Suddenly Famous

Copyright © 2014 Shelbyville for Heather Leigh

All rights reserved.

First Edition, License Notes

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

Red drops splattered onto a red carpet. Red on red, so dark it all blends together. No one else notices it.
I
notice it. Some days, it’s all I can see. Thick, wet splotches falling in a trail, going from the red carpet onto the stark white pavement.

Blood. Now that it’s falling on white, I can tell that it’s dark red blood… spreading out slowly in a gruesome slick across the sidewalk.

Other people have become aware of the blood. I won’t be alone now. I won’t be the only one who can see the horrible red stain.

Even with the background noise, the hysterical screaming and panicking of the crowd, the clicking of the cameras and the pop of the flashbulbs, I hear the low groan from a few feet away.

“You didn’t love me, Ryker. Look what you did.”

Cold, clammy hands wrap themselves around my throat, making it difficult for me to breathe. My fingers clench tight on my knees, and I say a silent prayer that I won’t pass out. Air seems to be having a difficult time getting to my lungs, causing an uncomfortable burn in my chest.

“Ry, are you okay?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and slowly count. By the time I reach five, the choking sensation is gone, and my body is able to get enough oxygen to clear my head. That’s a new record. Previously, I’ve counted all the way up to twenty before I was able to regain my composure.

As the car stops, I open my eyes to see my best friend and assistant, Brittany Abbott, staring at me in concern.

“I’m fine. No fans at this event, right?” Britt nods, her pinched expression unchanged. “Okay, no fans then. I’m good.”

“This is not healthy for you, Ryker. If you don’t want to go inside we can tell the driver to take us back to your apartment. Fuck Tasha and her publicity shit.”

I smile. My best friend is so protective of me. She’s the only person I trust implicitly, which I have since the fourth grade when we first met during a heated game of dodgeball. “No, I’m okay. I promise. Just residual from, you know, the incident at the premiere.”

Brittany shudders and presses her mouth into a tight line. We don’t talk about the incident, ever. I shouldn’t have said anything.

A hotel employee opens the door and waits for us to exit the car. I roll my neck to loosen up so I won’t look stiff and uptight in the photos. Tasha will kill me if they don’t get good shots.

All in a day’s work, right?

I take a deep breath, still feeling a slight twinge of pain compressing my chest, and step out of the car. Questions are rapidly fired at me from all sides, like rounds from a machine gun. Flashbulbs pop non-stop, temporarily blinding me as I help Britt exit the car.

“Ryker!”

“Oh my God!”

“Orion Donovan! I love you!”

“Marry me Ryker!”

“Lilly’s a bitch!”

The background noise for the litany of bizarre, rude, and sometimes very graphic questions, is a continuous high-pitched wail. Everywhere I go, no matter where it is, there’s that shrill caterwaul. I can’t escape it. Not since the first movie in the
Quantum Stranger
series was released last month.

Unfortunately, I am the star of that series. My agent, Diana Watts, found me sitting on a curb outside of one of her photo shoots. I had just finished having dinner with my family, celebrating my younger sister’s birthday, and she wanted to watch the shoot, which was happening right outside the restaurant. While I was waiting for my parents and sisters to get tired of watching Reid Tannen have his picture taken, she approached me.

One very brief audition later, I was cast in one of the most anticipated films in history and became an overnight obsession for every human female over the age of twelve.

My face projects calm as I smile and pose for the paparazzi along the red carpet. I refuse to let them see me lose my shit. I may be a fucking nervous wreck on the inside, but no one will ever know that by looking at me. As long as I make sure to keep my hands in my pockets, the tremors in my hands are invisible.

“Ryker! I love you!”

“Over here Ryker!”

“Team Orion forever!”

The shouting from the fans that cluster behind the rows of paparazzi doesn’t diminish for a single second. I stop for a few more photos in front of the step-and-repeat before gratefully ducking inside the lobby. My pulse is racing, making me somewhat lightheaded. I shake it away before the anxiety can take hold and focus on the present.

“Mr. Bancroft, this way please.” A young woman in a hotel blazer with an earpiece and a clipboard leads Brittany and me over to a set of roped off elevators. “Hi Alec!” The perky employee greets a very large man who is standing watch over the express elevators that go directly to the top of the hotel. “Mr. Bancroft and his guest are cleared.”

Alec nods his head and pushes a button, causing the elevator doors to open right away. We step in, and Miss Perky hops right on in with us.

“It’s my job to take you up and make sure you get to the club okay,” she babbles nervously. “I really love
Quantum Stranger
, you know. I’ve seen it five times already.”

Great.
I thought there were no fans at this thing.

“Thanks,” I say, managing to gather enough enthusiasm to not sound like a complete jackass. Maybe a partial jackass, but definitely not a complete jackass.

“You really are the perfect Orion,” she continues cluelessly. “They couldn’t have done any better than you.” The elevator glides to a stop, and I practically jump out. Britt follows, and I notice that Miss Perky is going back downstairs.

Thank God for small miracles!

“Nice to meet you! Bye!” She calls out. The shiny doors slide shut, and she’s gone.

“Well, they really know how to pick them,” Britt mutters. “They probably found the single worst employee in their entire staff to be handling all of the celebrities tonight,” she snorts.

“Agreed. At least she kept her hands to herself,” I remind Britt.

“Yeah, at least there’s that.”

A man in formal clothing with a nametag that says Gabe greets us in the foyer of the club. “Mr. Bancroft, Miss Abbott, welcome to Verve at the Warren Hotel. Please don’t hesitate ask for anything you require at any time.”

“Thanks Gabe,” I shake his hand as we enter the new nightclub.

The Warren Hotel revamped and rebranded the nightclub in their flagship New York City location. Wanting to attract the most attention, they invited all of the hottest celebrities in entertainment. Because our film broke box office records around the globe and is a worldwide cultural phenomenon, they invited Lilly and me.

After the incident, Lilly Danville, my costar, and I don’t make appearances together anymore. Not unless they’re official studio events. Lilly backed out of this one, not wanting to leave her home in L.A. Since I live in New York and was already in town, I was nominated to attend, bringing Brittany with me instead.

“I’m so glad the music isn’t super loud. We’ll be able to have actual conversations,” Britt says as she accepts two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. “Here, take one.” She passes one to me and takes a sip. “Mmmmm, that’s good stuff. No cutting corners or going cheap tonight.”

I chuckle, “With the clientele here and their high class tastes, I’m sure nothing but the best would be good enough.”

“True,” she agrees. “Well, I’m going to mingle. There are a few people that are supposed to be here that I want to catch up with. You’ll be okay on your own?” Brittany watches me carefully, making sure I’m not going to fall to pieces on her.

“I’m fine, Britt. Go.” I gently turn her away from me and give her a tiny push.

“Don’t be so pushy, Bancroft. Or I’ll tell everyone here the dodgeball story from school.” She winks at my horrified expression and disappears into the thick crowd.

I shake my head and smile. Brittany has been my best friend for so long, she’s like a sister to me. That’s why I hired her to be my personal assistant. She’s one of very few people I trust implicitly. The others include my parents, who have their own jobs, and my two little sisters, Ruby and Reese, who are fourteen and sixteen.

Britt was an outcast like me back home. We lived in a very well off area of Los Angeles. Neither of us had the wealth that our peers did. I only lived in my neighborhood because my parents inherited the house from my grandmother, who bought it in the 1950’s. Britt’s family lives in one of the very few middle class houses in our entire district. Our lack of money made us undesirable to have as friends by most of our school.

We didn’t need them, we did just fine on our own.

“Hey man!” A large hand lands on my shoulder, and I jump in shock, almost dropping my glass of champagne.

“Shit!” I grab a napkin and brush off my hand and arm where the drink spilled out when I flinched.

“Sorry,” he says.

Angry with myself for being so easily frightened, I look up to see who startled me. “Do I know you?” This is the worst part of being famous. People come up to me all the time, knowing my name and who I am. I never know if I’ve met them before or if they’re just fans, so it’s always awkward.

“I’m Drake, Drake Collier.” He sticks out a hand, and I shake it, glad that it’s not the wet hand that he’s clasping.

“You sing, right?” I ask.

“Yep, country and some rock. Just released an album.” Drake leans back onto the nearby bar, casual and completely comfortable with himself and his surroundings. I find myself oddly jealous of him, because I’m nearly always a nervous wreck in public, especially crowds as large as this one.

“I’ve heard some of your stuff, it’s good,” I tell him.

“Thanks. I’ve seen your film too. They did a great job on it. Too bad about that girl, huh? That was some crazy shit.”

I tense up and can feel myself shutting down. This is one of the reasons I had for not wanting to be here tonight. I have no desire to relive that day.

“I don’t like to talk about it,” I say firmly. Drake’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t push the issue. A woman on his other side snags his attention and I use the distraction to escape.

Fuck!
Tasha had said I should get counseling after what happened. Even my parents called and told me to talk to someone. I went twice and quit. I just can’t. It’s too much. I can’t even think about the incident without feeling like I’m suffocating, so how can I possibly discuss it with a therapist?

I’m seriously considering texting Brittany and telling her I’ll see her tomorrow when I spot a stunning blonde in a tight black lace dress dragging her reluctant friend directly towards me. I haven’t had a conversation with a female I don’t either know or work with in a while. I don’t trust that I won’t be practically assaulted by a stranger. That’s left a pretty big dry spell in the flirting and sex department, and God this girl is hot.

You’d think I could get laid whenever I want, which is probably true, but who wants to have sex with a girl who is freaking out over the fact that she’s meeting “Orion Donovan” and having fangirl fits the entire time you’re trying to make small talk? No thanks. My hand and I are better off alone.

I glance back over to the blonde. She’s at this party, so she most likely isn’t a shrieking fan. She walks right up to me as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, and introduces herself.

“Hi, I’m Leah,” the blonde says. She gestures towards her frightened looking friend, “and this is my friend Sydney. She designed the club, do you like it?”