Suddenly Famous: A Famous Novella (Famous Series Book 5) Page 2

  “Okay. I’ll be right here.”

  “Thanks.” She darts away faster than I thought anyone could move in sky-high stilettos and approaches the tense group.

  I feel like I should help, but don’t want to intrude. Leah asked me to wait here, so I’ll wait. I hate it when people invade my privacy. I don’t want to be the asshole that doesn’t give people the same courtesy. Besides, I have absolutely no idea what’s going on over there, and I’d rather stay out of it if I can.

  I watch as Leah grabs Kiera’s extended hand and looks at something on her cellphone, then shoves it away in disgust. Leah holds her friend’s shoulders, trying to calm her down. I’m no body language expert, but it looks as if Sydney is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. That’s something I happen to know a little about.

  Sydney twists out of Leah’s grip and takes off for the door. Leah follows right behind her, both of them vanishing out of sight.

  “Jesus,” I rub a hand down my face and snag another cocktail off of a passing tray. Never a dull moment around celebrities. I hardly have time to take a sip of my drink before Leah is back at my side.

  “I’m sorry for leaving you, Ryker.”

  Leah is trembling, her eyes moist with tears.

  Shit!

  “Are you okay?” I take her hand and almost pull back from the intensity of the contact with her warm skin. She shakes her head so I lead her over to a private booth and wait for her to sit, sliding in next to her on the bench once she’s settled.

  “What the hell just happened?” I ask. I had heard Kiera and Adam broke up and wonder if that had anything to do with what I just witnessed.

  “Sydney…” she begins, then her mouth snaps shut. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

  “Are you sure?” I don’t want to pry but I don’t want to ignore her feelings if Leah wants to talk.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” She fixes her gaze on me, and those same sparks electrify the air between us. Heat builds in my core, flowing to every nerve ending in my body.

  I gasp, shocked at the power of the connection I feel with this girl. A girl I hardly know. Desperately needing to touch her skin again, I take my hand and cover hers, threading our fingers together.

  Leah exhales sharply, making her perfect lips fall open a fraction. A part of me that I’ve kept buried for the last year comes roaring back to life. The part that craves human contact more than anything else, the part that needs to feel alive with another person, to revel in the energy pulsing between us. Desire stokes in my groin and quickly becomes a raging inferno.

  I skim my hand up her arm and neck, touching her smooth skin wherever it’s showing. I continue up to her face. Taking her chin gently between my fingers, I brush a thumb over her full bottom lip. With a nudge, I tilt her head back so I can see right into those brilliant blue eyes, lower my mouth to hers and feel.

  The loud buzzing of a cellphone rudely interrupts us, making Leah jerk her head away in surprise. She puts a hand to her mouth, still shiny and wet from our kiss, and pauses for a moment. She doesn’t take her eyes away from mine. It’s as if she’s trying to decide if what just happened between us was real or not.

  The angry buzz lets loose again and Leah finally moves, pulling her phone out of her tiny purse. Her face falls when she looks at the screen. “I’m sorry Ryker. I have to answer this.”

  “No problem. Do you need me to leave?” I start to slide out of the booth to give her some privacy.

  “No!” she practically shouts, her free hand grabbing my wrist so I won’t move. I settle back into my seat and she relaxes some, but her eyes are still wide and worried.

  “Hello?”

  I can hear the voice of a very angry male coming through Leah’s earpiece.

  Her response to whoever is on the other end is shaky. “Crap, why don’t I come down and meet with you.”

  The man yells something else and then disconnects.

  Leah slowly slides her phone back into her purse and sits, stunned, not saying a word.

  “Leah? What’s going on? Are you okay? Is that guy going to hurt you?” What the hell is happening?

  She looks at me and her face crumples into a frown. “No, he won’t hurt me. I have to go, Ryker. A friend of mine just got here and wants to talk to Sydney. He doesn’t know she left.”

  Leah indicates that I should move so she can get out of the booth. I stand up and help her to her feet. “Are you in danger?” I ask.

  She laughs, that loud, authentic laugh of hers and puts a hand on my arm. “No, I’m not in danger. Adam Reynolds? He might be, but not me.”

  “You know you aren’t making any sense, don’t you?” My mouth twitches into a tiny smile.

  “Yeah, I know. I might have to leave, do you… well, would you want to trade phone numbers? In case…” she lets her sentence taper off, clearly nervous to ask to spend more time with me. She has no idea that I’d like that more than anything, to have her bright, energetic personality surrounding me. To feel the crackling cloud of electricity that seems to form around us when we touch.

  “I’d love to.”

  When we put our numbers into each other’s phones, Leah smiles. I lean in for one last kiss before she goes. Our lips barely brush when there’s a loud commotion over by the door.

  “Shit, that would be my friend,” Leah says under her breath. “I have to go, call me later?”

  “I can promise you that you’ll be hearing from me very soon, Leah.”

  She smiles right before turning and walking away, headed straight into the raging storm.

  Chapter 3

  “Are we sure this is such a good idea, Britt?” I scan the lobby of my apartment building and then glance out the glass doors to the busy sidewalk. The dark sedan is waiting for us at the curb.

  She seems at a loss for words. “I don’t know Ry. You’re the one who said you’re tired of being cooped up all the time. We’ll be in a private suite, so I think we’re pretty safe.”

  “Pretty safe,” I repeat. I rub my forehead, knocking back my New York Knicks hat in the process. Britt reaches up and fixes it, grinning at me.

  “You told me you always wanted to see a game at Madison Square Garden,” she says. “This is your chance.”

  “I do want to see a game there. It’s not Yankee Stadium, but still.” Britt huffs and rolls her eyes. “Hey!” I chastise her for mocking me. “The old Yankee Stadium had history. This will just be, I dunno, a regular old arena.”

  “A regular arena with luxury boxes that have leather seats and foosball tables and gourmet food, Ry! C’mon, I want to go. Declan is going and so are Rachel and Jess from lighting. No fans. Tasha promised that no one else would be in the suite, plus it has it’s own private entrance.”

  I want to go, more than anything. I’m so tired of being afraid to leave my apartment, of being afraid to be in a crowd. Fuck it!

  “Let’s go.” Before I can change my mind, I make a beeline for the doors and straight to the car. I hop in and Britt slams the door behind us, cutting off screams of the girls who spotted me.

  “Go!” Brittany tells the driver. “Now!”

  The four girls that saw me are approaching the vehicle, shouting my name at the tinted glass. One is already crying, tears running down her face, leaving a black trail of mascara behind. When a hand thumps against my window, my kneejerk reaction is to recoil.

  Jesus! The girl is in the fucking street! Eventually, someone is going to get run over and killed.

  The driver finds an opening in traffic and guns it, leaving the weeping, shrieking girls behind.

  “God! They’re out there almost every day, Ry, I swear,” Britt says. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, “Seriously, do they not have jobs or school to be at?”

  “I think their job is to make my life a living hell,” I say tiredly. “And they need a raise, because it’s working.”

  “Forget them. They’re idiots. Loud and annoying, but harmless.” Britt pats my hand on the seat between us. “So, tell
me about basketball. I’ve never seen a game.”

  I crack up laughing. “Never? How is that possible?” My best friend is perfect. She knows exactly how to distract me and make me feel better.

  “What? Not everyone likes it. Besides, I’ve never been to a game in L.A. Who would I root for anyway, the Clippers or the Lakers?”

  “You really are something else, Britt.” I sling my arm around her shoulders and hug her tight, my obsessed fans forgotten for now.

  “Jess!” Brittany screams and hugs her friend Jessica, a crewmember from Quantum Stranger. We finished filming months ago, so it’s been a while since we’ve all met up.

  “Declan,” I nod at my costar and we exchange a man hug, handshake/backslap thing. “Good to see you, man.” Declan has been at all of the premieres with me, so I’ve seen him as recently as last month.

  “Ry, how’s it been?” It doesn’t escape my notice that Dex winces slightly when he asks his question. The incident is still too fresh. I knew this was a bad idea.

  “Good,” I say tersely. “Everything is good.” My gut churns with a mixture of anxiety and flat-out fear.

  He smiles in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Let’s grab a beer. The game is going to start soon.”

  We walk through the plush suite, past a full bar where we grab a couple of bottles, past an overflowing table of food and snacks, and over to the glass half-railing that overlooks the arena at half-court. I have to concentrate to keep my gait steady, the undercurrent of dizziness and nausea from impending panic threatening to rise up and take me down.

  “Wow,” I exclaim, distracting myself by studying the arena. “That is a great view.”

  “We can sit down there too,” Declan says. “There’s a door and we have those two rows in front of us.”

  Outside of the suite? Where everyone can see me? Those ice-cold hands snake up my back and start closing in on my neck, trying to keep air from getting into my lungs. “No thanks. I’d rather watch from here.” I flop down on one of the leather stadium seats and put my beer in the cup holder. “This is perfect.”

  Dex takes the seat next to me and clinks his bottle against mine. “Ready for London?” he asks.

  My blood goes cold at the thought of running the gauntlet again. A new movie means riling up the fans again, and the premiere of the first one only just happened.

  “I don’t know, Dex. I’m having a little bit of a difficult time dealing with all the crap that went on with the last one.” I swallow a large sip of beer. “With the fans and stuff.”

  Dex is quiet for a moment, deciding what to say before speaking. I like him. He’s a good guy, plus he’s very grounded and levelheaded. More than once he kept me calm while all hell was breaking loose around us.

  “Yeah, it sucks for you. I’m not going to lie. I’d hate it.” He shivers, “Some of them are so creepy. I’ve seen tattoos with our faces on them. People have actually permanently inked our faces on their bodies, Ry!” He laughs and shakes his head. “Fucked up, man. It’s fucked up.”

  “Tattoos?” I answer. “Shit, that’s nothing. Britt told me someone was selling a chewed up piece of gum that I spit out at the gym. Dove in the garbage for it and everything. How freaking gross is that?”

  Dex clutches his abdomen and hunches over, he’s laughing so hard. “Gum? They’re selling your old-ass gum?”

  “Yes. And my leftover breakfast.” I laugh right along with Dex. It feels good to make light of the harassment I’ve suffered over the last year.

  “Breakfast? Come on! You’re full of shit!” Dex’s mouth is gaping open in disbelief.

  “Yep. I ate in a little restaurant in Vancouver with a few other people and when we left, someone stole my plate and sold the leftovers online.” That was fucking weird and actually, it did freak me out at the time. It doesn’t bother me now… well, not much anyway. Okay, it bothers me. It’s freaky as hell.

  The announcements begin and we turn to the field to watch the tip off.

  “Hey guys!” Rachel, one of the other crewmembers, waves to us from the second row of seats where the girls are settling in behind us.

  “Hey Rach. Good to see you.”

  “You too Ryker. Declan.”

  “Rachel, looking hot as usual,” Dex says to her. I roll my eyes. He’s always charming everyone, it’s his personality. No ulterior motive, no sarcasm, he just knows what to say. It’s a gift, really.

  We watch the first half of the game, laughing and drinking and hanging out. Britt was right, this suite is super private. No one comes in unless it’s a staff member cleaning up or refreshing our food and beverages.

  Dex excuses himself to use the suite’s private bathroom so I take the opportunity to call Leah. After a couple of rings, she answers.

  “Hey, Ryker.” Her voice is like a soothing balm on my fractured psyche.

  “Hey, how’s it going? Did everything go okay last night with your friend?”

  “Not really.” She sounds weird, sad. Not the vibrant, lively person from last night.

  “Can I do anything to help?” God, I’d do anything to wipe out the misery for her.

  “You probably can’t do much from your luxury suite at Madison Square Garden.”

  “What? How? I didn’t tell you I was going to the game, did I?” I replay our conversation and can’t come up with a single mention of basketball.

  “Wave, Ryker. I’m watching you on T.V.” Leah giggles as I look around in horror. I remember that the suite has televisions everywhere and I glance up at the nearest one. Sure enough, there I am, talking on my phone. I watch as Dex comes down the stairs and sits next to me both on T.V and in real life.

  “Crap!” The tight band around my chest starts compressing, making breathing difficult.

  “Ry, are you okay?” Leah can tell I’m panicking. Probably from the look on my face on the fucking television.

  “I’m fine, sorry. I didn’t know that they found me,” I tell her, the constriction on my lungs already loosening, Leah’s voice acting as a distraction.

  “They always scan the luxury seats for famous faces. It’s a New York thing. They do it at Yankee Stadium too.”

  “Damn, I wish I knew that,” I admit. I quickly change the subject so I won’t think about the cameras or the fact that anyone would know exactly where to find me. “So, when can I see you?” I get up and make my way to the back of the suite, away from the open windows and the camera’s prying eye.

  “Nice ass.”

  “Oh very funny,” I chuckle. “Did they get a good shot of it?” My face is flaming up thinking about my ass being shown on the big screen at a Knicks game.

  “Meh, it has clothing covering it up, so it’s debatable.”

  “You’re wicked.” I scold her for being naughty, but honestly, I love it. She’s funny and bright and distracts me from all my shit. “So you haven’t answered my question. When can I see you?”

  “Oh. I’m not sure. My friend, Sydney, who you met…”

  “Yes, the redhead who left the party early. I remember.” I also remember that she looked just as panicked as I feel most of the time.

  “She’s having… issues right now. I have to be here for her when she gets back,” Leah says, being deliberately vague.

  “Back? Back from where?”

  Leah sniffs as if trying to hold back a sob. “I don’t know. She left the club last night and I have no idea where she is. Neither does her boyfriend. We’re really worried.”

  “Worried as in you think something happened to her?” Holy shit, what if someone assaulted her on the street!

  “No. She took the hotel car service back to her place and packed a bag. She tends to take off when she’s upset, only she usually comes and stays with me.”

  “But she’s not with you,” I say carefully, not wanting to further upset Leah.

  “No. Because this time, she’s mad at me too. It’s partially my fault.”

  “What’s your fault? I don’t understand any of this,” I
admit to Leah.

  See Bancroft? You’re not the only one with problems. Yours are just broadcast worldwide and involve massive mobs of semi-violent women.

  “I can’t tell you, not without talking to Sydney first. She’s very private, Ry. She’d kill me if she knew I was telling you this much.” Leah sniffs again.

  “Alright Leah. I don’t want you breaking your friend’s trust. Can we still talk? At least until everything is settled and I can see you?”

  I can hear a small smile break through her tears. “Yeah Ryker. I’d like that.”

  I’ll take whatever I can get from this girl. A minute, an hour, a week… when I’m with her or talking to her, I can breathe again. I don’t see the red.

  Chapter 4

  “You sure have been in a shitty mood lately.” Brittany throws a balled up napkin at me.

  I deflect it with a quick flick of my fingers and scowl. Yeah, I know I’ve been a bastard, but it’s been a week since I last spoke to Leah, two weeks since the party, and I’m going crazy wanting to see her. I left a message on her voice mail a few days ago, but haven’t gotten a call back.

  If I’m honest with myself, what really has me upset is that I heard there was an attack by a crazy fan at a movie premiere. My worst nightmare come to life. I’ve barely slept a minute since.

  “Nice, Ry. Can you at least act like you’re having a good time? We haven’t been to this restaurant in forever and I want to enjoy my food.” She scowls and folds her arms across her chest.

  The sharp edges of my attitude soften a little and I allow my tight neck and shoulders to relax. “Fine. I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m being a shitty friend.”

  The wooden shoji screen of our private Tatami room slides open. Our server comes in with a large assortment of sashimi and nigiri.

  “May I have another Kirin, please?” I ask the beautiful Japanese woman.

  “No problem. I’ll go get it. Anything for you?” She turns to Britt who declines. With a quiet swish, the server disappears behind the closed screen.