Famous (23 page)

They're right. What am I doing? Even though I know I'm not supposed to stop, I have to. These are the people I work with, and now that I'm back in New York I'll be spending a lot of time with them. At least, I hope I will. The strobes keep flashing; the shutters are a din of clicking. I concentrate on appearing relaxed and open. “Seriously, guys? I haven't taken anything from anyone. I really don't understand what's going on with Willow. I'm just a photographer like the rest of you. I have a feeling you've gotten some bad information.”

My old pal Davy steps forward out of the silhouettes and flashing lights. “Come on, Jamie, that's BS and you know it.”

More strobes flash, but the group quiets as if they're waiting to hear how I respond. “All I can tell you is that I didn't take anything from Willow Twine. And I don't know what's going on.”

Both of these statements are true. The photos belong to me, and I don't know why Rex took them.

“They're saying you climbed a wall to get off Willow's property,” someone says.

The answer to that one comes so quickly it surprises me. “The wall around Willow's house must be twelve feet tall,” I reply. “Look at me. You really think I could climb something like that?”

A couple of the paparazzi chuckle as if they realize how ridiculous the idea is, even though that's exactly what I did do. The cameras stop flashing.

“I'm sorry, guys, really,” I tell them. “I hate to have to tell you that you're wasting your time. I'm not the news. I'm just one of you.”

Looking disappointed, they lower their cameras and switch off their video equipment. The crowd starts to disperse. Davy lingers behind the others, waiting until they're gone. When it's just my dad, him, and me, he asks, “So, how was it? I mean, hanging out with Willow for a week?”

“A real eye-opener,” I answer.

Davy gives me an arch look, as if he's smart enough to know how many different meanings that answer could have. I step a little closer and lower my voice. “I promise I'll tell you the whole story when I can, okay? But I'm not news. I'm really not.”

“Okay, kid,” he says. “And well, anyway, welcome back.”

New York Times

HOLLYWOOD STARLET STABBED TO DEATH
Willow Twine, the actress, singer, and idol to millions of preteen girls, died from stab wounds this afternoon inflicted by an apparently deranged man who accosted her on the sidewalk outside a popular Rodeo Drive eatery.

Police said Ms. Twine, whose real name is Jane Ellen Hutter, had just left Encore Django when she was approached by the man, tentatively identified as Richard C. Hildebrandt, who thrust a nine-inch knife into her chest. Hildebrandt was quickly subdued by Ms. Twine's bodyguard, and police were called, but an EMT who was on the scene said later that the actress expired before the ambulance arrived.

“There was massive internal bleeding,” said the EMT, who
asked not to be identified because he was not authorized to speak on the record. “If I had to guess, I'd say that the knife must've severed her aorta.”

A spokesperson at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center would say only that despite emergency surgery, Ms. Twine could not be revived.

Word of Ms. Twine's untimely death spread quickly on Twitter, with several websites reporting the news within minutes. Tearful, heartbroken fans soon began to gather at the restaurant with flowers, framed photos, notes of tribute, and candles for the young actress. Most expressed shock and dismay that anyone would want to harm the young woman. . . .

San Diego Union-Tribune

UNIDENTIFIED TEEN DIES IN HOSPITAL
Mexican authorities reported today that an unidentified male teenager died yesterday at General Hospital in Tijuana as a result of what doctors said was botched plastic surgery performed at an unlicensed cosmetic-surgery clinic.

Authorities believe the victim, whose age was estimated at between fifteen and eighteen, is an American. They are asking the public for help identifying him.

Doctors reported that the victim was brought to the hospital emergency room by an unknown person who told a nurse the man had gone to the Tijuana clinic for calf implants. The person then fled before police could question him.

Doctors said the victim died from gangrene caused by a massive infection. No identification was found on the body, and no further information was available.

YOU LEARNED OF WILLOW'S DEATH WITHIN MINUTES OF IT HAPPENING
. But it will be weeks before Avy's parents report him missing, and another month will pass before he is identified as the nameless young man who died of an infection in a Tijuana hospital.

The news of Willow's murder was broadcast, tweeted, blogged, and printed everywhere. Fans around the world held candlelight memorials. Dozens of video elegies sprang up on YouTube. Movie stars, politicians, and others were quick to grab the spotlight to bemoan her passing.

The news of Avy's death will come in a phone call from a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Tennent's. She will tell you that Mrs. Tennent would like you to attend her son's funeral.

You will see Nasim at the service. Back in late March, when you returned to school after spring break, numerous “friends” were eager to tell you that Nasim had started seeing Shelby Winston. And then Nasim confirmed it. Of course you were hurt, but, to be honest, by that point not completely surprised. It wasn't only because he'd sent one short e-mail over spring vacation. Really, you'd sensed for a long time that you were losing him, and even while you tried to patch things up, you were preparing yourself for the worst, especially after you got the feeling something might be up with Shelby.

I mean, is it completely bent to think that at least it's Shelby you lost to and not some “lesser” female? And, while it would have been much better to have heard about Shelby from Nasim himself rather than from other people, what's done is done. You will feel hurt and angry, but deep down you also know you have to blame yourself as well. Like Nasim intimated the night before you left for LA, maybe if you hadn't been so obsessed with your career, things would be different.

Except for a few of Avy's cousins, you and Nasim will be the only young people at the funeral. Even though Avy and Nasim were friendly, they were never really good friends, and seeing Nasim at the service will both sting and remind you that he is a good person, the kind of person who will come to a funeral even when his presence is not expected. School has ended for the summer, and
many of your classmates will be off to summer homes, or on teen tours or family trips to faraway places. Most of the small crowd at the church will be family and friends of Mr. and Mrs. Tennent's. You will wonder how many of them really knew Avy.

You and Nasim will not sit together, but after the ceremony you will find yourselves standing near each other on the sidewalk, watching as family members get into black limousines to follow the hearse to the cemetery. The burial itself will be private, for close relatives only, so you will be spared falling apart when that polished dark brown mahogany coffin is lowered into the earth.

The hearse and limos will pull away and meld into the traffic, leaving you and Nasim on the sidewalk. It will be the first time you will be face-to-face since he told you he was seeing Shelby, and you'll be filled with turmoil and contradictory emotions. You'll want to tell him how angry and embarrassed you were at having to hear about Shelby from others, and at the same time you will be tempted to suggest getting a cup of coffee and catching up, yearning, really, to tell him how much you miss him. But will be too late for that.

“How are you?” Nasim will ask.

You will shrug. What will there be to say, really? About Avy? About you? It's all changed.

“And you?” you will ask.

He'll hang his head and look down. “I'm . . . sorry for
the way things turned out, and that you heard from others before I had a chance to tell you myself.”

Your insides will wrench.
Yes,
you will think, that is exactly what you wanted to hear, only now that he's told you, it only makes the hurt of losing him worse.
Such a handsome, honest, charming guy
. So straightforward and unpretentious. You will feel a catch in your throat. “I really have to go. See you.”

You will hurry away down the sidewalk, glad he can't see the tears running down your face.

“I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I FOUND OUT,” CARLA SAID. “BUT YOU HAVE TO swear you won't repeat it to anyone.”

We were in her office. It was early evening and the phone had stopped ringing. Outside it was still daylight. The days were growing longer.

She exhaled a plume of smoke into the air. “It was a setup. Aaron Ives was behind it. He wanted those photos out there for the world to see.”

This makes less than no sense to me. Willow was Ives's biggest client. She was his meal ticket, and probably the only reason he ever got to be as powerful as he was. Had those photos come out, Willow would have violated her
contract with the movie company. She would have been tossed from
The Pretenders
. It would have been the end of her career and Aaron's as well.

Carla saw the confusion on my face. “Aaron was through with her. He knew she was finished.”

“But she had
The Pretenders
.”

“It wasn't enough to salvage her career. If the movie was a hit, it might have prolonged things for six months or a year, but basically she was done. Too old for the kids. They're ready for someone new. And I don't have to tell you who that is.”

Everyone knows Alicia Howard took over Willow's role in
The Pretenders
.

“But even if that's true, it still doesn't explain why Aaron wanted to short-circuit Willow's career,” I point out.

Carla gazed at me with a knowing smile. “What does Alicia Howard want more than anything in the world?”

That gave me pause. “A platinum album? An instantly sold out music tour? A top-rated TV show?”

Carla raised an eyebrow, as if to say,
What else?

Then it hit me. “
The Pretenders?
You mean, Alicia wanted the role, and Aaron Ives needed a new superstar to replace Willow . . .”

Carla nodded. “It was simple. If he could get Alicia the role, she would sign him as her manager.”

I'm stunned into breathessness. The manipulation . . . the heartlessness . . . the cruelty of it . . . And to think that I
was so worried about hurting Willow's career for my own advancement, when Aaron Ives probably never thought twice about sabotaging her so he could sign Alicia.

“No, not unbelievable,” said Carla. “Just another day in show business.”

But there was something else. “Why would Rex—”

Carla chuckled devilishly. “It's funny how everyone thinks that just because you get to be a famous rock star for a while that you must be rich. But it's amazing how fast you can burn through five or ten million. Rexy bought the dream. The big house, the hot cars, diamond baubles for his best girls, the drugs and other party favors for himself and his entourage. And, of course, he never expected to get hit with two major lawsuits for unfinished albums. But before he knew it, not only was he broke, he was a couple of million in debt.”

My insides twist at the implications. “And that's when Aaron Ives came into the picture?”

Carla nodded. “I imagine that in return for those photos, Rex's legal problems would have been resolved, a new band would have been formed, and a concert tour planned. He'd be a rock star again instead of a has-been.” She toyed for a moment with her pen, then gazed searchingly at me. “There's only one thing I don't understand. How did Willow find out about the photos so quickly?”

I could tell by the way she looked at me that she
thought I knew the answer. And I did. Willow knew about the photos because Rex confessed to her. That's where he went when he left me in the kitchen on that clear, sunny afternoon. And why did he tell her? The only answer I could think of was both the sweetest and the saddest—in that moment of clarity he'd realized he truly loved her.