Extremely Famous (9 page)

Shit!
I pull out my phone and call 911.

“911
, What’s your emergency?”

“Hello? I’m outside Pinnacle on W
est 18
th
Street and my friends are being assaulted by a mob of people. I need you to send the police!”

Don’t panic Sydney.
Who am I kidding?
I am freaking the fuck out right now
.

Drew and Evan aren’t any closer to Ryker and Leah. Holy shit, they’re all going to end up hurt, squashed, stepped on, or killed by the frenzied fangirls.

“Ma’am, I’m sending a car right now,” the operator says.

“Send more than one, there are at least fifty people, probably more
!” I am feeling the nauseating beginning of a panic attack in my chest. I refuse to be weak right now, my friends and Drew need me. I shove down the anxiety and suck in a deep breath.

Don’t pass out Sydney
.

“I’m sorry, did you say fifty people?”

“Yes! Please hurry!” I’m starting to come unraveled, screaming into the phone.

“Okay ma’am, stay calm. I’m sending several units to the scene. Are you safe?” she asks.

Bruce starts to jump out of the car to help.

“Bru
ce!” I snap at the older man, “Stay here! Someone could steal the car or hurt you, please!” I yell at him, now on the verge of tears.

He reluctantly closes the door and stays behind the wheel.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m okay, I’m in the car already.” I look out and see two large men in restaurant uniforms attempting to get through the mob to help my friends, who are now several yards down the sidewalk thanks to the pushy crowd.

Suddenly, bright blue lights appear and flash around the SUV. That’s one great thing about New York, there’s always a policeman nearby.

“They’re here, thank you,” I say to the dispatcher.

“Okay ma’am, I hope everything is alright,” she says sympathetically but more than a little confused by the whole situation.

I disconnect the call and watch as the bewildered police make their way through the horde of girls and paparazzi
that surround my friends. Several more units pull up behind me and more uniformed officers jump out of their cars. I watch as they begin to arrest crying women and red-faced men with massive cameras, pushing them to the ground and slapping handcuffs on them.

This is absolute
madness.

Finally, the car door opens and everyone piles in except Evan
, who stays to talk to two of the confused officers.

I hug Leah to me, consoling her as she cries hysterically, her small body trembling in fear. Ryker is also shaking, his beautiful face scratched up and red, a trickle of blood running down his neck. Drew is livid, his fists are curled up on his thighs and his jaw is clenched so tight that he could probably bite through steel at this point.

Evan taps on the window and Drew lowers it. “They said you can go and they’ll call tomorrow for statements. I’ll stay and give them everyone’s contact info,” he says. “Mr. Bancroft, do you want them to take pictures of your injuries?”

Ryker shakes his head and then drops it into his trembling hands, running them through his trademark messy hair.

Drew nods his chin at Evan and puts the window back up. “Bruce,” he says in a restrained voice.

We pull away from the curb and head home.

Nothing can ever be normal for us.

Or is this the new normal?

Drew is pissed, and honestly, I don’t even blame him. By the time we dropped of
f Ryker and Leah and got back to Drew’s brownstone, I had a huge purple bruise on my face and Drew had scratches all over his hands and wrists.

He paced the bedroom last night, going back and forth in front of the massive windows until I begged him to stop. I have no idea what time he came to bed last night, but he looks like he
didn’t get any sleep.

I’m nursing my coffee from the plush couch in the living room when Drew stomps down the stairs. He looks terrible. His eyes are red and there are shadows under them, he desperately needs a shave and his hair is standing up in every possible direction. Despite all that, he’s still the hotte
st man I’ve ever laid eyes on, even in his gym shorts and faded Boston College T-shirt.

Drew flops down next to me on the sofa and does
something he never, ever does. He grabs the remote, turns on the TV, and flips it to a network morning news program. One that he told me he’s appeared on many times.

“What’s this about?” I ask, curious to see what’s going on in his head.

“Allie called,” he grunts, twitching restlessly. “There’s a story about what happened last night. She said I need to see it.”

Oh boy.
I jump up and get him a cup of coffee from the kitchen, knowing that he’s probably going to need it. Especially after last night. Whatever we’re about to see will no doubt stress him out, then we have the FBI coming in two hours to tell us who knows what about the death threats. Plus, we have to give the NYPD our statements.

Just another day in our completely fucked up life.

I hand him the cup and sit back down next to him. Drew keeps looking at his phone, which buzzes continuously.

“Is it important?”

“It’s Rhys, Jane, and Quentin. They’re calling about whatever we’re about to watch.” He dismisses the calls and tosses his phone onto the coffee table. “I don’t feel like talking about it with them.”

The anchor begins his introduction and we both lean forward to listen.

“When does a quiet dinner with friends become a riot involving screaming women, dozens of paparazzi, and over twenty policemen? Apparently when you’re Andrew Forrester and Ryker Bancroft, because that’s exactly what happened last night right here in New York City’s Chelsea neighborhood.”

He turns to the woman next to him at the anchor desk.

“Our entertainment correspondent, Marina Levin, has the story.”

“Thanks Mark. T
hings got downright scary for actors Andrew Forrester and Ryker Bancroft and their female companions last night in front of Pinnacle, a restaurant on West 18
th
Street in Chelsea’s Garment District.”

They show video footage of us getting jostled and mobbed outside the restaurant while the reporter continues her voice over. It looks even scarier than it felt because the camera is getting smacked around by the screaming women.

“A mob of excited fans and paparazzi showed up on the sidewalk outside Pinnacle when a patron in the restaurant Tweeted that the stars were inside having dinner.”

A screenshot of a Tweet fills Drew’s giant television screen as the reporter reads it out loud.

Jessie M.
@superjessie

OMG! At Pinnacle on 18
th
watching Ryker Bancroft and Andrew Forrester eat! #iloveryker #andrewforrester #oriondonovan

“That Tweet started a near riot outside when the stars exited the restaurant to get into their waiting SUV. Also caught in the melee were Forrester’s girlfriend, Sydney Tannen, who has been the subject of recent death threats, and Bancroft’s girlfriend and Tannen’s best friend Leah Quinn-Slade.”

“Tannen was able to get into the vehicle relatively unscathed.”

They show a clip of me getting smacked in the face… in slow motion. Thank you for that, network assholes.

“Forrester and his bodyguard went back into the crowd in an attempt to help Bancroft and Quinn-Slade get into the waiting car. You can see here that the fans are actually clawing at the stars, leaving marks all over Ryker Bancroft’s skin.”

Then they show a still shot of Ryker, blood trickling down his neck.

“A panicked Sydney Tannen, watching from the SUV, called 911 to stop the mob from further injuring her friends.”

I listen in horror as they play the recording of my frantic call to 911, showing footage of the mess to emphasize my viewpoint. Drew doesn’t say a word or move an inch.

“Police were finally able to disperse the crowd, resulting in at least fifteen arrests and three injuries to participants ranging from a broken foot to a black eye.”

“No word from reps for either Forrester or Bancroft at this hour. Back to you John.”

“Thanks Marina. We have entertainment lawyer Phil Lerner here to discuss the legal…”

Drew shuts off the TV and we sit quietly for a moment.

I watch as he runs his index finger over his mouth, tapping it
on his lip as he decides what to do next. Drew grabs his phone and stands up, looking out the massive windows at the gleaming cityscape and the looming Empire State Building in the not so distant background.

“Yep, just saw it…
”

“I know….”

“Fuckin’ scary as all fuck! What do you think?”

“Wicked pissed…”

“He needs security.”

“
Yeah… I’ll mention it, but call Red anyway…”

“
Bruised… Don’t ask such a stupid fucking question”

“
Ten… Yeah.”

Drew disconnects his call and
immediately makes another. I decide to head upstairs and get ready for the FBI
. Oh Joy
.

By the time I’ve finished showering and getting ready, I can still hear Drew talking on the phone. It makes me thankful that no one I know reads gossip sites or watches crappy tabloid television. I have no desire to rehash last night with all those people.

I did get a concerned text from Leslie, one of the crew members I met in London this spring. All I had to do was text her back that everything was fine. I’m sure she spoke to Leah anyway.

I head back downstairs and find Drew
still standing in front of the windows, on the phone with yet someone else to try and manage this nightmare. He sees me and I point at my wrist to let him know it’s getting late. The agents will be here in thirty minutes.

“Yeah, okay.
Bye.” Drew hangs up the phone and turns to me. “I’ll be right down. Steve and Evan will be here in a minute, they’re bringing Sam Jennings with them.” Drew is having his lawyer come over to be here during the FBI interview, typical.

He takes off up the stairs to get ready so I go downstairs to grab another cup of coffee and make a pot for our guests. I’m so nervous that more caffeine is
probably a bad idea, but I need something to do with my hands so I don’t freak out. I decide to take out my phone and call Leah. She’s almost certainly a mess after last night.

“Hey Syd,” Leah says when she answers.

“Leah, how are you?”

“I’ve been better, you?”

“Uh, just a bruise on my cheek, no big deal. Drew’s been making some calls, I’m not sure what about though.”

“Rhys called Ryker’s PR guy
, Will. They’re coordinating a joint statement, I think. They’re announcing the casting for
Breaking the Truth
tomorrow and they want to get the word out that it is not acceptable to act that way before they ratchet up the publicity.”

“Is Ryker okay?
He must be really upset.”

“Yeah
. He’s becoming afraid to go out Syd. He already had issues with appearing in public because of the fans, but now… I don’t know if he’ll leave this apartment again for anything but work.”

I hear my best friend sniffing and it breaks my heart. “Drew will know what to do, Leah. He’s been around a while and has a lot of resources
.”

Evan and Steve come clomping up the stairs from the front door and enter the kitchen with Sam Jennings following behind them.

“Leah, I gotta go. I’ll talk to Drew and call you back later.”

“I want to know about the FBI, so you better call me,” she insists.

“Bye Leah, it’ll be okay.” I try to reassure her, knowing very well that it may
not
be okay, especially if Ryker is suffering from panic attacks like I do and now agoraphobia. If I’ve learned anything the past few months, it’s that you can’t control or predict crazy

“Yeah, bye,” she says unconvincingly and then hangs up.

I feel so bad for her and Ryker. At least Drew isn’t assaulted when he leaves the house. Maybe Ryker needs to take up Muay Thai or something like that. I shake my head and focus on the men entering the room.

“Sam, nice to see you again,” I say as we shake hands. “Thanks for coming, but why are you here?”

“Oh, just protocol Sydney. It’s never good to speak with the authorities without your lawyer present. Just to keep everything on the up and up.” Sam declines my offer of coffee and settles in one of the large leather chairs in the sitting area. He puts on his reading glasses to review some papers that he brought with him.

I sigh and sit at the kitchen island and wait for the FBI to either drop a bomb in my lap or lift
a weight from my shoulders. A loud knock on the door interrupts my worrying. Steve goes downstairs to answer it just as Drew comes flying down from the bedroom, the phone to his ear yet again.

Two men with serious faces wearing serious suits follow Steve into the sitting area of the kitchen. I hop down from the barstool and shake hands with each one.

“I’m Agent Connors, this is Agent Smith.” I smirk at his name, thinking about the creepy agent in
The Matrix
.

“I get that a lot,” he says
, knowing what I’m thinking. “You must be Miss Tannen?”

“Yes,
I am.” I show the agents into the sitting area. “Make yourselves comfortable, I’ll get coffee.” I hear Sam introducing himself to the men.

Drew ends his call a
nd shakes hands with the agents. “Andrew Forrester, thanks for coming here. If you saw any of the news reports this morning, you’ll know it’s better for us not to bring the media to your front door.” He does his patented Andrew Forrester smile and sits on the couch. “Hey Sam,” he gestures to his lawyer.

Steve and Evan find places to stand nearby as I hand the agents their coffee and sit next to Drew.

“So gentleman, you said you had information regarding the death threat.” Drew puts his hand on my knee protectively.

“Yes,” Agent Connors begins. He pulls a file out of his leather bag and holds it in his lap. “What can you tell us about the incidents involving the
CelebCast
case?”

Our jaws drop at the same time, both of us stunned by the question.

“You have all of that information, the FBI is the agency working that case,” I say to them.

“
Why are you asking about that? Is it related to the threats on Sydney’s life?” Drew asks.

“Possibly,” Agent Smith says cryptically.

That was a mistake. Drew does not like being kept in the dark and he definitely doesn’t do ambiguous from people he doesn’t know. Plus, he’s sick and tired of talking about the wiretapping and frankly, so am I.

“Tell you what,”
Drew says in an irritated voice. “You tell us why you think the cases are connected and we’ll tell you what you need to know to make it stick.” His hand finds mine and squeezes it gently, spinning my ring around with his fingers.

Agent Smith sits back, shocked at Drew’s reluctance to cooperate. Certainly the FBI is used to more compliant or at least more easily intimidated victims. Well, Drew is possibly the farthest possible thing from compliant or easy to intimidate.

“Alright,” Agent Connors says. “The threats to Miss Tannen were made via the internet on a site dedicated to Mr. Forrester. Your official fan page, actually.” He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Drew.

It’s a
screen shot of an internet page with Drew’s picture at the top. Below are comments made by fans discussing all things Andrew Forrester. Circled is a comment posted by a
FutureMrsForrester
.

How hopeful of her, I think to myself
.

I’m going 2 kill that bitch Sydney Tannen. She doesn’t deserve him!

“So what,” Drew says derisively, tossing the paper on the table. “That doesn’t mean anything. One post on a website. Please tell me you have more than just this?”

Agent Connors pulls out a stack of papers an inch thick and places them on the table between us. “These, are all similar, posted by the same person, from different IP addresses, using different usernames, which is why it took so long to untangle. All of these were within the past three months.”