Absolutely Famous(16)
Claustrophobia was never a problem before, but I feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of people surrounding us as we move down the sidewalk to where Bruce is waiting with the Suburban. My hands start to tremble and Drew’s grip on me tightens. I see him check on me with a sideways glance.
Flashbulbs pulse in my face, blinding me as we walk down the uneven brick walkway. My eyes can’t even adjust to the night because of the barrage of lights. Then the yelling starts.
“Sydney! Are you feeling better?”
“Andrew! Where were you when Sydney freaked out the other day?”
“Sydney! Andrew! Are you moving to Vancouver?”
“Sydney, how are your mom and dad? Is it true they’re getting back together?”
“Andrew, are you and Sydney getting married in Vancouver?”
“Andrew, aren’t you dating your costar, Kiera Radcliff?”
To top it all off, the fans are merely squealing in delight to see us in person, making a loud caterwaul the backdrop to a million clicks and questions. They’re freaking out and it hits me that this is the first time Drew and I have been spotted together since the ill-fated premiere.
No wonder they’re going batshit crazy.
I’m annoyed by the last question about Kiera, shocked that someone would even ask it. They’ve never even been seen in public together except the one photo from that night at Verve.
“C’mon, Sydney, walk faster.” Drew urges me on, noticing that I slowed down some. I can barely see or hear him. He lets go of my hand and wraps his arm around my waist, tugging me along as I try not to stumble over the brick sidewalk in my stilettos.
Just as we’re about to reach the big SUV, I see a hand snake in behind Evan to try and touch my naked back. Whoever it is must make contact with Drew’s arm instead of me because Drew flinches and pushes me into Evan’s arms, turning toward the offending party before I can even blink.
“Put her in the car!” he shouts, his narrowed eyes searching out his prey.
“Drew! Don’t!” I try to stop him but Evan is already lifting me into the back seat of the Suburban, planting himself in front of the open door to keep people out and keep me in while we wait on Drew.
My poor, fragile boyfriend and his razor-thin temper has had enough and snapped. I peer around Evan and see Drew furiously trying to get his hands on a man in his mid-twenties, pointing at him and yelling as Steve wedges his large body between them the best he can. As bulky as Steve is, Drew certainly isn’t small. He’s taller and pretty ripped, and he’s downright pissed. Angry Drew is not someone to mess with, I’ve seen him before and he’s terrifying.
Like right now.
“Don’t evah fuckin’ touch her again or I’ll beat the piss outta you!” I hear him yelling over the clicking of the cameras.
Crap, full Boston accent, Angry Drew has left and Very Angry Drew has made his appearance. Suddenly, the crowd falls quiet, no more questions are being asked, no more fans screaming. Everyone is trying to see what’s going on in the center of the undulating mass.
“She’s a hot piece of ass, Forrester! You can’t just lock her up forever,” the fan replies, taunting Drew, believing there’s no way big celebrity Andrew Forrester would attack him on the street in front of all of these people. He’s so wrong. Drew’s favorite pastime is Muay Thai or Ju-Jitsu or something that involves fighting in a cage. I watched him spar a few times, he’s scary as hell.
Drew acts like he’s going to walk away, letting Steve relax his hold on him. Then, faster than I thought possible, Drew spins and jumps at the man, shoving him against the brick wall of the building behind him and pinning his arm across his throat. The guy’s eyes bug out, partly in surprise and partly because Drew is pushing his elbow up against his windpipe.
“She’s not a fuckin’ piece of ass, shithead. Come neah her again, you bettah be prepared to fuckin’ fight me,” he growls.
Steve claps Drew on the shoulder and pulls him toward the car, murmuring something in his ear. He reluctantly releases the man and stalks away. The crowd parts willingly this time, no one wanting to be caught in the fury of Andrew Forrester.
Holy fuck!
Evan moves out of the way and Drew throws his body into the backseat, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Drew,” I start to say, putting my hand on his arm.
He shrugs me off and stares out the window. “Not now, Syd.”
Tears prick my eyes and I slide across the seat, putting as much distance between us as I can. He’s never shut me out before, this is bad. Really bad.
The car pulls into the hotel’s underground parking less than ten minutes later. The elevator ride is just as silent as the car, only with all five of us squashed into one tiny metal box instead of a spacious SUV.