Free Suddenly Famous by Heather Leigh Page B

nothing comes out.
    “Do you have any other bouncers that can help us get outside?” Sydney asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
    The big man swivels his head to face her, then grins. “I reckon I might. Give me a minute.” He moves up the stairs with more grace than a man his size should be able to manage.
    “Fucking Twitter,” I grunt, fisting my wild hair in frustration.
    “I know exactly how you feel about those types of sites,” Sydney says empathetically.
    I nod in agreement, glancing upstairs periodically for the bouncer to come back with our help. Christ, Sydney’s been stabbed, cyber stalked, and run off the road by paparazzi. She seems to be in a hell of a lot better shape than me. I’m falling the fuck apart.
    She did disappear for twelve years. Is that what it’s going to take for me to get better?
    Loud footsteps stomping down the stairway alert us to the arrival of our own personal cavalry. Four large men come down to the tiny entryway, suddenly making the space feel very very small.
    “Ready?” The original bouncer asks us?
    “Yes,” I choke out. “What’s your name?”
    “Isaac,” he says, grinning. “Now, let’s get you lot home.”
    Adam smiles like he’s about to open his Christmas presents, quite obviously entertained by this circus. Sydney looks as terrified as I feel, and Leah, well, I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet how horrific my fans can be.
    The big guys surround us as we burst out of the club, right into a wall of screaming females. Flashes from paparazzi that somehow joined the party start popping in our eyes, blinding us and making each step difficult. Isaac and his friends do a superb job of keeping most of the girls back, but a few manage to sneak their greedy hands in, grabbing at my shirt, my pants, and even my trademark hair.
    “Ow! Jesus,” I yell when someone jerks a hunk of hair, ripping it out by the roots.
    Now they’re taking my fucking hair?
    We’re stuffed into the back of the car before I can blink, the door slamming shut behind us.
    “You okay Ry? You look sick.” Leah is running her hands over my back and arms, knowing without asking that physical contact with her helps to keep me from going over the edge.
    I reach up to finger the back of my scalp where it still stings. “Someone ripped out my hair.”
    “What?” Leah shouts. She grabs my head and pulls it over so she can look. “Holy crap, Ry! You’re missing a spot! Those fuckers!”
    She releases my head and I laugh. There’s nothing at all funny about this, but I find Leah’s protective hostility hilarious for some reason. It’s sort of an ‘if you don’t laugh you’ll have a nervous breakdown’ reaction.
    Adam tries to stifle it, but he can’t, laughing with me until we’re both doubled over, snorting and coughing in a hideous display. When we finally catch our breath, the girls are staring at us open-mouthed, most likely thinking that we’re both idiots.
    Laughing is better than freaking out and going catatonic, so I consider it an improvement.
    London just might turn out to be the best, or worst, three months of my life. Either way, it’s going to be a freaky ride.
     

 
Chapter 11
     
    With a shaking hand, I pick up my phone and dial Dr. Benton’s number in New York. With the six-hour time difference, it’s nine in the morning there, so she should be in the office.
    “Dr. Benton’s office.”
    “Sandy, this is Ryker Bancroft, is Dr. Benton available to talk?”
    “Let me check Mr. Bancroft, please hold.” I listen to dreary elevator music while waiting for the doctor to pick up. For a psychiatrist’s office, you’d think they’d have more upbeat music to listen to. This crap is damn depressing.
    “Ryker?”
    “Hi, Dr. Benton. Do you have a minute?” I wipe my sweaty forehead with a nearby T-shirt I had tossed over a chair.
    Papers start shuffling on the other end of the line. “Yes, I have ten minutes until my next appointment. What can I do for