Absolutely Famous (25 page)

I hustle him over to the front desk and greet the elderly man who checks people in. He hands us a clipboard with a bunch of papers to fill out and directs us to let us know when we’re done.

“I’m sorry,” I say to the tiny man, “Is there any way we can fill these out in a more private area?”

“Sorry luv,” he says with a heavy Scottish brogue, “Fill ‘em out here and bring ‘em back.”

Great, this guy has no clue who Drew is and doesn’t seem to understand why we can’t sit in a waiting room with a hyperventilating fangirl.

“We really need to be in a more private area, I’m begging you,” I whisper so Drew can’t hear me. I turn to look at Drew and see that he’s sitting with Evan
, staring at the floor.

I look back at the fan and notice that she has her cellphone out to take a picture. I spin o
n my heel and stalk over to her. “Hey! You can’t do that in here! It’s against the law not to mention rude.” She lowers the phone and scowls at me, but makes no more attempts at getting a picture. Hopefully, I caught her before she snapped one since I have no clue if it’s against the law or not.

I walk b
ack over to the man at the desk. “See? We can’t be out here, he’s pretty recognizable.” I jerk my thumb towards Drew.

“You don’t say?
” The white-haired old man.says. “Who’s that again?”

I sigh.
“Andrew Forrester, he’s an American actor.”

I hate using his name to get what we want, it goes against everything I grew up despising, but I can’t let that girl take pictures of him like this.

“Hmmm, let me get the nurse for ya luv.” He stands up and totters off to fetch someone for me.

Seconds later the door bursts open and a pleasant looking middle-aged nurse in green scrubs comes out. Her eyes widen as she takes in the odd group in the lobby, then her professional demeanor takes over a
nd she introduces herself to me. “Hello, I’m Kathryn. Come with me please.” She steps back and holds the door open as we all file through.

“Thank you Kathryn
. That girl was trying to take pictures.”

“She was, was she?” Kathr
yn responds, narrowing her eyes. “Well, we don’t tolerate that kind of behavior here. Everyone deserves their privacy.” Her hostile tone suggests that she’s seen the cover stories about us.

We’re put in a room to wait for the x-ray technician, so I fill out the paperwork the best I can. Drew can’t hold a pen right now with his writing
hand all puffed out and purple.

Moments later someone comes to get Drew and
Evan goes with him while Steve and I wait behind. They come back after less than five minutes and Drew flops down into a chair and stares off into space.

The chirping of my phone seems
extra loud in the quiet room. I’m about to answer it when the doctor enters with Drew’s x-rays. I silence the ringer and stuff my phone back in my purse.

“Well, well
, well! I’m Dr. Bradford,” he says cheerfully. “Tell me what happened.”

Our bodyguards slip out of the room and close the door.

Drew looks embarrassed to tell the doctor about his injury. He stares at the floor and rubs the back of his neck with his good hand. “I uh, punched a wall. Several times.”

Drew’s admission doesn’t
even faze the doctor as he sticks two dark sheets up onto the lightboard and points to a spot on the x-ray. “Seems you’ve got brawler’s fracture,” he says, turning to Drew and removing his reading glasses. “You Americans call it a boxer’s fracture, I believe.”

“Okay,” says Drew. “So what does that mean?”

“It’s a fracture of the fourth metacarpal bone. The ring finger, but where it extends down in your hand, not up in the actual finger.”

“So you have to cast it?” I ask the doctor.

He smiles. “No, it’s only got a hairline fracture, see?” He puts his glasses back on and points to the broken bone. “I’ve seen guys come in with this one completely split in half. Requires surgery if that happens.” I pale at the thought of surgery, and the doctor looks back at me, smiling again. “No worries dear, this is very minor. You won’t even need a cast,” he says to Drew. “I’ll be right back.” The doctor gets up and leaves the room.

“So that’s good, right? No cast and no surgery,” I say to Drew, taking his good hand and squeezing it.

The doctor comes back and sits on a rolling stool, scooting it over in front of Drew. He takes his injured hand and examines it carefully, turning it over and looking at both sides. “Tell me if you can feel this.” the doctor says as he takes a paperclip and untwists it, poking it onto the end of each finger.

“Yes, I can feel that
.”

“It’ll hurt, but I need to see if you can flex your fingers.”

Drew hisses, but is able to move each finger.

“Good, no nerve or tendon injuries then.”
Flipping his glasses up onto his head, the doctor reaches into his pocket and straps a black splint onto Drew’s hand, restraining the two smallest fingers as Drew winces in pain.

“There, that oughta do
it. Ice it several times a day, wear this for a week, longer if it’s still painful, but no more than two weeks. You’ll need to move your hand as soon as you can to keep the muscle tone up.” He spins his chair around and pulls a prescription pad from the desk, scribbles furiously on it then tears off the top sheet and hands it to me. “Pain medication. Codeine and paracetamol, you call it Tylenol with Codeine in the US. Three days’ worth, though you probably won’t need that many, then switch to plain paracetamol or ibuprofen.” He makes a note in a manila file and shuts it, turning back to face Drew. “No more punching solid objects, yes?”

Drew frowns, then agrees.
“Right.” He stands up to shake the doctor’s hand, gripping it firmly in his right hand. “Guess it’s a good thing that I’m left-handed so I can properly thank you,” he says, allowing a small smile on his face.

Dr. Bradford shakes Dre
w’s hand and slaps his shoulder. “Good thing indeed.” He turns and removes the two x-rays from the lightboard and hands them to me. “Better to just take them with you so they don’t end up on the telly,” he jokes. “I trust the staff unequivocally, but you never know.”

“Thanks doctor.
” I shake his hand and place the x-rays in my bag.

“Well,
ring me if you need anything while you’re still in town. If you’re here in two weeks, feel free to stop by and I’ll look at your hand to be sure everything’s healing properly. Just not on Tuesday or Thursday mornings,” he says. “Surgery days for me I’m afraid. Just see Becca on your way out and she’ll get you done in a jif.” He picks up the chart and leaves the room.

“Well that was quick,” I say to Drew as we head out to the checkout desk.

Becca seems to know exactly who is coming to see her because her cheeks are flushed with excitement and her eyes are filled with what I can only describe as awe. I whisper to Steve to go out to the car with Drew and that I’ll finish up here with Evan. They leave and Becca’s expression falls as she watches Drew go.

“
I know. Disappointing, isn’t it?” I say sarcastically. Normally, I wouldn’t be rude, but I can’t give a shit right now. Becca is very unhappy with me, scowling as she finishes the paperwork. I pay the bill with my business card, sign the slip, and head out the door.

Back at the hotel, I give Drew a couple of painkillers and after a short debate he relents and takes them. He must be hurting because he hates taking
any medicine stronger than ibuprofen.

I pull out my phone and listen to the message that Rhys left while we were at the clinic.

Jesus, Sydney. I can’t fucking believe this. Sorry, didn’t mean to swear. Okay, shit. Oops, well, anyway. Jane told me to write up a press release for Drew and to run it by you, let me know as soon as you can if I should change anything. Here it is,

Due to the serious legal aspects of an ongoing investigation regarding illegal listening devices in several different hotel rooms in multiple countries, Andrew Forrester and Sydney Tannen can only say how saddened they are to find that their privacy has been violate
d in such an egregious fashion.

They would like to thank all of their fans and friends for their support and well wishes and will be cooperating with law enforcement to unravel this conspiracy. Due to the legalities, no further comments can be made in reference to this case by any of the parties involved. All questions
should be directed to the proper authorities at the Sacramento office of the FBI, where the lead investigators are located.

Okay, is that good for you Sydney? I hope it’s alright that I put in a word for you too. Anyway, uh, call me.

Wow, Rhys is freaking out. He’s usually such a smooth talker; I’m not used to hearing him flustered. This has got everyone all tied up in knots. Not wanting to spend an hour on the phone, I decide to text him back that the statement he came up with is fine and he can release it as is. He texts me back almost immediately.

Rhys <
Will do, how’s Drew?>

I type out a rapid response.

Me

A few seconds later I get another text.

Rhys

Well, that makes sense I guess.

Me

Rhys <
Will do, Sydney.>

I call Allie and leave her a message explaining what’s going on and ask her to call her parents. Then I call my mom and leave her a similar message. Everyone’s out for the day
and not picking up their phones. I’m grateful. I don’t feel like talking about it anymore.

I go into the bedroom and
find Drew lying on the bed with his eyes closed. I kick off my shoes and lie down next to him, careful not to bump his hand which he has resting on his abdomen. I curl up into his side and rest my head in the crook of his good arm. He curls his arm around me and gently strokes me with his fingertips, from my shoulder to my elbow and back.

I decide that I’m done discussing this crap for now. I’ll wait until the lawyers and investigators make me rehash it. Instead, I try changing the subject.

“So, tell me about this charity ball that you do every year.”

“What do you want to know
?” At least he’s talking again.

“What’s it like? Who goes to it? How much money do you raise?”

He chuckles, “You don’t want to know much now do you? Well, I don’t plan any of it. Usually, the Grady’s handle it with the event planner on their staff. It’s been on the Fourth for as long as we’ve done it. That’s Mike and Matt’s birthday.”

“That’s nice
.”

“Yeah. We invite all of the big players in Boston, the mayor, hospital presidents, the governor, different athletes …”

“Oh, will some of the Red Sox be there?”

“
Most of the time only the retired players make it, since there’s always a ballgame on the Fourth and it’s usually a night game. This year it falls on a Friday which has an afternoon game, so some of the current players will probably come.”

“Wasn’t Trevor Caldwell on the Red Sox and is now retired, therefore not playing on the Fourth?” I ask, grinning up at Drew.

“Why yes Miss Tannen, I believe he is,” he responds with a huge smile. Thank God, Drew is back.

“So I might get to meet
the
famous Trevor Caldwell? Catcher extraordinaire and keeper of disgusting hats? The inspiration for our alias wherever we go?”

D
rew shoots me a fake dirty look. “Watch what you say about my guy.”

“Oh, I’m completely serious.” I put a dreamy look on my face an
d bat my eyelashes ridiculously. “Maybe he’ll give me a nasty-ass hat and then we can go outside and practice ‘catching’ together.”

Drew sits up and s
tares at me, his eyes darkening. “You’re not going ‘catching’ with anyone but me,” he growls. Leaning over, he kisses me. “Now get me some food woman, I’m hungry!”

I laugh and get out of bed.
“Good thing I know how to order up some takeout like nobody’s business.” I go to grab the menu to that Indian restaurant.

“Hey Syd?
” Drew calls out as I reach the bedroom door.

I turn to look at him.
“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

I just smile, not needing words to convey how I feel about him.

Chapte
r 27

“We’re done!” I tell the workers after the last bottle of alcohol is put in its place behind the bar.

The crowd of thirty or so employees, from contractors to wait staff to cleaning crew all cheer as Violet Thompson uncorks a bottle of champagne and starts to fill the flutes that line the long, curved bar. Three bartenders open more bottles and soon everyone is toasting the completion of Vertigo.

Oliver stands on the first stair leading up to the VIP section and clinks his glass with a small screwdriver from his tool belt. Once everyone is quiet and focused on him, he speaks. “Ladies, gentlemen, I’d like to thank everyone for their hard work and dedication to completing this project not only on time, but a week ahead of schedule!”

He pauses as the group sends out another round of cheers.

“I’d especially like to thank Miss Sydney Tannen,” he raises his glass toward me, making my neck and cheeks heat up when all of the eyes in the room turn my way. “For her dedication to our hotel, even in the face of extraordinary and ummm, shall we say interesting personal issues. You still showed up every day ready to work your arse off to get this nightclub done. So I’d like to propose a toast, to Vertigo, may your clientele be as fascinating as those of us who built you! Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

“To Vertigo!”

I sip my champagne, waiting for Oliver to head my w
ay. It doesn’t take long. He ends his conversation with the contracting foreman and walks over to where I’m standing by the bar.

“We did brilliant,” he says as he approaches, a giant smile on his handsome face.

“Yes, yes we did,” I reply, holding up my glass. He gently clinks his glass to mine and we sip our champagne.

Oliver’s animosity towards Drew disappeared when the news came out about the studio collaborating with Kiera Radcliff to tape our conversations and break us up. He actually apologized for his behavior and realized that he shouldn’t have
believed what he read about us.

Not wanting work to be as awkward as it had been, I forgave him and pushed to move past the strained atmosphere that had been surrounding us whenever we had to work side-by-side.

“I’m sad to be leaving London though. It’s so beautiful here. And despite what may have happened, I still have a lot more anonymity here than I have back home,” I tell Oliver.

“Are you sure you can’t stay for th
e opening night party, Sydney? It would be a shame for you to miss it after all of the hard work you put into the club.”

I twist my lips into a p
out. “I didn’t have such a great time at the launch party in New York.” I recall the disastrous night almost four months ago and shudder. “I think that nightclub parties are not really my scene. Plus, I have to be in Boston in five days to go to a charity fundraiser.”

“Nightclu
b parties aren’t your scene?” Oliver says laughing. “Then why have all the red-tops been spotting you and your friends at every hot club in the city over the last two months?”

“Oliver, I didn’t think you were reading those
gossip rags anymore.”

He actually blushes when I bust him. “Well,
right, you got me, though I don’t read the tabloids. Only the section of the newspaper on London life. They profile the local hotspots. I may have noticed your name a time or two… or five.”

“Well, what can I say? Ma
ybe I am a party girl after all.” I laugh and finish my champagne. Placing my glass on the bar, I turn back to Oliver. “I have to go finish packing, you be good now.”

“Right, not a problem then since I’m always good.” His steel gray eyes dance with humor and he leans in, giving me a hug.

I return the brief hug, then step back and smile. “Bye Oliver.”

“Bye Sydney.”

I say goodbye to Violet and the other workers, giving out a few hugs and cheek kisses, then meet Evan at the stairway and head back to the room.

“Done?” Drew asks as I come into the kitchen.

“Yes, finally.” I walk over to Drew and let him wrap his arms around me. “I’m ready to go home. Eight weeks in London after a month in Vancouver … I miss my bed.”

“My bed is wherever you are,” Drew says sweetly, kissing me gently and threading his hands up into my hair. “We can’t go home yet, we still have to see my
old
home first.”

“I can’t wait, babe. Are you excited to go back to Boston
?”

“More than you know, Syd. More than you know.”

After a quick snack I throw the rest of my stuff into my suitcase and snap it shut. I already mailed two huge boxes home. Richard or one of the concierges will put it in my loft for me so it will be there when I get back.

Drew comes into the bedroom and grabs the handle of my suitcase, tugging it off of the bed. “What the heck did you pack? Rocks?”
His grin gives me a perfect view of his gorgeous dimple.

“Yes Drew, rocks. British rocks. Lots of them. I hope that’s okay with you
? Should you be lifting that with your hand? You’ve only been out of the splint for two weeks.”

“It’s fine Syd, feels great.” H
e brings the suitcase over to the foyer while I walk to the living area. The tabloids were brutal when they saw that Drew broke his hand, calling him the
“Hollywood Heavyweight”
.

So stupid.

His mom called and gave him hell for punching a wall, telling him he should be able to express himself in a more mature fashion. Not likely.

I stand in front of the floor to ceiling windows and look out at the Thames River, winding through the heart of London and right past the Warren Hotel. The murky water reminds me of the Hudson back home, snaking past the piers and out to the Atlantic. Neither river the most beautiful in the world, but both flowing past two of the greatest cities ever built.

“You okay?” Drew asks from behind me.

I turn to face my future
. “Yes, let’s get out of here.”

The Delta VIP lounge at Heathrow Airport is bright and open, everything you
don’t
want when you’re traveling with an internationally known movie star and three giant bodyguards covered in neck and arm tattoos. Drew and I grab a couch by the windows and I try to ignore Steve and Sal, who sit in a couch directly opposite us, and Evan, who sits on the couch behind us with his back to ours.

Exhausted, I curl up into a ball and snuggle into Drew’s side, not really caring who sees me at this point. I’m not doing anything wrong and New Sydney doesn’t give a shit if someone feels that taking a picture of
us is a good use of their time.

Drew has his earphones on and is watching an early cut of
Mind of the Enemy
, the movie he filmed in California after we got back from St. Bart’s.

Drew makes it hard for me to get comfortable, since he cringes every time he sees himself on the screen. I have no idea why he doesn’t like watching his films, he’s one of the best actors I’ve ever
seen, and I was raised by two of the best. My mom is a lot like Drew. She refuses to watch any of her own films, sneaking out of every single premiere she’s ever gone to before the opening credits even finish.

He
turns off his iPad and takes the headphones off, placing everything in his carryon bag.

“Tired?” I ask, yawning as I say it.

“Nah, it’s only seven, Syd. I’m just sick of watching my ugly mug.”

“You really hate watching yourself, don’t you?”

“Can’t stand it. It’s like watching the biggest phony I’ve ever known.”

“Anyone who knows you, and I mean really knows
you
Drew Forrester, not Andrew Forrester, knows that you are far from a phony. Personally, I think you’re the most real and honest person I’ve ever known. That’s one of the things I love the most about you.”

He smiles and
gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “My honesty? That’s what you love the most?” His suggestively brushes the knuckles on my hand across the front of his jeans.

I pull my ha
nd back and roll my eyes at him. “You’re terrible!” I laugh.

“I know,” he says grinning.