll miss this if I can’t control my negative feelings. The cabin door opens and Bruce comes up the stairs and gets our luggage, bringing a gust of cold wind with him.

  The pilots are standing by the door with huge grins on their faces as we exit the plane, so we stop and shake their hands. “Mr. Forrester, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” They both shake Drew’s hand so enthusiastically and fawn over him that I wonder if they’re trying to suck up to him for a tip.

  You don’t tip a pilot? Right?

  I see Drew give them a threatening look out of the corner of my eye and the gushing stops immediately. What the hell? He’s probably pissed that they’re acting unprofessionally.

  “Miss.” They shake my hand with a lot more restraint, and I thank them for their hard work.

  Drew insists on bringing my suitcase upstairs when he drops me off at my place. I don’t even bother to argue, I know he won’t listen. I’ve already gotten used to his need to ‘take care’ of me all of the time. I find it charming and sweet even though I know my friend Leah, would find it bossy and oppressive.

  It was dark in the car, so Drew couldn’t see the panic in my eyes on the ride from the airport. But now inside, it’s brightly lit. I try to stare directly ahead at the elevator doors so he can’t get a good look at me. He stares at me as if his eyes were burning holes into my cheek, but I just ignore him. I know he’s getting either pissed off or worried, but I just want to get away from him without the third degree about my ‘feelings’. I don’t want him to think I’m some clingy bitch who gets all possessive after two weeks of dating.

  The doors open and I rush off of the elevator and shove my key into the lock. I dart inside and wait for him to set my bags down so I can hustle him back out. Drew being Drew, with his superhuman perceptiveness, walks down the hallway to bring my things to the bedroom. He’s refusing to acknowledge my need to get away from him.

  He leaves me no choice but to follow him to my room. I’m surprised to find him sitting on one of the chairs I have near the windows, his gorgeous face lined with stress. I walk over and sink down into the other chair, waiting for him to say something. He just watches me, reading my face with those intelligent eyes. Looking through me and trying to dig out my secrets.

  After what seems like an eternity, Drew speaks. “Sydney, are you upset with me?” He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees, catching my gaze and holding it, willing me to open up. I see a little bit of fear on his face, hiding behind the confident facade.

  “No, Drew. I’m not upset with you. I’ve had the best weekend. Really, it was wonderful. I’m…I guess I’m just nervous about work tomorrow.” I press my hands against my thighs, hoping he’ll accept my terrible lie.

  He leans back and sighs, pausing before speaking again. “One of these days Sydney, I’ll get you to trust me. If you say it’s not me, then I believe you. But I don’t like leaving here knowing that you’re upset and won’t tell me why.” Drew reaches over and grabs my hands, clutching them in his. He brings our joined hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles, holding them in place for a moment.

  He drops my hands and stands up and I follow suit, looking up at him through my wet eyes, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. “Drew. I’m sorry I can’t tell you. Please, be patient with me. I have…issues that I’m dealing with. And I am dealing with them. I don’t want you to feel like any of it is your fault. You’re perfect. This weekend was perfect.”

  I stand on my toes and tentatively kiss him. He’s unsure what’s going on so he stands there like a statue. When I slip out my tongue and run it over his lips, he puts his arms around me and kisses me fervently, as if he’s afraid this will be our last time.

  When we stop to catch our breath he leans down and presses his forehead to mine. “Whatever it is Sydney, it can’t be that bad. It won’t change how I feel about you. And hopefully, if you ever find out something about me that is unexpected or surprising, you won’t let it change your feelings for me. Call me tomorrow after you leave work.”

  He looks down at me and instead of that open and sincere look he usually has, I see is sadness. It cuts me deep to know that I’ve done this to him. “Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow.” He kisses me one last time and leaves.

  I wait to hear the door to my loft close before I change my clothes and get into bed, crying myself to sleep at my fucked-up inability to open up to him.

  ****

  “Hey, you need to leave.” I pull on my pants and turn to face the guy on my couch. “Seriously.”

  “What’s the hurry, gorgeous?” The handsome guy in my living room is still not moving to put his clothes on and leave my loft. “I’m getting ready for round two.” He smiles, his good-looking frat boy face fully confident that he’s staying. He probably never gets told no.

  “I told you when we met at the club earlier that you couldn’t stay. I
meant it. Start getting dressed.” I throw his shirt at him and he looks a little stunned.

  “You really want me to leave?” He sits up and puts on his shirt, covering his ripped twenty-one year old body. It’s a shame to cover up those abs, but I need him to go, now.

  “Yes. We had sex, that’s it. I don’t do anything else. No overnights, no conversations, no relationships. No strings, remember? And I have class early in the morning. Finals week.” I finish getting the rest of my clothes on and stand rigid, waiting for him to follow suit.

  He shrugs. “Okay, whatever you want, beautiful.” That’s the good thing about young guys in New York, they don’t expect much and don’t care if you treat them like shit. He ties his boots and stands up.

  “Hey, isn’t that Evangeline Allen?” He’s walking over to my fireplace and looking at my photos.

  Fuck!

  I never bring guys here; we always go to their place so I can leave immediately after. But he lives in Brooklyn and I live two blocks from Optic, the club where I met whoever this guy is. His place was geographically undesirable, he was hot, and I wanted to get laid. Stupid mistake.

  I snatch the photo from his hand. “No, it’s not. That’s my friend, she’s a celebrity impersonator. Please leave.” I put my hands on my hips and stare him down.

  “What did you say your name was again?” he asks, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes.

  “I didn’t, now go.” I open the front door to my loft and wait.

  “Whatever, thanks for the awesome fuck, gorgeous.” He turns and walks out and I slam the door behind him.

  Shit.

  ****

  I tap my foot as I wait in the third floor conference room of the Warren Hotel. Jeff Talley was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago and I’m becoming impatient. I woke up from another bad dream with a blinding headache. Two cups of coffee and four ibuprofen have done nothing to stop the pounding in my temples.

  That’s what you get for crying half the night, dummy.

  I chastise myself as I rub my forehead. Not only did I wake with a migraine, but the crying has erased any positive effects that the last few days of relaxation have had, so the dark circles under my eyes are back with a vengeance. I check my iPhone again, no texts, no emails, no missed calls. Jeff hasn’t even sent anyone to make sure I’m not dead.

  I wonder if I should just go up to the 53rd floor to Verve. Was I supposed to meet him there and not in this conference room? I double check the last email from him. Nope, it clearly says 9am in conference room three. I’m about to get up and start pacing the room when the door opens and Jeff comes striding into the room throwing apologies at me as he shakes my hand.

  “Sydney, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t get off the phone. It was a very important call from the U.K. In fact, it has to do with the nightclub opening so I needed to take it so I could discuss it with you afterwards. Would you like anything?”

  “I would love some water, Jeff. Thank you.” I straighten my clothes and wait for him to begin.

  He presses a button on the phone and asks for a pitcher of ice water and a carafe of coffee to be brought up to us. Jeff looks at me with a very satisfied grin on his face. He’s normally very polished and professional, but today he’s chatting with me like we’re best friends. “Sydney, when we last spoke I gave you the date for the launch party for Verve.”

  “Yes, Jeff, but…”

  Too excited to wait, he interrupts. “Well, I mentioned that the buzz around the opening has increased which is why we wanted to go ahead and schedule the party even though construction isn’t finished yet.”

  Isn’t finished? It’s barely even started. I haven’t even set foot in the space in almost a month!

  He holds up a finger to keep me from jumping in. “We have you to thank for that attention, Sydney.” Leaning forward he lowers his voice and speaks like we’re sharing a secret. “Why didn’t you ever mention that you were friends with Adam Reynolds?”

  Holy crap, the article!

  I’ve been so wrapped up in Drew that I completely forgot about that damn GQ interview.

  “Jeff, I know it seemed as though Adam and I are great friends, but really, he’s just an acquaintance.”

  Jeff smirks like he doesn’t believe me.

  I want to slap that look right off of your face buddy!

  His secretary breezes in with the drinks and leaves. Jeff pours me an ice water and I drink it gratefully, my mouth parched.

  “You don’t have to be modest that you have famous friends. Adam Reynolds had his PR guy call the other day and ask for an invite to the party. I just hung up with him to finalize the details. He specifically wants to go as your date. I think he was disappointed that you didn’t invite him personally.” He sits back smugly, convinced that he caught me lying about my relationship with Adam.

  “Th-th-that’s ridiculous!” I jump to my feet to stand behind my chair. “I’m not going to the launch party with Adam! First, I don’t attend functions that include lots of celebrities and paparazzi, ever. Second, I’m seeing someone and it certainly isn’t Adam Reynolds! And third, I don’t have his phone number so how would I even invite him?”

  I’m trying to contain my anger, but this scenario is exactly what I was talking about when I told Leah why I would never date someone like Adam. Jeff is trying to use me to get publicity for his club via Adam. And, if I showed up with him, I’d have to walk the red carpet and do interviews and pose for photos, which I refuse to do. These club openings always have in-house photographers mingling inside, snapping pictures of all of the famous people drinking and dancing and enjoying the new venue. It’s everything I’ve spent years avoiding rolled up into one giant disastrous event.

  “Sydney, he gave us publicity that we could never buy. He’s young, attractive, and an A-list celebrity. All he’s asking for is that you go to the opening of a club that you’re redesigning, and hang out with him. We can’t refuse such a simple request. Just from him hinting that he wants to come to the party in that interview has caused an explosion of requests for invites from Hollywood’s hottest and most popular young stars.

  “This launch is going to rival some of the openings of the biggest clubs in Las Vegas, and let me tell you, parties like that don’t happen here in New York. This is going to be epic, and we have Adam Reynolds to thank for that.”

  I hang my pounding head and rub my neck. I can’t think. I can’t come to terms with a middle-aged suit like Jeff Talley using the word ‘epic’. I feel dizzy and nauseous. This cannot be happening.

  “Jeff, I just can’t do that. I have a boyfriend, how would he feel if I went on a date with another man?”

  Is Drew even my boyfriend?

  “Bring him! It’s all appearances, Sydney. You don’t actually have to date Adam. Why you don’t want to I can’t figure out. According to my wife he’s ‘the hottest thing she’s ever laid eyes on’.” He makes quote signs with his fingers to emphasize his wife’s words. “You just have to hang out with him.”

  I’m not getting through to this guy. Be professional, Sydney. Don’t wreck the firm’s reputation by bitch slapping this arrogant ass. I cross my arms over my chest. “I won’t walk the red carpet, Jeff. And I won’t allow any photos of me to be published.”

  He looks downright dumbfounded. “Wait, you don’t want to go to a club opening with superstar Adam Reynolds, you don’t want your picture taken with him, you don’t want to be interviewed with him for TV….are you actually a living breathing female?” He laughs. “You’re probably the only woman in New York that would turn that down.” He rubs his fingers across his neatly bearded chin. “Okay Sydney, I accept your conditions. The hotel’s PR team controls all photos taken inside the club, you don’t have to walk the carpet and we won’t release any pictures of you or put them on the website. Just show up, make Adam Reynolds happy and I’ll be happy and my boss will be happy. You can even bring your boyfriend, deal?” He stretches his arm out across the table.

  Defe
ated, I lift my hand and shake his firmly. “Deal.”

  With all of the Hollywood party crap behind us, we head up to see the club. I’m pleasantly surprised to see that the entire space has been ripped down to the studs, electricians are setting the wiring for the new light fixtures, and a group of men is drilling holes in the subfloor to support the new bar. More comfortable with this aspect of the job than the part that just took place in the conference room, I meet up with the on-site project manager from Allen Deconstruction and we start to take inventory of the shipments.

  What the hell am I going to tell Drew?

  Chapter 20

  I call Drew from the back seat of the Warren Hotel’s private car service as the driver maneuvers down Lexington. It’ll be a good hour until I get home at this rate. I really need to relax in my jetted tub.

  “Hey babe.” Drew answers with his sexy voice. My mood lifts a little just hearing him speak to me.

  “Hey.”

  “Are you headed home?”

  “Yeah, stuck on Lexington. Traffic is pretty bad.”

  “Sydney, you sound weird, are you ok?”

  Protective Drew is coming out to play. “Ummm, I had a shitty day at work, that’s all.”

  Oh, and I have to go on a date with Adam Reynolds, who may or may not want in my pants, you don’t mind right?

  “I don’t like this. I need to see you. Can I come over?” He sounds worried.

  I have to tell him at some point about the party. Do I tell him now, or do I chicken out and tell him over the phone once he’s three-thousand miles away? My need for him wins. “Yes please. I’d like to see you.”

  “I’m at home packing for California, so just have your driver swing by and get me and I’ll ride over with you.”

  Bossy Drew taking control. I don’t mind, I’m more than happy to have him carry some of my load right now. “Okay, I’ll see you in thirty to forty-five minutes depending on traffic.” I give the driver Drew’s address and attempt to relax against the plush leather of the Mercedes.