Extremely Famous (8 page)

Adam’s eyes flicker over to me, then back to Drew. I just stand
rooted in place, unsure what to do or say that won’t make this situation worse. “This isn’t over Forrester,” Adam says as he turns and walks away. Drew tries to follow but I cling to his hand, not letting him go after Adam unless he wants to drag me across the room.

“Can we go somewhere else now?” I beg, afraid that he’s about to lose his shit. Drew is rigid, his free hand fisting at his side. He slides it into his pants pocket to hide it from the gawkers and pastes on his approachable Andrew Forrester face. I’ll discuss him deciding who I can and can’t be friends with some other time.

Great. Another public incident for the press to spin
.

“Your dad is coming back this way,” Drew tells me, his voice strained. He’s still massively pissed off and I don’t blame him. That was a bullshit move for Adam to pull.

“Hey guys, sorry about abandoning you,” my dad says as he joins us.

“No problem Daddy, we know that you’re working.”

“So, ready to grab our seats?” he says cheerfully.

Thank God he didn’t see the near blowup between Drew and Adam. Alt
hough, knowing how my dad always was, he’d probably jump right in and join Drew in pummeling Adam, fists flying first and asking questions later.

Drew and I
put on our fake smiles and follow my dad into the theater, pretending everything is just wonderful.

Thank God the next few days are uneventful. I don’t think either one of us could take much more drama at this point.

We haven’t heard anything else about the source of the death threat. The authorities are still investigating, but they haven’t said if it’s still valid so we’ve been sticking close to Drew’s brownstone, dragging one of the guys with us if we need to go anywhere.

Drew was in a shit
ty mood the entire night of my dad’s premiere and the next day too, still stewing over his encounter with Adam. I tried to talk to him about it and let him know that he won’t be dictating who my friends are, but he just grunted and muttered something about an ‘asshat’ and a ‘fucking douche’ so I let it drop for now.

Tonight, we’re going out and it couldn’t come at a better time. I’m sick of being trapped inside. Leah and Ryker are meeting us at Pinnacle, a new organic farm-to-table restaurant that Drew has been dying to try out. He’s not happy about leaving the safety of home, but he’s climbing the walls here too.

Drew hasn’t had a whole lot to do in terms of work. He’s been reading scripts and arranging some financing for future projects, but doesn’t have any acting coming up until October, after the press tour for
Mind of the Enemy
is done. Because we’re leaving next week, I haven’t been able to work either. I can’t take on a project knowing that I’ll be gone for two weeks with Drew, so needless to say, we’re both bored.

“No, later than that would be good.” Drew comes into the bedroom where I’m getting ready, talking to someone on the phone. “Right… Perfect…” When he heads into the closet to grab his clothes my phone chirps from the nightstand. I don’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“This is Agent Connors from the FBI, am I speaking to Miss Sydney Tannen?” the authoritative male voice says.

“Yes, this is she.”
Please let this be good news.

“Miss Tannen, would it be possible for you to come down to our headquarters tomorrow to discuss the recent case involving the threats against you?”

“Ummm,” I glance toward the closet where Drew is still talking on the phone. He would definitely not like us being paraded down there like a circus act.

“We could always come to you if it’s more convenient,” Agent Connors offers before I can say anything.

I exhale a huge breath I had been holding. “That would be great. It’s not exactly easy for us to go out anywhere these days.”

“Okay, does ten tomorrow morning work for you?”

“Yes, that should be fine.”

He rattles off Drew’s address to verify where to show up and gives me his phone number in case anything changes and hangs up.

“Yep, bye.” I hear Drew disconnect his call as I walk into the closet to tell him about the meeting.

“Did he say if it was good or bad?” he asks after I relay the details of the phone call to him.

“No. Just if we could meet. I didn’t think you’d want to go down to Federal Plaza, so they’re coming here.”

“Smart thinking,” Drew says. He finishes buttoning his white collared shirt and tucks it into his dark gray pants, while I stand there staring like an idiot. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s smiling at me with a wicked look in his eye. “Like what you see Miss Tannen?” he asks, repeating what he said when he caught me checking him out back when we left for the trip to St. Bart’s.

I step over to him, almost tall enough in my four inch heels to look him in the eye. I lean in and lick his delicious dimple, “Always, Mr. Forrester. Always.”

I
had wanted to walk the two blocks to Pinnacle. Drew threw me an incredulous look and called Bruce without responding to me. When we emerged from his underground garage, I realized it’s a good thing he didn’t listen to me. I thought the throng of reporters would have gotten smaller by now but no such luck.

Drew’s neighbors must hate us with all of the attention we attract. It’s a testament to how good a driver Bruce is that he doesn’t crash the SUV with all of the flashbulbs in his face.

Drew turns to me and smirks as we make our way through the clamoring masses. He doesn’t need to say
‘I told you so’
to convey his thoughts.

We barely have time to get comfortable in the car and we’re pulling up in front of the restaurant. It’s a Wednesday, so it’s not as
crowded as it could be, but because the restaurant is fairly new, having only been open a few months, it’s not exactly empty either. Leah sent me a text while we were in the car to let us know that they were already at our table.

Evan hops out of the front seat and gets my door, watching the sidewalk the entire time. Drew gets out behind me and takes my
hand, leading me inside.

He
approaches the hyperventilating hostess and puts on his Andrew Forrester persona. “We’re meeting someone here,” he says smoothly. “Last name Caldwell.” He gives her a very convincing plastic smile and she practically chokes on her tongue.
Nice
. She partially composes herself and leads us to our table. I do my best to ignore the whispers and cell phones that follow us as we walk through the dining room.

The hostess shows us the way to Leah and Ryker, who are seated in a tall booth in the back of the room. I slide in and Drew sits next to me. She manages to
tell us to have a nice meal before leaving us to go have a heart attack in the kitchen.

E
van sits at a nearby table instead of planting his giant body in front of us. I’m glad, because it’s too embarrassing to have him right there even if he does block some of the photos. The attention and stares he garners isn’t worth it.

“Hey,” I say as I sit. They know better than to stand up for hugs, it draws too m
any eyes and cameras.

“Syd!” Leah squeals, at a lower decibel than usual. Being with Ryker has taught her a thing or two about being discreet.
Thank God
.

“Drew, Sydney, good to see you again,” Ryker says, smiling. He’s just as adorable as I remember, all tousled, slightly too-long hair
, and boyish good looks.

“Hey Ry
.”

“Leah,” Drew says to my best friend. “Ryker, how’s it going.”

“It’s going man.” The boys immediately dive into a detailed discussion about the upcoming final month of baseball, Ryker being a Yankees fan doesn’t do much for Drew, but they somehow manage to be friends despite the rivalry.

“Syd,” Leah says quietly, leaning over the table to talk to me. “What the hell happened at you
r dad’s premiere?”

“Huh?”

Wow, intelligent response Syd.

“
The blogs posted a story about a …” She pauses and glances at Drew before continuing. “A story about a fight between you know who and you know who else,” she says cryptically.

I blanch, not sure what to say next. “Don’t say anything to Drew,” I whisper.

“Of course not.” She leans back in her seat. “But you’re telling me what happened tomorrow.”

I roll my eyes at her and laugh. We eat and drink wine and have a great time, the mood only brought down when I tell them about the call from the FBI.

“I hope they caught that fucker,” Leah says.

“Yeah, me too,” Ryker chimes in.

“So Ry, what’s next for you?” I ask him, wanting to change the subject. He just finished filming the second movie in a trilogy based on a popular set of books. His career is smoking hot right now, so I’m sure he must have something booked between trilogy films.

“Actually…
” Drew interrupts. He and Ryker exchange a mischievous look. “We wanted to surprise you ladies.”

“What?” Leah asks, her face scrunched up in confusion. I just stare at them blankly, a million things running through my head.

“My next film is called
Breaking the Truth
,” Ryker tells us.

“Yeah, so? I already knew that,” Leah says.

“Wait a minute. That sounds familiar to me. Drew, doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“Yeah babe, it’ s my next film,” Drew says. Both men have total shit-eating grins on their faces.

“Holy crap!” Leah screams, her penchant for busting eardrums back full force, causing the patrons at the twelve closest tables to stare at us. Maybe she didn’t learn to be discreet as well as I thought.

“Leah!” I admonish her, but I can’t stop the giant smile
on my face that just won’t go away. “Drew, is that the one that films here in the city? The one in October?”

“That’s the one,” he says proudly.

“Finally, some great news,” I say.

“How long have you guys known about this?” Leah asks them. I lean my chin on my hand and wait for the answer.

Ryker has the grace to at least look a little embarrassed, Drew, not so much. He sits there grinning. “Ummm, about six weeks,” Ryker says.

“What?
” Leah squeals again.

“Jesus Leah, do you want the entire press corps down her
e or what?” I hiss. I face Drew. “So you’ve known since just after Boston.”

“At the ball we may have discussed a project I was producing and I may have mentioned a casting problem I was having and…” Drew begins.

“He pretty much begged me to do it,” Ryker chimes in, taking a huge swig of his beer.

“Right. Maybe not exactly like that,” Drew laughs. “Anyway, what do you think ladies? A movie starring us two idiots. Would you go see it?”

They both give us their best movie star smolders and we crack up. Leah snaps a pic of the guys on her phone and I look at her. At the same time we both say, “Definitely!”

We finish dinner and I’m so happy. This is the best night I’ve had in a while, and I get to see my best friend a lot in the coming weeks. As we head for the exit, Leah and I chat about possible plans for when the boys are filming together.

Someone in the restaurant must have posted our whereabouts on the internet, because when we get to the door there’s a huge, screaming mass of Ryker’s fans waiting outside, as well as a bunch of reporters looking for Drew and me.

“Shit,” Drew curses under his breath when we get to the door.

“It’s pointless to go around, they’ve already seen us,” Leah says angrily. For someone who reads the gossip rags regularly and therefore contributes to this crap, they sure do piss her off when her boyfriend is the target.

Drew turns to Ryker,
“Evan can’t stop all of them, and you really need to invest in some security.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ve been in denial about all this crap,” he says miserably.

I study Ryker’s face and see fear in his eyes. His face is pale and he’s nervously rubbing together his thumb and forefinger. I’ve heard about the intensity of his fans, but this is my first experience with them unless you count the ones we dodged in a pub in London.

Evan
gets into position at the door. “Bruce is at the curb waiting,” he says.

The hostess is standing a few feet away, stunned into silence. I think her eyes might pop out of her head and roll away they’re so wide right now. She must be new to the city if
this shocks her. Then I notice half of the staff is stopped dead behind her, watching the strange scene play out. I guess fifty screaming teenagers and young women and dozens of paparazzi jostling for position isn’t something most people see every day, even in New York.

“We’ll drive you two home,” Drew says to Leah and Ryker. “There’s no way I’m letting you attempt to get a cab.” He glares at Ryker again
. “Maybe a driver along with that bodyguard?”

He takes my hand and pulls me in close and Ryker does the same for Leah. Drew nods at Evan and he opens the door.

The shrieking sound of the fangirls is painful once the glass separating us is gone. The instinct to cover my ears is only halted by Drew’s tight grip on one of my hands.

“Get back!” Evan shouts from somewhere in front of me. I literally can’t see a thing. Between the constant flashbulbs in the dark night and the surging
horde of people pushing against me, I’m lucky just to stay on my feet.

“Jesus,” Drew mutters. “This is fucking insanity.” He grips my hand tighter and pulls me in front of him.

I turn to look for Leah only to get hit in the face by a flailing arm. I put my hand up to my cheek and check for blood.

“What the fuck!” Drew yells, but no one can hear him over the screaming.

“I’m fine!” I yell back.

“Evan!” Drew calls out to the burly man in front of us. I feel Drew push me towards him and Evan helps me up into the SUV.

“Thank God,” I say, turning to speak to Drew. My mouth falls open when I realize that he’s not there. I’m alone in the car with Bruce.

Holy crap!

I scoot back over and look out the window. Drew is going back to help Ryker and Leah. Ryker is completely surrounded by screaming women and poor Leah is clinging to him, scared to death. Evan and Drew can’t get to them with the hysterical fans packed in so tight. Someone is going to get trampled.