Absolutely Famous(8)

Once I’m alone in my room, I walk over to the full bar and pour a huge shot of fancy tequila, slamming it back quickly before my trembling hand can spill it everywhere. Then I do another and make a face. I call room service and ask for a bucket of ice and some lime wedges to be brought up, ASAP. I put down the phone, knowing that this is a bad idea.

Fuck it!

A rapid knock at the door lets me know my room service is here. Damn, they’re fast. A young man pushes in the cart and hurries out without a word after taking note of my sweaty, panicked state. At some point, I remember that I didn’t check who was at the door before opening it, then just as quickly realize that I don’t give a shit.

Screw Drew and his rules.

I scoop up the bottle in one hand, wiping my mouth with the back of my other hand and put it on the cart. Pushing it in front of me, I grab a cashmere throw off of the sofa and step out onto the huge private patio overlooking the city street down below. Falling onto one of the soft outdoor couches I wrap up in the warm blanket.

This is my life now. I throw back another shot.

Everything I hated as a child, all of my fears coming true. The crowds of people, the paparazzi, the lack of anonymity; everything multiplied by a million because of the attack at the premiere, who my boyfriend is, and who my parents are.

If I were in a better frame of mind I’d find it funny that none of the attention has anything to do with me. It’s all by association. I used to only be famous because of my relatives, but after today, I absolutely have some fame of my own. And I hate every bit of it. I scowl and pour another shot and watch the afternoon pass.

I have no idea what time it is when I hear someone enter the suite.

“What the hell is going on here, Sydney?” Drew shouts from the door to the patio. He stalks over to the outdoor couch I’m sitting on and picks up the half-empty bottle of tequila, holding it out in front of my face.

“Hey! What’s with you? Tequila, Sydney?” Drew is standing in front of me with his brows drawn together and a frown on his beautiful face.

When did it get dark?

“Dreeeewwww,” I sing to him. “You’re so sssexy. Comeandsitwithmeeeeeee.” I slur my words and reach for his hand. His body goes rigid and his perfect mouth falls open in shock.

“You’re drunk? Why?”

“Dunno.” I shrug. “Some guy said he luuvves me. Hey! You luuvve me don’t you sssexy Dreeeewwww?” I attempt to pull him down onto me on the couch but I may as well have been a soft breeze blowing on him. He doesn’t budge an inch.

Damn he’s big. And smoking hot.

A disgusted sneer takes over Drew’s face. “Who said they love you?” he asks menacingly, slamming the tequila bottle back onto the metal room service cart with a loud clang.

I throw my hands up. “ I Dunno. One of the people. Lots and lots of people… with cameras.”

“Cameras,” he repeats then whips out his cell phone and pushes a button.

“What happened.”

“Why wasn’t I called?”

“No, everything. I don’t care!”

Drew stomps around the patio and runs his hand through his hair, making it stand up in every direction.

“Yes, I do know why! You don’t need to know.”

“Right.” He clicks the phone off and stuffs it into his pocket.

“C’mon baby, you’re going to bed,” Drew bends down and slides his arms under me, lifting me as easily as if I weighed nothing.

“Oooohhh, are you going to bed with meeee?” I tease, kissing Drew’s lips and raising my eyebrows.

“No baby, you need to sleep, and I’m getting you more security.” He steps through the doorway of the patio and walks into the bedroom. Drew lays me down on the bed and pulls the covers up over me. “I love you, Sydney.”

I may or may not mumble something back to him right before I fall asleep.





Chapter 5



My head is going to explode. Drinking half a bottle of tequila? Not the best idea I’ve ever had.

Drew is sitting next to me in the back seat of the dark SUV while I clutch my giant cup of coffee as if it’s my lifeline. Bruce and Steve ‘the Narc’ are sitting up front. Maybe I’m being a baby about the whole thing, but Steve didn’t have to tell Drew about the panic attack or the crowd of people at the store yesterday.

Okay, fine. Drew does pay Steve and he would have seen the photos or videos of me eventually, but still. I’m pissed. More at myself for drinking so much alcohol. Or maybe at that bitch Ashley White from the fancy store. I know she’s the one who Tweeted or Facebooked or whatever people do, to the whole world that I was shopping there. How else would all those people have known to show up?