Relatively Famous

by Heather Leigh

  I hang up and stand in the hallway freaking out. He has to be here for this. I need him to keep my nerves in check.

  I dial him back. Of course it goes straight to voicemail, he called hours ago. He’s sure to be on the plane right now. Crap, I can only hope he gets here in time for me to tell him about my past and go over to Verve together. But I guess I can tell him tomorrow morning. I sigh, it’s not ideal but it can wait.

  I wonder what he wants to talk about?

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I count to ten and head toward my room to let Sasha and Michael work their magic on my too skinny, too tired face and my overgrown messy head of hair.

  By seven, I’m styled, made-up and have slipped into my gorgeous Jason Wu. I love what they’ve done. Michael gave my long auburn hair big shiny waves that he pinned to cascade over one shoulder so my exposed back would be a focal point. Sasha gave me dark smoky eyes highlighted with a tiny bit of silver. My lashes are thick and long and make my blue eyes look huge. She went for subtle blush and lipstick with just a hint of pink so I don’t look washed out.

  I look young. I look like a normal twenty-four year old going to a nightclub should look. I put in my diamond teardrop earrings and am ready to go.

  Checking myself out in the full length mirror, I’m a taken aback. I look almost exactly like my mother did when she was younger; except her hair is a rich, dark brown and I have my dad’s fuller lips and blue eyes. Are people going to see her in me and figure it out? I have to sit in front of my bedroom window to stop panicking. I don’t want to ruin my makeup by nervously sweating all night.

  It’s 8pm and four more calls to Drew have all gone straight to voicemail, indicating that his phone is still off. I groan in frustration. I have no choice but to leave and hope he meets me there. Jeff wants me to be there no later than 9pm, so I can greet people as they start to arrive. The tour for the CEO and CFO went off without a hitch, they loved everything they saw.

  Thank God for small miracles.

  They’re both going to be there tonight, so it’s important that I’m not late for the big unveiling of their flagship nightclub. Plus, I have to be there to show Adam around personally, one of the sticking points of my deal to be his “date”. I haven’t seen him since I found out that he’s super-famous or since Drew told me he thinks he’s an ass and wants to pound him into a small stain on the sidewalk, so… that won’t be awkward or anything.

  Richard helps me into the sleek black Mercedes that has been waiting out front for the last hour and a half. “You look gorgeous, Miss Allen. I hope your party is a big success. You deserve it after all of those weekends you put in at work.” Richard smiles kindly at me and I give him a hug and peck on the cheek for his thoughtfulness, careful not to mess up Sasha’s meticulous makeup.

  “I hope so too, Richard. Thank you so much.” I slide across the luxurious gray leather seat and apologize to the driver for my tardiness. He smiles and tells me it’s no problem and smoothly pulls the car out into the Saturday night traffic, heading uptown.

  We get within a half a block of the Warren and I can see the giant crowd that swells out from the sidewalk and onto the busy street. Traffic out front is snarled up from the throng of people. Spotlights have been installed to light the front of the hotel brighter than the Vegas strip. I’m too far away to see individual faces, but I can see a lot of cameras. Reporters with microphones and people waving pens and paper to get autographs of their favorite celebrities when they start arriving are crowding the red carpet, pressing against the ropes that were set up to allow guests to pass safely.

  Suppressing the panic that I feel rising up, I instruct my driver to go around to the back entrance of the hotel, where the deliveries arrive. I sent Jeff a text when we left and he should have someone at the service entrance to let me in. I wait in the car and try Drew one last time. Straight to voicemail, crap. Then I hear his sexy voice and a flood of heat shoots through me in anticipation of seeing him tonight after weeks apart, “It’s Drew, now you say something…”

  “Ummm, hey babe, I guess your flight is much later than we thought it would be. I have to go over to the hotel, so when you get in, just head on over. I won’t be able to carry my phone since I don’t want to lug a purse around all night. So ummm, find me when you get to the club or just ask an employee to get me, you’re on the list. Okay, bye.”

  I tuck my phone back into my bag. I brought my work files in case anyone had any questions about products, and I brought business cards. A few other necessities like lipstick and breath mints are tucked into the inner pocket with my wallet. I plan on stowing my messenger bag behind the bar so I can just pull it out if I need anything. I can’t exactly wear my beat up leather portfolio across my designer cocktail dress and I certainly can’t fit it all into a dainty little clutch.

  A hyperactive hotel employee with an earpiece and a clipboard eagerly greets me at the back door.

  “Hi Miss Allen! I’m Stephanie and I’m going to escort you up to Verve. Isn’t this exciting? I can’t believe some of the people who are coming tonight!”

  She is babbling incessantly about the party, and how awesome it’s going to be and how great this celebrity is and that television personality is and she can’t wait to meet them. I eventually have to just tune her out and say “Wow” or “Uh huh” whenever there’s a pause in conversation, which isn’t happening very often. Mostly, I just follow behind her and try not to break an ankle in my Jimmy Choos as she speed walks through the hotel loading dock.

  Security greets us at the elevators and Stephanie starts right in on the burly man. “Hi Alec, this is Sydney Allen, she’s on the list. She designed the club, can you believe it?”

  Alec rolls his eyes at her enthusiasm and checks his list. He allows us to get into the private elevator that goes straight to the club level at the top of the hotel. None of the other elevators will go up to the nightclub tonight, and the stairwell doors to the floor have been locked from the outside so no one can sneak in, but people can still get out if there’s an emergency.

  Nervous sweat starts to make my palms slippery, damn. I wish Drew were here to calm me down. I clench my hands into fists and stare holes into the digital sign that shows the floor numbers fly by as we’re whisked up to meet my massive anxieties face-to-face. I take a few cleansing breaths and the elevator doors open.

  Stepping out, I’m greeted by another assistant with an earpiece and a clipboard. My overexcited friend has stayed in the elevator to go back down to the lobby to greet more guests.

  “Hi Miss Allen. Jeff and the other managers are doing a final walkthrough. You should be able to meet up with them at the main bar.”

  “Thanks,” I say to her as I prepare to face my worst nightmare.

  Okay Sydney, it’s game time. You’ve managed to read up on your dad, you’re going to let someone into your life; you can face this fear too.

  I give myself my little pep talk as I stow my bag behind the bar.

  “Sydney my dear! You look gorgeous!” Ben Walton’s booming voice grabs my attention from across the room.

  I see the gray-haired CFO of the Warren Hotel Group walking toward me confidently. Behind him, Jeff Talley, Natasha Lin and the CEO Sander Yates are following slowly, chatting with each other and smiling. All of them are impeccably dressed and ready to kiss up to all of the important people that will be here tonight.

  “Mr. Walton, aren’t you dashing tonight.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, then stands back to appreciate my dress. Sixty-two year old Ben Walton has been running the Warren Hotel Group’s financial matters for the last fifteen years. Distinguished and handsome in his dark suit, he’s a very charming man. I like him a lot.

  “Beautiful dress, Sydney, just beautiful. The club looks remarkable. The work you have done here is no less than the best I’ve seen. Sander and I have been talking business; we can discuss it another time with you, but let’s just say we hope to see more of your work in Warren Hotels in the future.” He moves his han
ds in a sweeping gesture of the room to indicate how much he loves the space.

  “Thank you so much Mr. Walton, your satisfaction means the world to me.”

  “Let’s have a toast. This is a celebration isn’t it?” Sander Yates says as he motions to a bartender and in minutes we are each holding a glass flute of Veuve Clicquot. “I’d like to thank everyone for their hard work making the initial rebranding of the Warren Hotel nightclubs an astounding success. And special thanks to this young lady here for her brilliant designs, and her ‘special’ connections that have made this the most important party of the year.” He winks at me when he says special connections.

  Ewwww.

  “To Verve!” We all join in and clink glasses and sip our champagne.

  When an assistant runs over to breathlessly let us know that people are beginning to arrive, I turn my back and down my entire glass in two quick gulps. Come on liquid courage, don’t fail me now! Smoothing my hands down the front of my dress one last time, I paste on my best fake smile. It’s time to face my fears.

  An hour later I’m shocked to find myself having an enjoyable time. Leah is here, helping me navigate the who’s who since I don’t recognize ninety percent of the faces in the club. There are several older actors that I remember from my childhood, I think I’ve even met some of them way back when, but most of the guests are around my age so I wouldn’t have a clue who they are.

  Leah gets giddy over a few of the young men, which surprises me since she’s not one to be easily impressed by celebrity.

  “Oh my God Sydney, that’s Ryker Bancroft!” she shrieks in my ear.

  “Jesus Leah, don’t break my eardrum.” I look in the direction she’s indicated and see a guy that I don’t recognize. “I have no idea who that is.”

  “Ugh! It’s impossible to talk to you about some stuff. He’s the star of the Quantum Stranger Trilogy, Syd.” I give her a blank look and she puts her hands on her hips, glaring at me. “Come on! Haven’t you read those books? They’re unbelievable! And he plays the hero of the story.”

  “I’m sorry Leah, I haven’t read them.” The exasperated look on her face lets me know that she’s not happy with me.

  “Well, you’re coming with me to meet him. I’m not going by myself.” She grabs my arm and pulls me behind her, making a beeline for the attractive guy on the other side of the room.

  “Hi,” Leah says nervously. “I’m Leah and this is my friend Sydney. She designed the club, do you like it?”

  Crap, way to put the focus on me Leah.

  “Hi, I’m Ryker. Nice to meet you ladies.” He politely shakes our hands and shoves his unruly hair out of his eyes.

  Leah is super nervous around him, which is rare for her. She keeps it toned down, but I can tell she’s freaking out. I try hard to push away the memories of people acting like that around my dad, all giddy and foaming at the mouth. It was so uncomfortable, especially when women would openly proposition him right in front of me.

  “Nice work on the design,” Ryker says to me. “It’s really cool here.”

  I just nod and smile at him, grateful to have a glass of champagne to keep my hands busy so I don’t tear my hair out or slap Leah for acting like such a fangirl right now.

  He’s cute in a bad boy kind of way, and he’s very friendly with us, especially Leah. They discuss living in New York and other things. I just tune them out, too anxious about Drew to pay attention.

  “So Sydney,” Ryker takes a break from flirting with Leah to turn back to me, pulling me from my destructive thoughts. “Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like Evangeline Allen?”

  Leah’s mouth drops open. I panic and excuse myself to go get a refill on my drink. He can think I’m rude for all I care; I’m not having that conversation. She can talk to him by herself.

  By 11pm I’m starting to get really worried that Drew hasn’t shown up. I hope everything is okay with his flight. He’s late. Very, very late. I’m about to go check my phone when I feel a warm hand on my bare shoulder. “Hello Sydney.” I know that accent. Freezing, I stiffly turn around to see Adam standing behind me, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

  I have to admit, Adam looks unbelievable tonight. Gone is the hat and winter coat and scarf that hide his gorgeous face. His fitted white dress shirt clings wonderfully to his sculpted torso and his masculine jaw is covered with the appropriate amount of sexy bad-boy scruff.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mr. GQ.” I tease even though inside I’m completely falling apart, worried about Drew and about Adam’s reasons for wanting to be here with me.

  Don’t go off on him for being famous Sydney, he made this night a success for you.

  It’s not his fault I have massive issues. I take a deep breath and smile, pretending everything is just great.

  He grins at me and looks me up and down appreciatively, then leans in for the cheek kiss that everyone in Hollywood loves so much. “You look a vision tonight, Sydney. I see you went with the leather and chrome bar stools. Great choice, Sweetheart.”

  He runs his large hand across the distressed leather seat and accepts a drink from a circulating hostess taking a hearty sip. I look to Leah for help and see she’s still all wrapped up in Ryker something or other the actor-guy.

  Great friend she is.

  “Yes, thank you. They do look perfect don’t they? Great work Mr. Reynolds, you could have a future in interior design if being a world famous singer doesn’t work out.” I bat my eyelashes and pretend to be a huge fan. Time to give him the attention he wanted, “Just kidding, would you like a tour?” I smile playfully at him, nodding in the direction of the main area of the club.

  “Why yes I would like that very much. Who wouldn’t want a personal tour from the woman behind the vision?” He reaches down, grasps my hand in his, and I can feel the callouses that cover his fingers guitar player? as he tows me through the crowd.

  I’m initially uncomfortable with the personal contact, but he’s been nothing but gracious so I allow him to pull me around from one area of the club to another. We stop frequently to speak with people who either know him or want to meet him, introducing me to each one but never letting go of my hand. It’s a little possessive, but without Drew here Adam will at the very least keep any handsy men away from me.

  It takes forever to get through each space because of Adam’s celebrity status. I don’t see how my parents could deal with it, strangers constantly interrupting you, making small talk, acting like they know you and kissing up. It’s nauseating to watch, and very annoying. If this were a real date, I’d be pissed that it kept getting disrupted by random fans and other celebrities.

  Adam is just introducing me to a ‘big rap star’ that collaborated with him on his last song, when I see a tall, stunning blonde in a dark blue dress stalking toward us from across the room.

  She stops directly next to me and scowls at our intertwined hands. I drop Adam’s hand like I’ve been burned, blood rushing up to my neck and face. Adam’s rap star friend is smarter than me and excuses himself, vanishing before I can blink. I find myself alternately admiring and hating him, wishing I could do the same and just disappear.

  “Adam,” she purrs, “Introduce me to your little friend.”

  My embarrassment turns to anger as she belittles me at my own event. Bitch!

  “Sydney Allen, this is my ex-girlfriend, Kiera Radcliff. Kiera, Sydney is the one who did the interior design for Verve. She’s quite the talented one, isn’t she?” He looks at me proudly and smiles, putting his hand around my waist in a way too intimate gesture.

  What the hell, Reynolds!

  Kiera is pissed to be referred to as his ‘ex’ girlfriend and she’s clearly jealous that Adam is here with me, even though he isn’t here with me on an actual date. She doesn’t seem to know that, especially when it seems as though he’s deliberately trying to make her jealous.

  “Nice to meet you, Sydney.” She doesn’t offer to shake hands and there is no way I’m air kis
sing her.

  “You too, Kiera. So, what do you do that earned you a spot on the list tonight?” I ask, not caring what she does, but diverting her attention from me would be a good thing. And she seems like the type that loves to talk about herself.

  She’s as beautiful as any supermodel on the pages of Sports Illustrated. Her flawless skin is radiant and her blonde hair hangs in perfect beach worthy waves down her back. She’s wearing a dress that I had seen at Bergdorf’s but passed on, a double layer, one shoulder, indigo silk Donna Karan with an asymmetrical hemline. She had it tailored from its original floor length style to above the knee. It looks stunning on her tan skin. It washed me out completely.

  Kiera gasps at my question. “Don’t you know who I am?” I cringe as if she dragged her nails down a chalkboard. That sentence is one of the things I hate most about some famous people. They are so used to adoration, that their ego can’t take it when someone doesn’t recognize them.

  Adam’s fingers dig into my hip as he interrupts. “I don’t think Sydney is much into the scene, Kiera.” Hmmm, so he knows I didn’t recognize him at the café.

  He is the complete opposite of this woman, modest, shunning attention and trying to just be himself without all of the bullshit. I get the feeling he loved the fact that I treated him normally, just two people hanging out and having coffee. Why the hell was he ever with her? Well, besides the obvious jaw-dropping beauty, because frankly, her personality sucks. And frankly, I don’t appreciate being used to piss her off.

  “Well,” she huffs, “I’m an actress, obviously. I’ve been in some of the biggest movies of the last few years.” She glares at me with her piercing blue eyes. If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now. I so want to sarcastically clap my hands for her but I manage to hold it inside.

  Yay for you, you’re an actress!

  “I’m so sorry, Kiera. I don’t go to the movies. I’m sure your films are wonderful.” She narrows her gaze, trying to figure out if I’m being sincere. I’m not sure if I am or not, maybe her films are wonderful and maybe they’re total crap. What the hell do I know?