Extremely Famous (23 page)

The redness around my eyes has faded, but they’re still noticeably swollen. So I duck into the bathroom and put a thick layer of black kohl around my eyes.

Oh well, no one will know me so what do I care if I look like shit?

Inhaling deeply, maybe to give me courage or maybe to give me a minute to change my mind, I grab the door and twist, ducking through it and down the stairs to the garage.

Climbing into the car, I
tell Bruce to go. I need to get to my destination before I start crying again. I pull the picture out of my pocket and stare at it the entire ride, brushing my thumb across the grey blob. Within a few minutes, the bar is in sight up ahead. I can almost feel the relief spreading through me at the thought of hanging out with someone who will just be uncomplicated fun. No drama, no past, no traumatic events to discuss.

I shove the photo back into my jeans and open the door to Nevada Smith’s, a loud sports bar near the NYU campus. Leah and I used to come here a lot up until a year or two ago. It’s always packed, there’s always live music, and you can sit at the bar and not be felt up by a slimy club rat. Evan trails closely behind, his observant eyes taking in everyone around us.
I can feel his displeasure radiating off of his large body.

Tough shit
. I don’t owe Evan an explanation.

Keeping my head down I take a seat at the long bar. It smells like spilled beer, hot wings, and fried food. I order an orange vodka and tonic. When the bartender places it in front of me, he doesn’t even give me a second glance. Evan sits at a seat around the corner of the bar. Far enough so I’m alone, but close enough to intervene if anyone starts shit with me.

Perfect.

I sit and watch the students and young professionals as they watch soccer and drink with friends. Everything I have that people think they want; money, famous parents, a famous fiancé… right now I would trade it all to be able to live like them. Free to come and go as I please, my biggest concern being my next exam or who I’ll hook up with at the Saturday night frat party.

I’m just about to pull out the photo again when someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn and burst out laughing. I see Evan getting up from his chair to defend me from my admirer.

Holding up my hand, I wave him off.
“Evan, it’s fine.”

Evan hesitates, not sure if he should comply or check out the unknown man who has taken the seat next to me.

“It’s fine!” I snap at Evan so he’ll go back to his spot at the bar. I see his eyes widen in recognition as he studies Adam and he reluctantly sits back down. His penetrating gaze and perma-scowl, however, never waver.

“Damn Adam, I thought my outfit was bad. You, you look ridiculous!” I laugh.

Smiling, Adam looks me up and down; taking in the entirety of my disguise.

“Punk serves you well Sydney. You’re still as gorgeous as ever,” he says smoothly.

I roll my eyes at his complement. “I have to say, blonde most certainly does not serve
you
well.” Adam is wearing a shoulder length, messy blonde wig pulled back into a ponytail and thick black-framed glasses. His body is covered up with an oversized soccer jersey over a long-sleeved shirt. He looks hideous. And perfect.

“Thanks love, I think I look
hot! So, what brings us to this fine establishment tonight? Not that I mind, I’ve got lovely company and I see that they’re showing the Man. U. game, so I’m happy.” He nods up at one of the television sets hanging over the bar.

Adam focuses his intense hazel eyes on mine, trying to weed out my secrets.

“I just needed a night out with someone fun, you know. Drama free. I have way too much of that in my life right now.” I look away as the pints he ordered for us are placed on the bar.

I take a small sip, not sure if my stomach is capable of holding in any
more alcohol tonight after the abuse it’s been through.

“So you think I’m drama-free?” He looks up at the television for a moment before dropping his gaze back on me. “Maybe you just don’t know me well enough,” he says with a wicked smirk on his face.

I gasp at his insinuation. “Are you saying that you’re looking for drama Adam?” I ask as I take another sip of my beer.

He looks away, embarrassed.
“Nah, I’m more into a low profile right now. I’ll have to ratchet up the drama when my album drops so it’s good to have a little time off from all the shite, you know?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know. The shitstorm doesn’t ever seem to leave me alone
.”

He leans in close so no one else can hear our conversation.
“No, no it doesn’t. It’s your fault you know.”

I
back up and shoot daggers at him for suggesting that my troubles are my own doing.

“
Don’t get your knickers in a twist!” He laughs and holds his hands up in defense. “If you weren’t so delectably fascinating, everyone would leave you be. You’re just too gorgeous and interesting for your own good.”

I let my shoulders unclench at his explanation
. “Yeah, that must be it Adam. I’m just so mesmerizing that I have no idea how the world was able to function while I was living as a nobody for all those years.” I roll my eyes at him and drink my beer.

He looks right at me, daring me to pull away. “Yes, you are that mesmerizing. The only one who doesn’t see it is you.”

Uncomfortable with the direction of our conversation, I change the subject. “Want to dance?”

We can hear the band in the back room
begin to play their set. I haven’t been dancing since I left London in late June. I need to be fun and careless. Do the things that other young New Yorkers do every night instead of sitting at home worrying about stalkers and bodyguards and angry A-list actors.

“My pleasure.” Adam stands up and offers me his hand, leading me into the back room of the bar where the stage and dance floor are.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Evan follow us, frowning.

Whatever, he can just watch me have fun. I don’t give a shit tonight.

Adam leads me to an area in the middle of the floor and we start to dance. I should have known that with his singing and guitar playing abilities combined with his hot body, he’d be good. Actually, good doesn’t describe how he moves. He is like pure sex when he turns to me and works the music.

Holy shit!

I let go of my worries, not caring that it’s Adam and I’m not supposed to be here with him. I forget about the baby, about Drew’s secrets, about the media and the upcoming trials. For now, it’s just me and Adam, uncomplicated and fun.

I smile up at him and he pulls me close, wedging one leg between mine as we move together to the fast beat. It feels like it used to when I would go clubbing with Leah, meeting hot guys and torturing them with our bodies. He makes it easy to overlook his hideous disguise with the seductive way he rubs against me; not overtly sexual, but not exactly friendly either.

We dance until the band finishes its set, both of us exhausted and sweaty. Adam takes my hand and leads us back to the bar.

“Well, that was… interesting,” Adam says as he orders us
each another beer. He grabs the bottom of his shirt and uses it to wipe his face.

My mouth drops when I get a look at his bare skin. His abdomen is just as toned as I expected,
and unexpectedly, the tribal tattoo on his arm continues over half of his torso. But it’s the large white scar on one side of his midsection that shocks me.

Not wanting to throw a shadow over our evening,
I drink from the bottle that he hands me, saying nothing about the sexual tension that was between us on the dance floor or about the obvious damage to his beautiful skin.

I catch Evan
staring at me, giving me a death glare. Adam notices my distraction and looks over at the huge bodyguard.

“Being babysat again?” he asks playfully. “Is it because your boyfriend doesn’t trust you?”

I roll my eyes at Adam’s assumption. “No Adam. It’s because I’ve been assaulted, threatened, and stalked. That’s why.”

He nods in understand
ing and turns his back to Evan, leaning against the bar casually. “Does the big guy report everything you do back to him?”

I sigh, more out of frustration than anger
. “It’s really none of your business Adam, but no, I don’t think they do. Not everything anyway.”

He smiles
. A big, genuine, Adam Reynolds smile. Which would be hot as fuck were it not for the ridiculous wig and glasses. I’m sure I look just as bad, my eye makeup melting off of my face and my head dripping sweat from the suffocating black wig.

I put my hand on his arm and squeeze,
“I should go, but thanks for coming out with me. You have no idea how much I needed this.”

Adam shifts a fraction closer
, putting his hand loosely on my waist and leaning down to speak in my ear. “Anytime Sweetheart, anytime. You haven’t seemed yourself lately and I think I needed it too, so we’re good.”

I motion to Evan who is immediately at my side,
shooting a look at Adam as if he were a hardened criminal. I shake my head as the three of us walk out of the bar in an uncomfortable silence.

“So
, I’ll call you tomorrow. I have some designs done for you to approve.” I shift awkwardly as Bruce pulls up and Evan waits impatiently for me to get into the SUV.

Adam is completely unfazed
by my bodyguard’s rude behavior. “No worries, bye Sydney.” He gives me his dazzling rock star smile as he jumps into a cab.

I feel relaxed and worry-free, until I see Evan’s tightly clenched shoulders and wonder what he’s going to tell Drew.

The piercing noise is going to split my skull in half. It’s relentless, shrieking over and over again.

I crack my eyes open and instantly regret it. I forgot to close the curtains in Drew’s bedroom last night,
or maybe early this morning
, when I got back from the bar. The bright sunlight makes my eyes burn and my head throb. I squeeze them shut again.

I vaguely recall a
furious Evan stomping up the stairs and into his room last night. How unprofessional! He shouldn’t care what I’m doing or who I’m with. His only job is to keep me safe, not to worry about my social life.

The phone continues ringing, reminding me that I had a few drinks and danced all night without rehydrating.

Fuck!

I reach toward the noise, pawing at the bedspread to find my phone, its shrill ring starting for a fourth time. Not finding it, I attempt to sit up and instantly regret it as the room spins around me.

How many drinks did I have? More than I thought apparently.

The ring starts for a fifth time and I realize that my phone is in the pocket of my jeans, the ones that I’m still wearing.

I dig it out and answer the call, lying back on the bed and covering my eyes with my arm.

“Hello,” I rasp, my throat feeling like a blowtorch ignited inside it.

“Holy shit, Sydney! Where the hell have you been?” Drew yells.

“Babe, please. It’s too early for this,” I complain.

“Sydney, I’m in Tokyo and I know for a fact that it’s twelve hours ahead of New York. It’s midnight here so that means it’s noon.” He’s silent for a moment. “Did you just wake up?”

He sounds horrified.

“No, I took a nap.” Another lie. They seem to be coming easier. “I was confused when I woke up. I thought it was morning.”

“I can’t take this Sydney,” Drew growls into the phone. “Something is going on and you won’t tell me!”

I clutch my head with my free hand and sit up, ignoring the dizziness that floods my head.

“Like you have room to talk!” I yell. “You hide shit from me too! Like that phone call and your night out with Rhys!” I choke on my words as the emotions I’ve been trying to keep in spill over. “So screw you Forrester! You have no right to judge me!”

“Sydney,” he says in a more calm tone, “I love you. Tell me baby, what’s going on with you?”

I can hea
r the heartbreak in his voice. He’s freaking the fuck out. He knows I’m losing it and he’s six-thousand miles away, unable to do anything. Having me shut him out is the worst thing I can do to him right now, but I can’t discuss it. I can’t ruin the rest of the press tour. He only has one more city before he gets back.

“Drew, finish your tour. We’ll talk when you get back, please.” I silently beg him to accept my plea, knowing that he’ll ignore me and do what he feels is best for me.

“Syd,” his voice cracks on my name. “I can’t leave it. I can’t.”

I need to get off of the phone with him. He has to focus. “I… I have to go babe.”

“Don’t…”

I power off the phone and clutch it
to my chest, letting the misery take over as I sit on Drew’s giant bed.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt this alone.

After a few hours and a hot shower, I feel human enough to call Adam up to discuss some of my ideas.

He answers on the first ring.
“Sydney! You said you’d ring me but for some reason I didn’t believe you actually would.” His lyrical accent makes his words sound like a song.

“I have a few ideas that I need you to look at before I can go any further. I didn’t know if you were available later today
.”

“Two dates in two days, I’m flattered,” he laughs. “I’m at the studio right now, but I can meet up
with you after. Maybe dinner?”

Dinner …
with Adam Reynolds.
Not a good idea Sydney
, but I can’t go any further until he approves my designs and I want this part over with before Drew gets home.

“We can’t go out together Adam, it’s not a date and I won’t be photographed like that
.” My scratchy voice is waking up some and becoming more human-sounding.

“No worries Sydney, my friend from secondary school owns a restaurant in Midtown. We can meet there and eat in private.”

“No one else in the restaurant will see us?” I don’t want to wear my hideous wig again, especially after sweating in it last night.

“It’s a private room.
Fuck, am I that embarrassing to be seen with?” I know he’s joking, but he is well aware of the reasons why I don’t want to be seen out with him.

“Adam…” I warn.
I pause to think, listening to the sounds of his band in the studio while I decide. “Fine. But it’s a working dinner, okay?”

“Brill
Syd, just brill. I’ll ring my mate now and text you the time and address.”

“Okay Adam, bye.”

“Right, see you there.” I hear the phone disconnect.

I sigh
and stretch my tight neck muscles. How come most of my biggest errors in judgment involve Adam Reynolds? I pray that this doesn’t blow up in my face and head into Drew’s office to get my presentation ready for tonight.

A few hours later and I’m fidgeting in the back of the Mercedes SUV as Bruce drives me uptown to meet Adam. His friend’s restaurant is
called Dirty Bird, and has critically acclaimed Anglo-Indian fusion menu. I’ve never eaten there before, but the food is supposed to be sublime.

Why I’m nervous, I have no idea. I’ve sat across a table from Adam dozens of times while I’ve worked. He rubbed his body all over mine last night
on the dance floor for Christ’s sake! This shouldn’t be any different. It is though, because I’m lying to Drew repeatedly in order to do this. Guilt wracks my body, causing my hands to shake.

The SUV glides to a stop next to a brick-front building with a small black awning. Dirty Bird is scrawled across it in white lettering.
The night is warm for September, so there’s a substantial crowd out front waiting for tables.

Good thing Adam and I are arriving separately.

I smooth down my loose, wavy hair and take a deep breath. I went business casual tonight, not wanting to give anyone the wrong impression about our dinner. I’m wearing skinny black Nina Ricci trousers and a gray silk tank with black stiletto Mary Janes.

Steve opens my door and helps me onto the sidewalk. Heads in the crowd turn and I hear my name being spoken by some of the bystanders. Looking down, I dash into the restaurant before anyone has time to pull out their phones.

Inside, the willowy brunette hostess greets me with a fake smile. I don’t miss her scrutinizing gaze as it flicks over my appearance in disapproval.

What the fuck? Rude much?

“Welcome to Dirty Bird,” she says in a clipped London accent.

“Hi, I’m meeting someone,” I say politely
, hiking my bag up onto my shoulder. I’m not going to act like a bitch just because she is.

Her mouth twists into a
grimace for just a second, then her big phony smile returns. “Yes, Mr. Reynolds is already here. I’ll show you to your table,” she says in a snotty voice.

Who is this chick? And why is she so hostile?

I follow her through the crowded dining room, ducking my head to avoid the stares. I can feel Steve right behind me as we weave through the tables to a small room near the kitchen.

Adam is looking at his phone when we enter the private dining room. He promptly puts it away and stands to greet me as I near the table. Steve stays just outside the door, allowing me
very rare and very welcome discretion.

“Sydney, you look lovely. Much better than last night,” Adam says as he gives me a quick hug.

I hear the hostess gasp when Adam mentions us being together last night.

Adam graciously pulls out my chair and waits for me to sit. He returns to his seat and I catch the hostess ogling him as he circles the table.
Now her bitchiness makes sense. She’s hot for Adam and is jealous of me. How unprofessional of her.

“If you need anything else, your server is Victor and he’ll be by in a moment.” The hostess makes a face that looks as if she ate something bitter and stalks off in a cloud of fury.

I shake off her rudeness and focus on the meeting. “Hello Adam. This is a great place.”

I look around at the intimate room. The table would only hold six people at the most. The lighting is soft and warm and there’s a window on one wall that lets us see into the busy kitchen.

“Yes, it’s Prescott’s idea of a chef’s table. You can watch the action, but aren’t subject to their loud and sometimes vulgar conversations.” He smiles as he says this, and I realize that he looks extra-attractive tonight.

Adam is wearing skinny black jeans
and a white T-shirt with a gray vest over the top, his black tattoo on full display. His almost black hair is hanging over his forehead, a piece teasingly brushing across his brow. He’s unshaven as well, having let his dark stubble grow in to cover his handsome jaw.

“Prescott?” I ask. “I would have assumed he was Indian.”

“Yes, well he is. Half Indian, half Anglo. His surname is Sharma,” Adam says, grinning.

“Prescott Sharma?” I scoff. “That’s definitely… fusion.”

Adam laughs and I join him. I actually feel happy. It’s as though we’re still sitting in the café, me blissfully unaware of Adam’s fame as we chat. I’m thankful for this reprieve from my misery, even if it’s only for a few more hours. He always knows how to help me relax.

Our server comes in with two pint glasses of beer. I raise my eyebrow
s at Adam as mine is placed in front of me. I hadn’t planned on drinking alcohol tonight. I’ve had too much lately.

“I ordered you a drink,” he says sheepishly. “But trust me, it’s brill. You can’t eat here and not have a pint.”

I take a sip and taste the cool liquid as it floods my mouth. It reminds me of the beer we drank in London this summer, better than the domestic ones we had last night.

“It’s good. Thank you
.”

Victor
efficiently reads us the specials and takes our orders. Adam gets the curried mutton and I get the chicken and vegetable hotchpotch. I’m not too sure about the food, but Adam assures me that everything on the menu is excellent.

While we drink our beer, I get out my computer and scroll through the digital slides that I put together for each room. He loves everything I did and adds quite a few ideas of his own to each design. By the time we’re done
with our brainstorming, our food has arrived. Adam’s right, it’s delicious.

“You
always did have an eye for design,” I tell Adam, narrowing my eyes at him. “How come you aren’t just doing the rooms yourself?” I ask.

Adam looks surprised at my question. “I’m not a designer
, Sydney. I might have some sense of what I like and don’t like, but I wouldn’t have the faintest clue as to what to do first. Plus, I haven’t the time lately. My solo album drops in a month, then a tour after the first of the year. That doesn’t even include the time I’m spending with the band recording the soundtrack for Ryker’s movie, plus I really need to get home at some point,” he explains, sounding wistful at his upcoming full schedule.

Damn, he’s busy.
“That’s true.”

He stares at me, trying to figure out where I’m going with my thoughts. “You still think I did all of this to get into your knickers, don’t you?”

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing at his use of the word ‘knickers’. “Oh my God,” I say when I finally catch my breath. “I don’t know Adam, it’s all too convenient. Don’t you think?”

“Actually, if I wanted to be with you, I would find it decidedly inconvenient, seeing as you’re not available and all.”

I blush at his description of my relationship status.

“Can I ask you something?” I say to Adam, looking up through my eyelashes.

“Only if I get an answer in return.” He stares back at me, the atmosphere in the room suddenly serious.

“Alright, you can ask your question, but I’m pretty private,” I tell him. “You may not get the answer that you want.”

I can’t bring myself to trick him into telling me what I want to know with a promise of returning the favor. I may not want to discuss whatever it is he wants to ask, so I need to be honest with him.

“Fair
enough, what’s your question?” He leans forward, making the small space seem even more intimate.

“Ummm…” H
is proximity catches me off guard. I can smell his aftershave, mixed in with something else. It’s probably just him. He smells mouthwateringly good.

Shaking off my errant thoughts, I focus on my question. “Why do you and Drew hate each other so much? It doesn’t seem as though it’s just about Kiera. It feels like it goes back further than that.”

Adam shifts in his chair and leans away from me, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. I can tell he doesn’t want to answer my question.