Relatively Famous (26 page)

Chapter
39

We’re both nervous wrecks in the back of the limo as we ride to the theater. Quentin is with us as is Jane and Drew’s director of PR, Rhys Porter. Rhys has been yammering on the phone for the entire twenty minute drive, barking out instructions to whatever poor assistant is on the other end of the call. We’re crawling along in a line of vehicles, inching up to the entrance of the theater.

I’m trying to hide my worsening stomach ache from Drew. I don’t want to ruin today with some stupid pregnancy ailment or stomach flu. That’s all I need is to get to the theater and have diarrhea or something awful like that. That
would be just my luck though, especially since Drew won’t be wearing his hideous lucky hat to the show. If he wore that gross thing on camera, a million fantasies would die on the spot. I mean, I love the hat, because I love Drew. But anyone who doesn’t know him well enough to know how special that hat is, would run in the other direction as soon as he put it on.

Rhys disconnects the call and addresses me and Drew. “So, we’re the last to arrive. Drew, you get out first, and help Sydney from the limo.” Drew looks at him sharply, as if he didn’t already know to help me out. “Then Quentin and I will walk behind you, to make sure you have space and no one gets too close. Jane will walk in front of you to help get you to each reporter that we promised an interview to.” Jane
nods so he turns his gaze to me. “Sydney, you can join Drew for some or all of the television interviews, it’s your choice …”

Drew interrupts sharply.
“She’s staying with me the entire time.” He looks at me. “I don’t want you leaving my side. Not for one second. It’s going to be an absolute shitstorm out there with us together. No way will you be where I can’t see you.”

“Drew, it’s up to Sydney …”

“Rhys, it’s not up for fuckin’ discussion. That’s it.” His voice is turning Boston; he’s starting to get pissed.

I put my hand in his, “I’ll stay with Drew,
it’s fine. That’s what I want anyway. I’m too nervous to not be with him.” Rhys calms down some and nods his consent.

Quentin
leans forward and pats my knee, which earns him a scowl from Drew that he ignores. “You’ll do fine, Sydney. I mean heck, you were literally born to do this!” He smiles and sits back as the limo reaches the front of the line. Poor Jane just gives me a sympathetic smile, certainly feeling the waves of anxiety coming off of my body.

We come to a stop in front of the theater. I take a deep breath, wincing from the pa
in in my belly. “Are you okay?” Drew asks, eyeballing me suspiciously. I’m sure I look pale and scared.

“Of cou
rse, your fans are waiting babe.” I give him a big fake smile. I might as well start faking it now, since I’ll have to do it for the next thirty minutes straight. He gives me a sour look, like he doesn’t quite believe me, but he turns and exits the car when the door is opened.

The roar from the crowd when Drew steps out is deafening. His family so is lucky that they got to skip this and go straight inside.
Flashbulbs are firing off in a rapid staccato. Drew waves then ducks down and extends a hand to me.
Here we go, don’t fall down
. I take his hand and he guides me out of the car.

Holy
mother-effing crap!

If I were claustrophobic I’d be dead by now. The carpet is wide, but it’s sur
rounded wall-to-wall by people with cameras. In random places, workers are directing the guests to the different interview areas along the edges. Behind the swarm of cameras are bleachers full of screaming women. Hundreds of them. Waving papers and photos of Drew and signs,
Marry Me!, Mrs. Forrester!, I Love You!,
and all of that garbage.

I get hit in the face by the bright lights and people start screaming even louder. I thought this was a tiny independent film!
The magnitude of Drew’s celebrity is starting to sink in.

Drew threads his fingers with mine and smiles at me, his Andrew Forrester face ready to go. Leaning down he whispers in my ear, “I love you baby, let’s do this.” He squeezes my hand and we begin to walk.

The sharp eyed reporters closest to the car figured out who I was the second I exited the limo. I hear “Sydney Tannen”, “Sydney Tannen is the redhead”, and “that’s Sydney Tannen” exclaimed up and down the line of photographers. That causes the already frenzied crowd to up their excitement to subatomic levels. Great, they now have a name for their ‘mystery woman’ from the incident at Verve.

Every two or three steps someone asks us to pose for them. Each time, Drew puts his arm around my waist and either smiles for
the camera, or smiles down at me. I do my best to just smile and not look like a pregnant girl in pain.

A few lucky fans have scored spots along the red carpet, and Drew
greets them politely with his Andrew Forrester the actor persona and signs their papers and poses for a few photos with them.

He
tilts his head down to me again. “You doing okay, Syd?” I just keep smiling and nod for him. I don’t want anything I say to him to be overheard by anyone.

People are screaming my name now too. Begging me to pose for them or look at their camera, or even sign their paper
s. I’m not signing any autographs, it’s too weird. I just wave instead. Jane guides us to the first interview showing us where to stand. I have no idea how the reporter is supposed to ask us anything, it’s just so loud with all of the screaming. Drew puts his hand on my lower back and we move into position next to a super skinny blonde woman who wears way too much makeup.

She introduces herself and what show she’s from and starts throwing questions at us. Who am I wearing? How did we meet? Am I the unknown female from the club? Was I dating Adam Reynolds? Have I seen the movie yet? Before she can even ask a single question about the film, we’re pulled away by a girl with an earpiece and continue up the carpet behind Jane. Drew clenched his jaw and squeezed my hand too tight when the Adam question came up.

He’s never going to let that go.

By the time
we finish the step and repeat and we’re almost to the end of the carpet, I’m exhausted. My face hurts from smiling so much, and my abdomen is killing me. We’ve done about five interviews and posed for thousands of photos.

Drew wanted to avoid the whole are they or aren’t they dating speculation, so he told me he planned to kiss me in front of the cameras when we reached the end of the red carpet.
Go big or go home, typical Drew style. I think he just wanted to kill any talk of me dating Adam Reynolds, but this is his premiere, so I’m going along with what he wants even though I prefer not to have our private moments captured on film.

He turns toward me and gently squeezes my hand, the signal he gave me so I
would know when he was going to kiss me. Drew puts one arm around me and pulls me in close. He brings his other hand up to caress my face. I notice the Andrew Forrester mask is gone and I have my Drew back with me. The crowd starts to scream even louder than I thought was possible. He leans down and presses his lips to mine softly, keeping it tame for the cameras. Drew ends the kiss and grins at me, and I can’t help but grin back.

Chapter
40

Drew is amazing on film. It may have been twelve years since I’ve seen a movie, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tell the difference between great and brilliant. And my boyfriend is brilliant.

A Soldier’s Burden
is about an Army Ranger, Roger “Rogue” Hillston, and how he struggles to deal with the friendly fire death of his best friend by another man in their regiment. I am captivated by the powerful emotions he gives Roger. Drew is so beautiful up on the huge screen that I can see why women love him so much. He’s rugged, intimidating, and handsome as the tormented soldier.

Truthfully, if I had seen him like this before meeting him, I would have been too scared to talk to him. He’s literally and figuratively larger than life.

Drew keeps a death grip on my hand for the entire screening. He seems stiff, almost nervous for me to see his work. Or maybe he’s like this for every premiere and just hates watching himself on film. My mother loathes watching herself to the point that she used to sneak out after the lights went out. Drew has nothing to be nervous about, the movie is enthralling and his performance is captivating.

When the credits begin the audience jumps to its feet and applauds loudly, people whistling and cheering. I try to stand and clap right along with them, but the shooting pains are impossible to ignore any longer.

I was so absorbed in the film that I had been able to push my stomach pain out of my mind for two hours. But now, as the director begins to thank the crowd and start his speech, I realize that the pain has intensified significantly.

“Drew,” I whisper in his ear, “I need to use the ladies’ roo
m. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

He grabs my wrist.
“I’ll come with you,” he says quietly but firmly.

I give him an exasperated look
.

I can’t go to the bathroom by myself?

“No, you have to speak next. Five minutes, I’ll see you out front.” He looks unhappy, but he knows he can’t leave the theater. He offers me a stiff nod and a frown and reluctantly releases my arm.

I give him a quick peck on the cheek and duck out, grateful that we were able to request seats near the back. The other stars are sitting front and center, but I wanted to be up near the doors in case I had an anxiety attack from walking the red carpet with Drew. I
needed to be able to slip out unnoticed.

I cross the empty lobby as
fast as I can in a floor length gown and stiletto sandals. A chilling feeling creeps down my spine and I break out in a cold sweat, my nerves taking over. Just as I push through the door to the women’s bathroom a sharp pain shoots through my abdomen and leaves me bending over, breathless
.

This is not good
.

I squeeze the tears from my eyes and duck into a stall, leaning against the wall for support. It takes a frustratingly long time to get my gown out of the way so I can use the toilet. When I stand up, I see blood. Not a lot, but any blood is enough to send a paralyzing
wave of fear over my entire body. Not a stomachache.
My baby. Drew’s baby
. I need to get to him, now.

I burst out of the bathroom, sweating and almos
t doubled over from the pain. I’m sure I look dreadful, but I don’t care. All I can think of is getting Drew to take me to the hospital to save our baby. A disheveled older man stands in front of me, blocking my way to the theater.

“Sydney, are you okay?” he asks, getting uncomfortably close.

“I need to get…” Another shooting pain takes my breath away. I groan and put my hand on my belly.

The man touches my arm and I get the creeps. Even in my distress, I register that something is off. How does he know my name? I
know this man, but from where? I watch as he pulls out a knife and slides it into my side, clutching me in an embrace as he eases me down to the floor. Strangely, my first thought is how he’s not dressed nicely enough to be here.

I sink to my knees and fall back on the carpet with him and hear him whisper, “I’ve never stopped loving you, Sydney.”

I can’t manage any words. I see a bright light around his face dim to nothing.

Chapter
4
1

I need to turn off my alarm clock. The beeping is giving me a headache. When I try to roll over I feel a sharp burn in my arm. Reaching over to rub where it hurts, I find tubes and tape around my elbow.
What the hell?

I try to open my eyes, but they feel heavy and sticky, like they’re glued shut. I wipe them with my unrestrained hand and look around. It’s dark in the room, but there’s a small light glowing next to my bed. Wait, not my bed, it’s a hospital bed. Then I remember; the cramping, the movie premiere, the blood… the creepy man. I let out a cry and try to sit up.

Pain! Intense pain!
That’s my only thought. It overrides anything else in my brain.
Make the pain stop!

“Shhhh, Sydney
, you have to stop moving honey.” I feel strong arms gently push my shoulders back into the pillow. Drew is here with me, he’ll make the agonizing pain stop.

“My side hurts,” I moan, panting from
the discomfort. “Can’t breathe.” Drew caresses my face and kisses me on the forehead, combing back my sweaty hair with his big hand.

“I know it does sweetie, relax. I’m getting the nurse.” I vaguely register that he’s pressing a red button on the side of the bed.

A middle aged woman in pink scrubs comes rushing into the room and straight over to the machines on the side of the bed opposite Drew. “You’re awake,” she says brightly. “I’ll check you real quick and let the doctor know.” She starts reading the beeping screens and pushing buttons. I can’t help it when another moan escapes my lips as she lifts a bandage on my right side, just below my ribs.

“She’s in pain, give her something!” Drew snaps at her
in a loud voice.

His tone breaks me from my agony and
I swing my head around to face his side of the bed. I take a good look at him. To say he’s a mess is to go easy on his appearance. He has a day’s worth of stubble on his handsome face, his eyes are wild with dark circles underneath, and his hair is sticking up in all directions. He’s coming unraveled. I can see it happening right in here in this hospital room. This must be what Leah saw when he couldn’t find me after the party at Verve.

“
It’s right here, Mr. Forrester,” the nurse says patiently. She removes a syringe from her pocket and puts it into the tube on my arm. “There, you should feel better already,” she says as she tosses the used needle into a red bucket.

Yes, yes I do feel better, and sleepy
.

“I’ll just go get the doctor sweetie,” she pats my hand and leaves the room.

I must have fallen asleep after the nurse came in because it’s light out now. I’m able to get a better look at my surroundings. I know I’m in a hospital, but it looks more like a posh hotel room with a hospital bed in the middle. There’s a white board on the wall opposite me that says Cedars-Sinai Medical Center at the top, and my nurses’ names scrawled underneath. There’s a big screen TV in the corner of the room, a massive dark wood entertainment center around it. Next to that is an open door that leads to what looks like a guest bedroom. I can see that the bed in there is unused.

Drew is sleeping on the
tiny couch next to my bed. He’s lying on his stomach with his face smashed into the cushion and his legs falling off the other end. He looks so miserable, and it’s my fault. I didn’t tell him about the stomach cramps, wouldn’t let him go to the bathroom with me at the theater.

I suck in a sharp breath and cringe in pain from the memory. My baby! The worsening pains all day, the blood in the toilet, the cramping, what happened to my baby?
Our baby, a piece of me and a piece of Drew. I start panicking and crying hysterically, clawing at the blankets to see between my legs. The baby has to be okay!

“Syd, what are you doing? You’re scaring me.” Drew is awake and attempting to calm me down. He doesn’t want to hurt me by forcing me down, but he doesn’t want to let me thrash all over the bed either. He’s just standing there with his hands on his head, unsure of himself, looking as if he might literally pull his own hair out.

“Stop it, Sydney! You’re hurting yourself.” I’ve twisted around so much that the I.V. has come out of my arm and is hanging on my skin by a piece of tape. I don’t care, I need to know. Drew must decide that he can’t watch me so distraught anymore because he wraps his hands around my wrists and holds me to his chest as I sob.

“The baby?”
I cry softly.

I hear Drew crying with me and I know.
Our baby is gone.