Relatively Famous

by Heather Leigh

  “The baby?” I cry softly.

  I hear Drew crying with me and I know. Our baby is gone.

  Chapter 42

  “Miss Tannen? Is it okay if I come in and ask you about the assault?” A tall, middle-aged man in gray slacks and a dress shirt with a badge on his belt knocks on the door of my hospital suite and tentatively enters the room.

  Drew jumps up from the couch and dashes over to the door. “Do we have to do this now?” he barks at the detective. The officer flinches back at the unexpected hostility of Very Angry Andrew Forrester getting in his face.

  “Drew, let the man in,” I say from the bed, my voice hoarse from all of the crying. I know I’m going to have to do this eventually. I just want to get it all over with so I can mourn my loss in peace.

  “Sydney …” Drew begins. His overprotective nature has been in thermo-nuclear overdrive since the attack.

  “Please? I just want to get past this,” I beg. Drew backs off of the detective just enough to turn his head in my direction. “Please?” I repeat, my eyes filling with tears.

  Drew’s shoulders drop and his jaw clenches shut. “Fine.” He turns back to the officer. “Come in then,” he says rudely, refusing to move so the graceful older man has to walk around him.

  “I’ll leave my partner outside if that will make you more comfortable,” he says to me, choosing to ignore Drew since he figures, correctly, that he won’t do much more than yell. “I’m Detective Henry Keating, my partner Detective Paul Black is out in the hall. We’ve been assigned to your case.” He takes a chair from the side of the room and pulls it over next to the bed to sit.

  I struggle to sit up a little so I can see him better, wincing in pain from the knife wound. “Jesus, Sydney. Just stay still. You don’t have to move around to talk.” Drew is still so upset by the situation that he pretty much snaps at everyone and everything, even me sometimes. He leans in and helps me adjust the pillows.

  “Thanks,” I say kindly, refusing to be as outwardly angry as Drew, even though inside I’m falling apart.

  “So,” begins Detective Keating, pulling a small notebook out and reading from it. “The man who attacked you is Peter Stubbins. He’s the same man who broke into your bedroom twelve years ago and was arrested, then tried to break in again the following week.” I begin to feel lightheaded as he speaks.

  “What?” yells Drew. “The same man from twelve years ago?” Drew’s body is rigid and he’s gripping the side of my bed so hard I can see his knuckles turning white. I notice bruises on his hands but the detective answers before I can ask about them.

  “Yes, the same man. Like I said, his name is Peter Stubbins. He’s evidently been obsessed with you for a very long time Miss Tannen. He has a wall in his apartment full of cutouts and photos of you from magazines, some new and some very old. It appears that he personally took a lot of photos of you as a child.” Detective Keating gives me a sympathetic look.

  “He was able to get close enough to her to take photographs of her, broke into her bedroom and assaulted her and was still out on the streets? He nearly killed her!” Drew roars across my bed at the detective. I shrink back at his hostility, cringing into my pillow.

  “Mr. Forrester, you need to stay calm. Yelling won’t help, and it seems as though you’re frightening Miss Tannen,” the investigator says to Drew.

  “Calm? You want me to be calm? I’m feeling the exact fuckin’ opposite of calm right now! In fact, why don’t we go outside …”

  “Drew,” I wearily put my hand on his before he does something that gets him arrested. Like punch the crap out of the detective assigned to help us. “You have to let the man talk” He swings his hardened stare over to me and his eyes soften. “Please, baby. I know this is hard. It wasn’t your fault.” Drew’s tired eyes widen and I see them glisten with guilt.

  His mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, then closes as if he changed his mind. With a tight scowl he answers, “Alright, Sydney.” He drops onto the couch, then looks back up at the detective. “Don’t upset her.”

  Detective Keating continues where he left off. “There were no photos of you from after you left Los Angeles. He lost track of you when you disappeared. The only recent pictures he has are from magazines printed in the last week since the interview on Late Night Report aired.” He looks back down at his notebook. “Stubbins lives near the theater where the attack occurred. It’s our belief that he saw the reports either on the news or internet that you were there, and immediately drove over to find you. There are no cameras in the theater, we’re still interviewing witnesses to piece together the rest.” He folds up his notebook and tucks it into his shirt pocket.

  “So, Miss Tannen, what happened in the theater? In your words.” He sits back in the chair and waits for me.

  “I … I went to the bathroom. I wasn’t feeling good.” My voice cracks, the baby. “W-when I came out …” I swallow and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stop the tears. “He was in front of me. He … he told me he loves me.” I choke and the tears break free, running down my cheeks in tiny rivers.

  “He said what?” Drew whispers, his face now a dark shade of purple.

  “Mr. Forrester, please. Let her speak,” Detective Keating pleads with Drew.

  Drew’s big hands clench and unclench and he gets up to pace the room. I notice again that his knuckles looked scarred, bruised. He’s been hitting someone or something. A lot.

  I refocus and keep talking. “He grabbed me and slid the knife in. It was cold.” I shiver from the memory. “He … he held me to him as I fell.” My shoulders shake from emotion, “That’s all I remember.”

  Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I look at Drew. He’s walking the room again, his hands clasped on top of his head, a ticking time bomb of violence. He wants to hit something, badly. I’ve seen my dad do the same thing when he’s about to lose control.

  “Babe,” I call to him. His head whirls around. “Can you get me a Sprite or something?”

  Drew’s face relaxes into a fake smile. “Sure Sydney. I’ll be right back.” He stalks out of the room in a cloud of fury.

  I turn to the detective. “I’m sorry for his behavior detective. This is very hard for him.”

  Detective Keating pats my shoulder softly. “It’s okay. He’s not the first angry family member I’ve ever dealt with. He’s not even the angriest.” He gives me a weak smile. “We have to speak to Mr. Forrester; I’ll do that in the other room if you like. So you can rest.”

  “Sure, detective. It’s better that I don’t hear his version of events right now. I can’t handle much more stress,” I admit.

  “Leave the stress to me, Miss Tannen. Mr. Stubbins is in custody at the Los Angeles County Jail without bail. He’ll get way longer than the two years he served for breaking into your home when you were a child.”

  Drew comes back into the room with my drink. The detective asks him to step into the spare bedroom and they close the door.

  I can hear Drew yelling from my bed, even when I try to drown him out with the TV. My poor, tortured protector. He couldn’t save me from an obsessed man, he couldn’t save our baby, he feels completely out of control. I hear him say that he thought I was dead, and I start to cry again. Somehow, all of the crying combined with the pain medicine wears me out, and I’m able to sleep.

  Later in the day, Drew is on the phone with the chief of police of Los Angeles, and the presidents of both the movie theater chain and the studio that produced his film; screaming at all of them for their failure to keep the city safe and the building secure. He thinks he’s doing this all out of earshot in the other bedroom of the hospital suite so I won’t have to worry, but once again, he doesn’t realize how far his voice travels when he’s pissed off. I’m sure that everyone at the nurses’ station can hear him in agonizing detail.

  During one call, an attendant was cleaning the suite and Drew’s earsplitting anger was suddenly coming from the other side of the closed door. The poor wo
man was so scared she dropped her supplies and took off.

  I told the doctors that I was already bleeding before I was stabbed, and the surgeon confirmed that the knife didn’t hit anything vital to the survival of the baby, but Drew still feels responsible for what happened. I’ve told him it’s not his fault. It’s my fault for ignoring all of the signs. The obstetrician that examined me said the fetus most likely had something wrong with it and wouldn’t have survived anyway. That doesn’t make either of us feel any better.

  Thank God the press doesn’t know I was pregnant or that I miscarried. I couldn’t take it if I had to see the pity in everyone’s faces or discuss it with anyone besides Drew and Leah.

  As far as the world is concerned, the obsessed stalker that had been arrested for breaking into my parents’ home and threatening me as a child was the same one apprehended at the theater for stabbing me. He nicked my liver and some surrounding tissue was torn but the knife narrowly missed my diaphragm and lung. My wounds were repaired surgically and I was released three days later with no lasting injuries. That’s the official story that Rhys released to the press.

  Drew’s family came to the hospital to visit me while I was still unconscious. He told them they could catch their flights home to the East Coast as planned. My sweet defender didn’t want them to see me after I woke up and was told that the baby was gone. They didn’t know about the pregnancy and he wants to keep it that way.

  My mom and Leah flew out to stay with Drew at the Sunset Marquis. They didn’t want him to be alone, and Drew didn’t want any of his other friends to know anything more than what the media was reporting. Of course, he slept on the couch in my fancy hospital room every night, so they ended up in the huge villa by themselves.

  “Hey mom. You just missed Leah,” I say when she comes into the hospital room after the doctor leaves.

  “Hi baby.” She sits next to my bed and clutches my hand in hers. I can see my mom’s eyes glistening with tears. I had told her about the baby the night we were on the Late Night Report together. She’s devastated over the loss I’ve suffered. “Where’s Drew?” she asks, noticing that he’s not in the adjoining bedroom.

  “I made him go back to the hotel for a workout, mom. The anger radiating from him is causing me to feel worse. I didn’t tell him that though, I just told him he needed a break.”

  She smiles. “Your father was exactly like that. I always loved that about him, to tell you the truth. Something about those bad boys who want to defend you by punching people is so hot.” My mom giggles at the memory.

  I laugh and then flinch when it hurts. “It is hot, isn’t it? But right now, I need to heal. I can’t listen to him spout off violence on everyone. It’s not healthy for me. He just needs to let it out and fight. His main exercise is some sort of cage fighting that he does with a few guys from his gym. He hasn’t worked out since we left New York, I’m sure all that pent up testosterone has him about to explode. He’s been prepared to punch every single person that walks into this room.”

  “Your dad came by when you were in surgery, Syd,” my mom says calmly. How in the hell can she drop a bomb like that on me when I just told her I need less stress so I can heal?

  “What? Daddy was here? Why didn’t he stay to see me?” I’m happy that my dad wanted to see how I was, but disappointed that I didn’t get to see him.

  “He didn’t want to add the stress of a reunion on top of everything else, Sydney. Call him when you get home, there’s plenty of time to rebuild with him. He’s not going anywhere. He just wanted to be here to support you and Drew right now.”

  “Did Drew meet him?”

  “Yes, and they really bonded over their inability to keep that psycho away from you. They’re very much alike, Sydney. Drew’s a good man, I can see it.” Mom’s gorgeous features are tired and sad looking. “He loves you very much.”

  “I know Mom. He does. He thinks this is entirely his fault, but it’s my past that came back. It had nothing to do with him.”

  “Honey, it’s no one’s fault. You couldn’t stay alone and in hiding forever. We all still think you did the right thing by living your life. Not one of us thinks you were better off before, even considering the attack.” My mom is tearing up a little. “You were so unhappy and alone, Sydney. I’m just so glad you found Drew.”

  “Me too, Mom. He’s my everything.”

  Chapter 43

  I haven’t left my loft for twelve days. Where would I go anyway? The press has been blocking my street since Drew and I got back from California. He keeps calling the police to break up the mob, but they just keep coming back.

  What’s the point?

  The news of the attack on me has been the top story since it happened over two weeks ago. We’re here instead of his brownstone because at least here we’re eight stories up from the madness instead of street level where people can ring his doorbell. Drew has his newly hired security in the lobby and in the hall outside my front door to keep everyone away.

  I’m sitting in one of the cozy chairs by my bedroom windows, looking down at the undulating mass of reporters in front of the building. They’re like a living thing, pulsing and moving on the sidewalk like a single large creature. Traffic is snarled all the way down the street and through the intersection at Hudson. No fewer than five white news vans with satellite dishes on top are lining the road. There would be more if they could find a spot to park. I could watch the news reports as they happen if I wanted to.

  As soon as we got home, Drew bought me the TV I promised Brandon Eastlake that I would get so I could watch his show. I don’t bother with the news. I already know what happened to me and have no desire to hear it discussed as if it’s entertainment. I sigh and sink back into the chair.

  I received a lot of phone calls wishing me well. Jeff Talley and Ben Walton from the Warren Hotel sent flowers. Adam Reynolds called me at the hospital. We chatted briefly while Drew stewed in the other room. Adam felt terrible about what happened at Verve and apologized profusely for Kiera’s behavior. I told him it wasn’t his fault and he promised to keep in touch to make sure I was okay. I didn’t bother telling Drew about that, I can’t face another fight over Adam Reynolds.

  Brandon Eastlake called and asked if he could come by and see me, so he stopped in for a few hours. He felt guilty too, since his program brought all of the attention on me. Everyone around me is feeling responsible for something that was entirely the fault of one crazy man who is currently sitting in a jail cell.

  I hear Drew yelling at someone on the phone in the living room of my loft. He pretty much yells at everyone these days. I listen to the one-sided conversation.

  “I said when I cahn make it! ...Yeah, anothah week. That’s what I said! ... What is it that you cahnt undahstand? ... No … No …I fuckin’ said no!”

  Full Boston. He’s mad as hell.

  I hear him coming down the hall to the bedroom and turn to face the doorway. When he sees that I’m not in the bed, he stops dead in his tracks. His head whips around the room until he finds me by the windows.

  “Sydney, you shouldn’t be out of bed.” He walks across the room and sits in the chair next to mine.

  “I’m fine, Drew. I can’t be in bed anymore. I need to get out of here. I’m going crazy.” I look at him and can tell he’s trying to decide whether this is a good thing or a bad thing.

  He sighs and rakes his hand through his hair. He needs a haircut, and a shave, and about a week’s worth of sleep. “I have to be at three more premieres for A Soldier’s Burden this weekend and on the set in two weeks to start production on Downtrodden Masses in Vancouver. One of the premieres is here in New York, but one is in Chicago and the other is in Miami. I’ve pushed them back as far as I can. It’s in my contract, Syd. I have to be there. It’s a limited release independent film, not a huge blockbuster. I can’t leave the people who financed it hanging.” The tortured look on his tired face makes me feel so bad for all of the stress I’ve caused him. I need to make
this right.

  I reach out and take his hand in mine and stare at our intertwined fingers. “I know you have to be there. I’ll have Leah stay with me while you go to Miami and Chicago.” He starts to protest but I cut him off. “Go Drew, walk the carpet, answer the questions. We have to be normal again.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Okay, as normal as we can be. Then when you have to start filming in Vancouver, I’ll go with you. Maybe getting out of here would be good for us.” I look up at him through my eyelashes and see his surprised expression.

  “You’ll come with me?” he asks softly, as if speaking too loudly will scare me into changing my mind. “I didn’t think you’d want to go. I thought you’d be done with that part of my life after what happened at the premiere.”

  “I want to be with you, Drew. I love every part of you, even your work. Your film was beautiful, you have to continue to act and I have to be with you. What happened was not because of your job, it was because of a crazy man who was obsessed with me. He knew me long before I met you, Drew. Besides, I don’t think time apart would be great for us right now. I need you to get through this, and you’re too nervous about me being alone. So, can I come with you to Vancouver?”

  Drew holds his arms out and I accept his invitation. I crawl up into his lap in a tight ball, and he wraps his arms around me. We’ve been so physically distant these past two weeks, both of us too afraid; me afraid of reminding him of our loss, Drew afraid of hurting me. His strong embrace feels like home.

  “Please come with me babe, I’d go crazy with you thousands of miles away. I need to know that we’re okay.” He kisses my head and rests his chin on my shoulder.

  “We’re definitely okay,” I turn to face him and he kisses me gently. “I haven’t been to Vancouver in a long time; I wonder what I should pack?” I contemplate out loud.

  For the first time in fifteen days, we both smile. I start to think that we’ll be okay. We have each other. Then I remember that his co-star in Vancouver is Kiera Radcliff.