After ending the call, I take one last look through the huge office window and into the night. Exhaling deeply, I turn back to the desk and shut down my MacBook, plug in my phone, and leave the office to get ready for bed.
As I scrub my tired face I look in the mirror. At five foot seven inches, I’m tall enough, and my near religious devotion to yoga and running keep my body lithe and athletic. Of course, the exercise is more to keep me sane and nightmare-free than fit, but whatever, the result is the same. I think I look like my mother, except I have my dad’s eyes and too-full lips.
I look closer and notice that the circles under my large blue eyes are becoming darker than ever. I also notice how dull my eyes seem; joyless. As much as I blame the stress on work, I know that my anxiety issues and lack of sleep from never facing the trauma of my past, as well as my non-existent social life play at least some part in my haggard appearance. Twenty-four going on fifty. Sighing, I turn from the mirror and head into my bedroom.
I devoted an entire corner of the room to my bookcases, stacked high with all types of novels and design books. Since I don’t watch or even own a TV, the shelves are overflowing.
I skip reading tonight and climb into bed, exhausted. Thankfully, I fall asleep before a single worry can come back into my mind.
Chapter 4
“Well Miss Allen, this is perfect. It is exactly what the Warren was looking for in our nightclub redesign.” I smile and stand up from the conference table to shake hands with Jeff Talley, the project manager for the Warren Hotel remodel.
“Yes, it’s definitely what we want Verve to portray to the city,” chirps Natasha Lin, head of the New York location. “I think that the hotel chain president will want to redesign all of our nightclubs with your firm once he sees what you’ve done.”
As I reach out to shake Natasha’s small hand, I look at her put together appearance, her shiny black hair cut blunt at her pointy chin and her dark eyes radiant. I silently thank my under eye concealer for helping to make me presentable this morning.
“Thank you both so much. Mr. Talley, I’ll arrange for the shipment of materials for your workers to begin the install, and you can tell me the dates that you choose so I can be there to oversee the design.”
After exchanging goodbyes I pack up my presentation and head home, smiling broadly for the first time in a while.
Done with work for a couple of weeks, I feel as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Unfortunately, the weight of just being Sydney Allen still presses down on me relentlessly. I had thought that at age fourteen, when I asked my mom to let me change my name from Tannen to Allen that some of the anxiety I suffered would have vanished with my dad’s famous name. And it did bring me some degree of anonymity, everyone knew who Sydney Tannen was, but few put the pieces together when I was introduced as Sydney Allen.
However, there was no erasing my memories, no matter how hard I try to pretend they didn’t happen. I can’t even think about the fact that my dad had betrayed me and my mother very publically and hasn’t bothered to contact us since. I asked my mom about Reid Tannen when it happened. I cried and threw a fit and missed my dad every single day, but I was just too young to understand and eventually too afraid of opening wounds that had taken my mom years to heal.
Ultimately, it was easier to cope if I just stuffed the pain down and didn’t think about it. As much as I want to ask all of the questions that plague me still, I’m deathly afraid to find out the answers. So here I am, in this unending limbo of denial.
Once I get home, I turn to my usual therapy to work through my issues, running. I throw on my running shoes, strap my iPod to my arm, pull on a knitted skullcap and head back into the city to sweat out my problems before the winter brings a very early nightfall.
I’m on my 4th mile when I think about what Leah had said the other day in the café. Leah was my first friend when I moved to New York twelve years ago, and she knows everything about my past. She knows why I refuse to own a TV, why I won’t read entertainment magazines, why I haven’t seen a movie since moving to the city, why I don’t listen to any music made after 2001, why I avoid real relationships, and she thinks it’s time for me to let people in.
I know Leah wants me to date Adam, but she pushes me to date everyone. She thinks I’m obsessed with privacy and overreacting. Maybe I’m both, but I don’t feel that way about Adam. Adam is comforting. He seems to desire the same solitude and superficial contact that I want. He’s gorgeous and intriguing and makes me feel beautiful, but I don’t feel a spark for him. Not like the panty-melting electricity I felt with Drew as his rough fingers grazed over my skin.
Plus, the fact that I’ve spent over a dozen mornings chatting with Adam and he hasn’t asked me out or even asked for my number leads me to believe that he either feels the same way or can’t be bothered. It would just be one night of sex and that’s it. I’ve been there and done that plenty of times, and I wouldn’t want to ruin what little progress I’ve made socially by sleeping with him.
Is it time to let someone in?
Maybe, but I’m afraid that anyone I let in would eventually sell me out to the tabloids when they find out who I am. The thought of going through that again sends a paralyzing spasm through my chest, making it difficult to breathe. Leah hasn’t sold me out, but not everyone is as loyal as my best friend.
People also weren’t camping out on her front walk, threatening to kill themselves if they couldn’t meet her dad, which is why she thinks it’s no big deal.
Wanting to get rid of the anxiety I have rushing through my veins, I crank up the deep bass of Green Day and push myself to run faster as I contemplate Leah’s advice. What is the worst that could happen? Could I lose my hard-earned anonymity and survive? Or is it worse to live without ever letting anyone in?
After pushing myself for four more miles I come to a stop in front of the brick and glass exterior of my building. Panting, I bend over and put my hands down on my knees, attempting to catch my breath. With nothing solved except the decision to possibly, in the future, maybe be more open to relationships with other people, and the conclusion that Adam might be a flirt and he’s gorgeous, but we’ll just be friends.
I pull out my ear buds, throw a quick “hello” at Richard and bolt inside. Feeling even more anti-social than usual, I decide to order Thai food to be delivered and spend the night reading until I fall asleep.
****
“Sydney. Sydney! Baby, are you awake?” My mother’s voice sounds panicked and stressed out.
I open my eyes and see that I’m lying on my parents’ bed, with my mother and Devin, her head of PR, leaning over me, both with deep furrows etched in their concerned faces.
“Don’t sit up too fast, baby. You scared us there by fainting.” Mom hugs me to her chest and pulls her long fingers through my wavy auburn hair. “I know this is overwhelming, Sydney. I’m getting us out of here before it gets worse. I won’t let them destroy you.”
I have no idea what Mom is talking about so I just nod my head along with her comforting words. I’ve been through so much these past two months, I don’t have the energy for questions right now. Actually, I’m suddenly so tired I feel as though every last bit of me had been drained of life.
The next hour is a whirlwind of activity of strangers in my house, so I retreat to my bedroom and collapse on the massive bed. After staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours, I let my eyelids close and moments later hear a soft knock on the door. Mom breezes into the room and sits on the bed beside me. “Syd, we’re going now. All of your stuff will be sent to New York later this week. The jet is waiting for us at Van Nuys.”
I gather all of the strength I have left and sit up to look at my mother’s calm face. From a very young age I have been able to tell the difference between Eva Allen my mom and Evangeline Allen the actress. The face I’m looking at across the brand new fluffy pink and white comforter is nothing but an act. This is the composed façade that my mom wears to seem
strong while she’s falling to pieces inside. This is what makes her a great actress, but I can tell that Mom can’t hold up the performance for much longer.
“Am I going to see Daddy before we leave?” My mother’s face falls for the briefest of moments and the mask snaps back in place.
“No, Syd. He’s gone. I’ve asked him to leave and never come back.”
****
I shoot up out of bed clutching at the covers to get to my rapidly beating heart. Wiping the sweat off of my brow with a trembling hand, I take a quick look at the clock on the nightstand.
3:07am
I sigh and fall back onto my pillow in defeat. Damn! Running is supposed to keep the bad memories away for the night. Lying in bed staring at the pipes and ductwork crisscrossing the old ceiling, I start to get angry. Beyond angry, I’m furious. Why can’t I sleep peacefully without exercising myself to death? I’m so sick and fucking tired of pretending my past didn’t happen, that I didn’t care my dad abandoned me. Years of therapy and I’m still an untrusting, anxiety-ridden, shell of a girl.
Pissed off, I’ve had enough. I throw back the covers and stomp down the hall to the kitchen. Flicking on lights as I enter each room, I storm over to cabinet, yank out a shot glass and bottle of Patrón and throw down a large gulp of the liquid, letting the fire burn my throat as I swallow. I slam the glass down on the counter and step over to the full sized wine cooler, pull out a bottle of my favorite Cabernet and pour a huge glassful.
At least I know that alcohol will stop the nerves temporarily.
I turn on my heel and stalk back down the hall, fuming as I head into my office and fall into the plush office chair in a heap. Taking a huge sip of wine, I flip open my laptop and tap my fingers as I wait for it to start up. Ugh! I spin my chair around and stare out the window. Swallowing another giant mouthful of the wine, I will the alcohol coursing through my body to numb my pain.
Turning back to the computer, I bring up Google and hesitate as my hands shake over the keyboard. Determined to see this through, I throw back the final gulp, emptying the glass of my liquid courage. Frowning, I type a name into the search engine that I haven’t looked for in the last twelve years.
Reid Tannen
As cold as I am, I can feel the sweat beading on my furrowed brow and pause. “I can do this,” I say out loud to myself.
The last twelve years have been carefully structured to avoid situations like this one. No Hollywood, no gossip rags, no TV shows, no Google, no celebrity; all to prevent repeating the overpowering heartache I had suffered through when I was just a kid.
I can’t even name the latest hot young actor. Newest blockbuster? No clue. Biggest TV show? Nope. Top 50 songs? No idea.
After seeing the hurt my mother felt at the hands of fame; hands that would rip you to shreds five minutes after holding you aloft for your achievements, I feel nauseous at the entire concept of their ivory tower of bullshit and livid at Americans for buying into all that celebrity garbage.
Well, I’m sick and tired of all this crap!
Sick of worrying, sick of being alone, sick of not trusting anyone, sick of sleepless nights, sick of pretending my dad didn’t leave. It’s time to take the past and confront it. My finger hovers over the key, I take a deep breath, squeeze my eyes shut and hit
Enter
Afraid to look, I press the heels of my hands into my tired eyes, inhale deeply to calm my racing heart, and peek up at the screen. Along with several photos of dad, my eyes bug out as I scan link after link of articles relating to his life and work: 150,000,000 results to be exact. Holy fuck.
Reid Tannen – IMDB
www.imdb.com/name/nm0000067/
Reid Tannen: Actor, producer. Filmography, biography, awards, personal life…
Reid Tannen - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reid_Tannen
Arthur Reid Tannen (born March 20, 1966) is an American actor and film producer. Tannen has received four Academy Award nominations and five Golden Globe nominations. Winning one Golden Globe for….
Reid Tannen fan site
www.Reid_Tannen.com
Find all the latest news, images, videos and more. Click…
News for Reid Tannen
Reid Tannen Breaking News, Photos, and Videos | RoxyFan
www.roxyfan.com/tags/reid_tannen/?ref=topcelebs
1 day ago – Top Hollywood hunks Maxon Sundry and Reid Tannen show-off their sculpted abs while filming a movie at an undisclosed beach in Hawaii. The ever hot Reid grabbed a paddleboard between scenes and hit the surf……
Bad Boy Reid Tannen Angry Again
CelebWeekly- Reid Tannen lashes out at fans and photogs that get too close and personal to the star on the set of his current movie, Anti-Hero, filming in various locations around Hawaii. The long time “Bad Boy” was….
Reid Tannen admits in Walters interview that he screwed up with Evangeline Allen
abcnews.com- The notoriously tight-lipped Tannen sat down with Barbara Walters for her “Most Fascinating Person of the Year” interview and shed a little bit of light on his relationship with his ex-wife, Evangeline Allen, and his estranged daughter Sydney. What small bits of information he revealed….
Hollywood buzzes with Oscar fever, Reid Tannen a sure thing?
Entertainment 8- Insiders say that Reid Tannen is not only a shoe-in for an Oscar nomination for his portrayal of tormented painter Vincent Van Gogh in his movie House of Auvers, it is said he is all but guaranteed the win. After four nominations and zero wins, is it finally Tannen’s time to shine? Academy….
My eyes are first drawn to the hundreds of pictures of my dad. Clicking on each one and studying it intently. I feel the hot tears filling my eyes as I see the face of a man I loved and looked up to. He doesn’t look a whole lot different than I remember. Maybe there are a few more lines around the face and his piercing aqua eyes look a little less lively in photos than in person.
He’s clearly still gorgeous though, light brownish-blonde hair tousled in that care-free way he always had about him, his trademark lopsided smile that shows a hint of his perfect, white teeth. One eyebrow always arched slightly above the other, making you think he knew something that you didn’t, but wanted him to tell you. His chiseled jaw covered in just the right amount of five o’clock shadow to make him seem dangerous and the full lips I inherited that women literally screamed over.
I’m winded from the sharp pain of the loss that I never accepted or mourned and rub the moisture from my eyes. My bad habit of shoving down horrible situations in my life and acting as if they aren’t happening isn’t working for me. I’m angry, but I miss him.
I glance through the article titles, not brave enough to click on any of the links. I am too afraid to find out that he has moved on, has a new wife, kids, a family that doesn’t include me. My heart stops when I reach a link for an interview with Barbara Walters.
I begin to hyperventilate and have to put my head down on the desk and take deep breaths to calm down. I feel lightheaded from the oncoming panic attack. With my head still down, I stick my hand out and slam the laptop shut so I can’t see the article again. I’m just not ready to read about my dad’s point of view from that terrible time in my childhood.
Chapter 5
Since I still haven’t heard from Jeff Talley at the Warren Hotel, I’m free to spend my days as I wish. I chat with Mom every few days about upcoming designs and potential projects she’ll eventually need me to pitch, but nothing urgent to work on for a while. The custom furniture pieces are being made for the Verve nightclub, so I’m waiting for the delivery of those.
Amazingly, with all of my free time I’ve avoided thinking about the Google incident and throw myself back into my usual therapy of running, yoga, and hiding out. Leah’s advice to open up a little more keeps nagging at the back of my mind. I know that a random one night stand here and there isn’t going to bring me any happiness. I’ll have to let someone else past my walls.
I still have almost daily anxiety attacks and nightmares, so my way of coping isn’t working, maybe Leah’s way would be better. Adam might be interested in dating, but he’s just not the one for me. Regret pierces through me as I think about Drew again and know that I missed the opportunity to get to know him.
I could just go back to that gym and find him.
Right! Like I’d ever do anything that drastic. I shake my head. No, it just wasn’t meant to be.
After a quick five mile run on a cold January morning, I decide to visit the Village Coffee Bar and talk to Leah about possibly, maybe, considering trusting people sometime in the future. It’s a cop-out, but it’s as much commitment as I can give to changing such a deeply ingrained reflex right now. I figure Leah will think it’s a good start.
Feeling hopeful that a new mindset might help, I hop in the shower and wash away the sweat and city streets. I resolve to take the time to look good today. After neglecting my looks for the better part of the last several weeks, looking great might help me feel more confident in making such a huge life change.
I painstakingly blow dry and style my unmanageable hair into shiny auburn waves that hang down my back. Not one to forget that I still haven’t been sleeping well, my trusted concealer is a must have to cover up the dark circles under my eyes.
Feeling attractive for the first time in a long time, I grab a low cut, charcoal gray wrap shirt, pair it with my super soft broken-in low-rise jeans and pick my four inch, black Louboutin suede ankle boots from the rows of designer shoes in my closet to finish the look. Totally over the top for a coffee bar, but they’re so cute!
Relatively Famous (Famous Series) Page 3