Absolutely Famous (12 page)

“I hate Jason Bennett!” I scream as I stomp into the house and over to the huge kitchen.

“Sydney, don’t say such ugly things,” cautions Anna, our housekeeper.

“Well I do hate him! He’s a mean jerk and a bully!” I shriek, slamming the refrigerator and running up to my room.

I lie
on my bed and cry into my favorite pillow, the one that I curl up with every night when being alone in this big empty house scares me. I’m not really ever alone, if you count Anna, or Robbie my Mommy’s bodyguard, or the four guys that monitor the front gate, or the rotation of live-in nannies that come and go every so often, or all of the other people who work here. But even though there are people around, I always feel alone and I’m pretty much always afraid. I’m ten years old and I live by myself in constant fear.

Daddy is gone for a couple of months about three times a year, but he’s home now. Well, he’ll be home later, but he’s not
gone away filming. Mommy is away though. She was here until yesterday, then had to go out of town. It’s not for a movie, but no one will tell me where she went. Mommy was home when I left for school yesterday and when I came home she was gone.

People think it’s so cool having movie stars for parents. But it’s lonely and kind of scary. They’re never home, and when they are, we’re always surrounded by s
ecurity or reporters or fans.

There’s hardly ever a time that we drive through our front gate when there aren’t at least ten random people hanging out on the street, trying to see my mom or dad. If there’s a big movie coming out or a big story, there’s even more than ten. Sometimes, they attack our car with their fists, screaming and crying and shoving cameras against the windows. Today there was a pretty big crowd.

I must have fallen asleep because it’s dark out and my Daddy is sitting on my bed next to me, reading a script. He looks tired. He’s wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and loose blue pajama pants and he looks like he hasn’t shaved in a few days.

“Hey Heartbreaker,” he says gently, smiling at me as he puts down the papers.

“Daddy!” I hug my Daddy hard. He makes me feel safe when he’s home. “Why are you in my room?”

He kisses my head and hugs me back. “I wanted to be with you. So, what happened at school today, Syd?”

Anna must have told him that I was mad when I got home from school.

“Nothing
.” I don’t want to tell him what Jason Bennett said at school. He’ll be angry.

Daddy pushes my shoulders back so he can see me. I look at my Daddy’s face; we have the same blue eyes, and the same full lips. That’s what people say, anyway.

“You can tell me Sydney. If you’re upset then I want to help you.”

Tears course down my cheeks
. I’m embarrassed to tell him. He wipes away my tears with his big thumbs and smiles.

“So brave, my little Heartbreaker, not wanting to worry me so you keep it all inside. You don’t have to be alone, Syd. Even though your mother and I aren’t with you as much as we would like, we’ll still always be your parents and always love you.”

I take a deep breath. I’m not good at sharing my feelings. It’s because I don’t trust a lot of people. My Mommy said it’s normal to not trust anyone when you’re famous. I’m not famous though, so I don’t understand why I’m this way too.

“Jason Bennett,” I start and then crumple my face up in disgust.

“His dad is Joel Bennett, the director, right?” Daddy asks.

“Yes
.”

“Go on
.” Daddy rubs my back and tucks my long auburn hair behind my ear.

“He said,” my voice cracks a little, “He said that a bunch of people tried to kill Mommy.” Daddy’s eyes get bigger, then he looks sad. Sad for me. “Is that why she’s gone? Jason said she left town to hide from the bad people.”

He pulls me back into a big hug. “Heartbreaker,” he whispers in my ear. “You don’t have to worry about those kinds of things. God, I could literally beat Joel Bennett for speaking about that in front of his son.” Daddy’s voice is low and scary and his arms are wrapped around me tight.

“Is someone trying to kill Mommy?” I ask, my voice pleading with my dad to tell me. “I’m scared, Daddy.”

“Syd, it’s not like that. You … you’re just not old enough … damn!” Daddy lets go of me and gets up, pacing back and forth in front of my bed. He’s making fists with his hands. Yes, Daddy is definitely mad.

“You’re a kid, Sydney! You should be riding your bike in the driveway and jumping rope and going to birthday parties!” He’s walking faster, and he’s talking faster too. “You shouldn’t be involved in any of this,” Daddy waves his hands around h
is head wildly. “This… this stuff!”

“I’m not allowed to ride my bike in the driveway, Daddy
.”

“I know that! That’s the problem, Sydney!” he yells. “You can’t do anything normal! Shit!”

I flinch back. Why is he mad at me? I start crying harder. “Don’t yell at me Daddy!” I whimper pathetically.

“I’m not yelling at you baby
.” Daddy is kneeling next to my bed, cupping my face in his warm hands. He’s only an inch from my face, staring at me with a miserable look in his eyes. “I just wish you could grow up like I did. Free to do what you want and go where you want without fear. Do kid stuff, not hide in a huge house behind gates and bodyguards.”

“But if I grew up like that then you wouldn’t be my Daddy
.”

Daddy looks like he hurts rea
lly bad when I say that. “I know Sydney, I know.”

****

I hadn’t learned that a crazy fan group of a rival actress had made threats against my mother’s life until I was much older. One of them had gotten pretty close to her at a photo shoot, armed with a gun. She had to leave town until the FBI could follow up on the leads and arrest the other members. She didn’t want to stay at our house and possibly lead them to me or my dad, so she went to the Caribbean for a few weeks.

The ringing of my phone pulls me back to the present.

I rub my eyes and sit up, grabbing my phone off of the nightstand. My heart leaps out of my chest when I look at the caller ID.

“Allie?” It’s Allie Forrester, Drew’s sister.

“What the heck is going on with you and my brother?” she asks loudly, her New England accent more pronounced than usual. If there’s one thing I learned about Allie, it’s that she doesn’t pull any punches.

“What do you mean?” I pretend
not to know what she’s talking about.

Drew’s family is awesome. They’re loving and close and pretty much the perfect family. And they never ask about the gossip that’s printed about Drew, or me for that matter. They know that it’s almost always a bunch of lies. I hope she’s not calling me about the Adam Reynolds article.

“I mean, what in the heck are you doing halfway across the world from my brother? And what the hell is going on with him? He won’t talk to me. He also says he isn’t coming to the big annual fundraising ball for Inpatient to Learn! He never misses one, Sydney! I had to find out from Jane.”

“Huh? What ball?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Sydney!” Allie whines in my ear. “Drew’s charity, Inpatient to Learn! It’s the biggest fundraiser they have each year and he says he isn’t going. We need him there to bring in bigger donors. I want to know what the hell is going on between you two that he’d willingly miss it.”

Drew started the charity years ago with his mom’s help. She had been forced to retire from teaching after Drew’s fame made it pretty much impossible to keep her
job. Too many female fans were sneaking into the school to convince her that they should marry her famous son.

After quitting, she started volunteering at the Dana Farber Institute in Boston, tutoring the kids that had been in the hospital for months on end for their cancer treatments. Drew’s childhood friend had died from a brain tumor in his teens, so he wanted to help his mom turn her volunteer work into something bigger. His friend’s twin brother and parents run the charity with Drew’s mom.

“He said he isn’t going? But why?”

“He won’t say, Sydney. I never mention any of the shit that they print about him because it pisses him off, but you have to tell me. Did you guys break up
?”

“I don’t know,” I answer her truthfully. “Allie, I can’t really talk about this in the hotel room. I think someone is recording my conversations
.”

“What!” she shrieks.

I quickly explain the articles on the
CelebCast
website and tell her that Ryker hired someone to find the devices.”

“Ryker Bancroft,” she says flatly. “You really are hanging out with Ryker Bancroft in London.”

“Allie, no, it’s not like that. He’s dating my best friend.”

“I don’t care how you know him!” she screeches. “I can’t believe you get to hang out with Ryker Bancroft! Man, I am in the wrong line of work. He’s pretty hot, Syd. I’m totally jealous right now. I may even hate you a little,” Allie says sarcastically.

“I wish I could care about that. My life is pretty much shit, Allie.”

“That’s it. I’m coming to see you,
.”” she states.

“What? You don’t have to do that!” If I pull Drew’s sister into the gaping black hole that swirls around me and something bad happens to her, Drew will never forgive me. Hell, I’ll never forgive myself.

“Sydney, you wouldn’t let me help after that freak show attacked you. You’re like a sister to me. I see how my brother looks at you and how he talks about you. If you’re important to him, then you’re important to me. I can’t get this week off but I’m coming next Monday. Make sure you have a couch or something for me to sleep on. We’re going to fix whatever’s going on between you and my brother and we’re going to find out who’s spying on you.”

Note to self, don’t mess with Allie Forrester
.

“Okay,” I give in. “Thanks Allie, it means a lot to me. I don’t have a lot of people that I can count on or trust
.”

“Anytime, Syd. See ya next week!”

I throw the phone on the bed and rub my temples.

This shit just gets better and better
.

I pick up the hotel phone and call the front desk, requesting to be moved to a two bedroom suite so Allie will have her own room. The clerk says it’s no problem and will have someone move my things in a couple of hours.

Sighing, I retrieve my own phone and text Jane, letting her know that Allie is coming a week from today to stay with me for who knows how long. I scroll through my contacts to call my mom. I haven’t been able to reach her since I left Vancouver, and I don’t want to leave a message. Then I remember that I can’t talk to her from my hotel room in case
they’re
listening. Fuming, I throw the covers off and get out of bed.

It’s only 2pm. I really need to get my body set to London time or I’m going to feel like crap for the next two months. I get dressed in red skinny jeans and a cream colored blouse and grab my messenger bag. Time to go upstairs and go to work.

Walking into the space that will soon be Vertigo, I’m shocked to see that some demolition has already begun. All of the non-fixed items had already been removed when I toured the club yesterday. Dozens of workers are now removing all of the stationary furniture. Unbolting banquettes and disassembling the massive bar that takes up an entire wall next to the dance floor. When the Warren Hotel Group wants something, they make it happen… fast. Not even a basic kitchen remodel is as quick as this.

I walk over to a huge folding table that has been set up in one end of the room and throw my bag onto it. Removing my digital sketchpad and the list of measurements that I took, I sit in a chair and begin figuring out the new look.

beep beep beep beep

Two hours later my phone lets me know that Google Alerts has found something.

Google Alert
– Sydney Tannen

Google Alert
– Andrew Forrester

I sigh. Can I really handle this right now? I get up, clutching the phone close, and walk over to the floor to ceiling windows that span the far end of the club. We’re on the 34
th
floor of the hotel. The Warren always puts their nightclubs on the highest floor of their hotels. They think that the further up it is from the ground, the more exclusive the guests will feel it is.

New Sydney doesn’t press her head to the glass during a massive anxiety attack. But today, I don’t feel like New Sydney. Today, I need help coping. Leaning in I let the cool glass connect with my forehead. I stare out at the city, watching boats cruise up the river
hundreds of feet below. Breathing deep, I calm down enough to stop the waves of panic that were threatening to take me down.

“Sydney?” I hear a man’s voice call out behind me.

Turning, I see Oliver Clarke heading my way with a clipboard in his hand and a pencil tucked behind his ear. He’s wearing tan cargo pants with a tight, army green T-shirt that shows off his broad chest and narrow waist. I bring my gaze up and realize he caught me eyeballing him.