Extremely Famous (14 page)

“I don’t feel well
.”

He knows I’m full of
shit. His observant eyes are studying my face, trying to get a read on my emotions. Fortunately, whatever he sees makes him think twice about arguing with me.

Frowning, he faces the front of the car.
“Alright. Bruce, we need to swing by the hotel first.”

“No problem,” Bruce calls out from the front seat.

I’m glad that Rhys and Jane are in the car behind us and not here in the SUV to witness this. It’s bad enough that Sal, Steve, and Bruce can pretty much hear everything we say. I’m so sick and tired of having an audience for everything I do.

We don’t say another word to each other for the rest of the ride to the Four Seasons. Bruce pulls the car in front and waves off the valet. Drew hops out and helps me down from the SUV, his hand lingering on my hip. He starts to say something to me but changes his mind, closing his mouth before making a single sound.

I watch dejectedly as he climbs back into the SUV and they pull away from the curb without a good-bye or even a glance in my direction. When I enter the hotel, I realize that Drew was so focused on being angry with me that he didn’t remember to call and let Evan know that I’m back and I’m by myself.

Holy shit
I’m free!

Alone to do whatever I want without asking permission or having someone with me at all times. I
can’t help but grin as I step into the elevator and head to the suite, trying to decide what I want to do with my freedom first.

I shed my dress and heels and throw on a pair of old denim cut-offs and a tank top, stuffing my feet into a pair of flat sandals. I hurry into the bathroom and pull my hair into a knot on the back of my head and stuff it up into one of Drew’s less-disgusting baseball caps. Scrawling a note on the hotel stationary, I leave it on the table by the door so Drew won’t think I wa
s kidnapped and call the police. I don’t need a repeat of Vancouver.

I take the elevator down,
just about bursting from excitement when I hit the bottom floor. Dashing across the lobby I tell the doorman that I need a taxi right away. It must be my lucky day, because one pulls up almost immediately and I jump in. I want to drive the McLaren and even consider doing it for a moment, but even I’m not that impulsive. I don’t have a driver’s license, plus, I don’t think I should be turned loose in traffic with other people yet.

“Santa Monica Pier
, please,” I say to the driver, smiling from the back seat.

“Sure thing.
”

I sit back and watch my former city pass by, memories surfacing randomly when I spot a familiar place. We pass a restaurant that my parents used to frequent and I remember how the staff would always make me a special dessert that wasn’t on the menu. I see a shopping mall that I used to go to with my friends, we’d hang out there for hours gossiping and looking at clothes. My favorite ice cream shop passes on the left and I recall all of the times that Robbie would jump out and get me a scoop of mint chocolate chip.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I let each suppressed memory surface, the pain stinging me like a tiny cut. Dozens of individual cuts, from each of the parts of my childhood, slice my body as we drive through the city. The experience is excruciating, but cathartic. I’m glad I’m able to do this without the humiliating presence of a bodyguard while I’m falling apart.

I
let my thoughts wander and before I know it, the taxi has stopped in front of the beach. I see the giant Ferris wheel in the background, just as I remember it.

“Thanks,” I say to the driver, handing him some money.

I wander over to the pier, taking in all of the sights and sounds of the amusement park; the cotton candy, the popcorn, the bells from the games. Grinning, I remember the day my Dad took me here. We had to bring a bunch of bodyguards to keep other people away, but we had a great time eating and playing games and riding the rides. He won me a huge pink elephant that I used to have in my bedroom.

Kicking off my shoes
, I walk across the warm sand until I find a quiet spot away from the other beachgoers. I sit and stare at the ocean, digging my feet in and relaxing. I spent so much time at the beach when I was little. Even though we only lived a few miles away, my parents had a second place on Carbon Beach. We couldn’t exactly lay a blanket down on a public beach and hang out, so they bought another home just so we could spend sunny days playing in the water and digging for shells.

I dash away a tear and rub my eyes tiredly. Exhausted from
the emotional day, I lean back on the sand and close my eyes. The crashing waves lull me to sleep almost instantly.

****

“Look Mommy! I made a castle!” I point at the small mound of sand covered in seashells that I built all by myself.

“That’s wonderful sweetie! Here comes Daddy, make sure you show him,” my mom says.

I put my hand up to block the sun so I can see my Daddy. He’s getting out of the ocean and walking towards our chairs.

I run down to him and grab his hand. “Daddy! You have to see the awesome castle I made,” I say proudly, tugging on him to go faster.

“Whoa, slow down Heartbreaker! You’re going to make me fall down!” I know Daddy is joking because he’s laughing. Also, he’s too big for me to pull down. I’m eight and a big kid and all, but I’m not
that
strong.

We get up to where Mommy is sitting and I point to my castle. “See Daddy? Isn’t it great?”

“Wow Sydney!” Daddy gets on his knees and looks at what I built, studying it closely. “It’s perfect.” I look at my dad and see him grinning at me.

“Mommy, he says it’s perfect,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“It is baby,” she tells me, smiling at my dad and me.

“Let’s build some more,” Daddy says to me, grabbing a bucket and filling it with sand.

We make an even better castle. Daddy even makes a moat around it so no one can attack the princess that lives inside.

I dash down to the water to rinse off and
look for some more shells. I find a lot of good ones, and stick them in my bucket so I don’t lose them.

“Sydney!” I hear my Mommy’s worried voice calling to me. She only sounds like that when something’s wrong.

I look up at her and see Daddy heading toward me, angry. Did I do something bad?

“What Daddy? I didn’t do anything wrong, I just got some shells. I promise!” I cry out, afraid that Daddy’s going to yell at me.

“C’mon Heartbreaker, we have to go.” He’s mad, I can tell by his voice. He takes my hand and leads me back toward the chairs.

“Why Daddy? I didn’t do anything bad! We just got here!” I whine. We never
get to do anything as a family. I don’t want to leave yet.

“You didn’t do anything baby.
” Daddy doesn’t stop though, he keeps pulling me along.

“Daddy, you’re going too fast.
” I can’t keep up and trip on the mounds of sand.

He turns and scoops me up into his arms, holding me tight against his bare chest. I drop my bucket in my efforts to hold on to his neck.

“My bucket!” I scream, trying to wriggle down so I can get it back.

“I’ll get you another one Syd, don’t worry about it.”

“I want that one! Why are we leaving Daddy?”

As we get near my
Mommy, I hear the horrible sound of cameras clicking.
They
found us, that’s why we have to leave.

I turn and see at least twenty men with giant cameras surrounding my mom and coming at us, clicking and yelling the entire time.

I tighten my hold on my Daddy, afraid of the huge, loud crowd of strangers.

“Daddy
, I’m scared,” I whisper.

“Don’t worry Heartbreaker, I’ve got you,” he says to me, holding me as close as he can.

They descend on us, forming a tight circle, forcing my Daddy to slow down so he doesn’t smash into them.

“Move!” he
yells, attempting to worm his way out of the swarm of photographers so he can get our stuff.

“Reid, let’s just go. I’ll
send Robbie to grab our things.” My mom starts shaking as the crowd opens up to swallow her, trapping us in the center of the chaos.

We
slowly make our way to the house, still a good ways up the beach from where we are. The paparazzi yell at us the entire way.

“Sydney! You look like you’re having fun!”

“How’s the beach today Sydney!”

“Evangeline, what’s your next project?”

“Reid, will you ever make a movie with your wife?”

“Does Sydney want to be an actress someday?”

“Get away!” Daddy roars at them. I cower against his neck, scared to see him this mad and scared of how close the men are to us.

I watch them trample my sand castle and start crying, tears running down my face freely even though I’m not supposed to let them see me upset. I hate them. I hate this. I never get to do anything because of them. They ruin everything!

Still crying, I feel a tug on my leg and see a man pulling on me, aiming his camera at my dad, wanting to catch his violent reaction when I fall down.

His touch makes me hysterical.
“Daddy! Daddy! He’s touching me!” I wail in fear as I begin to lose my grip on his neck.

Daddy holds on to me even tighter, and tries to spin away from the man
who is holding on to my leg, but the man won’t let go and my ankle twists around painfully.

“Ouch! He’s hurting me Daddy!” I scream in terror.

“Reid, what’s happening?” Mommy asks, her voice cracking from the stress.

It happens so fast that I
don’t see my Daddy move. The sound of the man’s nose breaking is unmistakable though. A sickening crunch followed by the release of my leg. When my dad pulls his closed fist back to swing again, time seems to stop and I watch the second punch happen in slow motion.

The man falls to the ground, clutching his face as blood gushes between his fingers.

“Don’t ever fucking touch my daughter again!” he roars, standing over the man and glaring for a moment before continuing towards the house.

Hiding my face in his neck again so I don’t have to see the blood that splattered up onto us I can only think one thing, I really hate
being Sydney Tannen.

****

Damn!
Apparently, coming back here didn’t just bring back the good memories from the beach. I sit up and shake the sleep from my head. Feeling the prickly heat of too much sun on my skin, I get up and head back to the pier. My shoulder has been aching all day but I refuse to let Drew see me in pain. Since he’s not around I let myself wince and rotate it a few times to loosen the joint.

I had been hoping to put my childhood horrors to rest by visiting a place that used to make me happy.
It seems as though my favorite spots were also places that harbored bad memories. I’ve just chosen to either forget them or repress the hell out of them.

I take one last look at the wide expanse of sand and the ocean beyond and climb into the waiting taxi, leaving that piece of my life behind for good.

Worn out emotionally, the taxi drops me off in front of the hotel in the late afternoon. I had him drive past my childhood home, well, past the gates anyway. I have no idea who lives there now, but notably absent were the random fans that loitered out front every day when I was a kid. They were such a fixture in my life that it was strange to see the street in front of the gate empty.

I pull my hat down low as I enter the hotel, but
I don’t fool the astute doorman. “Welcome back Miss Tannen,” he says as I pass.

Great, that means someone could have recognized me while I was out. Oh well, I can’t control all that crap anyway. I have enough problems right now. Drew’s probably pissed that I left without taking one of the guys with me.

I enter the suite and find it empty. My note is still there, so hopefully I haven’t been discovered leaving without one of the bodyguards. Then I get angry at my own thoughts. Why should I have to worry about Drew getting mad because I went out?

Because you promised not to go out alone, remember?

I whip out my phone to tell Leah about my emotional day, but the door to the suite bangs open before I can dial.

“Syd?” I hear Drew
yell from the foyer.

I close my eyes and press on my temples for a minute to calm down.
From the sound of his voice I’m guessing he just realized that he left me alone all afternoon.

“Syd!” He’s
upset.

“In here!” I call out from the bedroom.

“Thank God,” he says when he comes in and sees that I’m all right. I don’t miss the quick assessment that he does with his eyes, checking me for I don’t even know what. Bruises? Cuts? Tattoos? I’m not fucking helpless.

“What?” I snap.

He flinches back as if I slapped him.