Screen Idol

by Elle Rush

  Ashleigh pulled her out of the way. “My girl parties with the gods,” her friend whispered as she stared at the trio of actors and the studio security who’d met them there. Nick Thurston and Sean Glenn glad-handed the crowd and posed with the ladies. Layla Andrews was content to be photographed alone and condescended to be in a few shots with a couple of good-looking men she pulled from the crowd.

  “I don’t party with them. The show made them come.”

  “Uh-huh. Smile!” Ashleigh wrapped her arm around Sydney’s waist and beamed at Benny, who appeared in front of them, camera up.

  Sydney froze. “Wait, try again!” she said to Benny’s disappointed face when he looked at the camera’s display screen.

  This time they were both ready. Benny took the shot and promised them copies. By the time he was back to taking pictures of the crowd, Ashleigh had tugged Sydney over to the sideline. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “I’ve had enough surprises today, thanks.”

  “You’ll open it, and you’ll like it,” Ashleigh ordered.

  “Fine.” Sydney opened the bag and pulled out a racer-back tank top with “Team Scar” screen-printed on the front. There was no chance in hell. “I can’t wear that.”

  “You can, and you will. For pictures at least,” Ashleigh insisted.

  “I really can’t.”

  Ashleigh grabbed her shoulders and twisted until Sydney faced the temporary bleachers cordoned off on the other side of the court. The first two rows consisted of men in military haircuts all sporting tank tops with identical logos. Half of them were obviously wounded warriors, bandages and scars on display and visible under the shirts. Ashleigh lifted the shirt in her hand over her head and shook it in the air. The crowd went nuts, shouting words of encouragement to the pair that made up Team Scar.

  “That’s low, Ash.”

  “I know. It’s also necessary. It’s time, Sydney.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  It probably wasn’t. Ashleigh had been there for her through every minute of her stay in the burn ward, through all her rehab, and there for her again through the surgeries and rehab after that. She knew Sydney’s state of mind about the scars on her back and shoulder. The doctors and Sydney’s family had promised that the scarring was much better than it had been, but whenever she looked in the mirror it was like the first time she’d seen herself after the accident. It was Ashleigh who made her believe the truth.

  Sydney blushed hard. “I haven’t told you why Chris didn’t show up.”

  “He’s a movie star. I figured he flaked. Enough said. At least his buddies showed up.”

  “He didn’t flake. He found out about my burns and disappeared.”

  The temperature around them dropped ten degrees. “Excuse me?” Ashleigh demanded.

  She’d been wrong. This was what BFFs were for. Sydney recounted every word of the toga fiasco, every touch Chris had given her until his hand hit the scars under the material of her dress, and his subsequent, immediate disappearance.

  Ashleigh turned and stared daggers at Layla until Sydney spun her back around. “Fuck Chris. Fuck that bitch. You are so much more than both of them. Show them both they can go to hell.”

  “People will stare,” Sydney whispered.

  “People are looking at the guys,” Ashleigh replied quietly.

  That was different. Who would insult a war hero?

  Ashleigh raised the tank and shook it again. Another roar of approval crashed over Sydney.

  “You’re beautiful, and fuck anybody who says otherwise. You can do this, Syd.”

  Each breath took a lifetime as Sydney grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and lifted it past her belly and then her shoulders. She tugged the collar over her head and stood frozen in her sports bra, right on the beach where everyone could see her. Ashleigh had to pry her shirt out of her grip.

  Sydney dropped the tank once as she tried to put it on. Ashleigh left the T-shirt on the ground and grabbed both of Sydney’s hands. “Breathe. You’re doing great.” She lifted Sydney’s hand and inhaled with an exaggerated breath, then exhaled the same way. Sydney mimicked her until she remembered how to do it on her own.

  It took two tries to get her head and arms through the right holes, but she did get the tank top on. Only as she straightened the seams running down the sides did she realize how quiet everyone had become. When she turned to face the bleachers, everyone she knew in the crowd erupted in applause.

  “You are amazing,” Ashleigh whispered in her ear as she crushed her in a hug.

  “You, too.” It was a good thing Ashleigh was holding her up because she wouldn’t have managed on her own. She finally let her friend go and waved to her fans, pointing proudly at the logo on her chest.

  The referee approached them from across the sand. “Ladies, we’re going to get started in about ten minutes. I know you wanted to have a word first.”

  This was Sydney’s department. It was another pre-sake speech her crew had helped her prepare. This one was so important they’d even written it down. She’d have to amend it to say thanks to the actress and actors who’d come along and who were, by the looks of it, raking it in hand over fist as they sold tickets in front of the prize table. Well, the guys were selling tickets. Layla stood by the baskets like a statue.

  Sydney jogged over to them, wishing she’d worn her ponytail lower so she could pull it over her shoulder. “Sorry, everyone, I need to steal the Greeks for a moment.” For the most part the crowd let them go with some half-hearted groans. A few pushy Olympus fans had to be held back as Sydney drew them away and explained she was going to mention them in the game’s opening remarks. The guys were cool with it. She wasn’t surprised when Layla kicked up a fuss.

  “I’ll stand up there with you, but could you at least put your shirt back on?”

  Sydney flinched. Even Sean’s jaw dropped at the blatant insult, and he’d been spotlighted in the press for his inappropriate remarks in the past. Nick opened his mouth to defend her, but someone beat him to it.

  “What did you say?” Chris asked from behind her.

  This was all Sydney needed. Her day hadn’t been complete until the guy who dropped her for her scars came to her rescue for being damaged. She’d been a good person for most of her life. She’d definitely treated Chris better than he deserved. How had she managed to piss karma off so badly? She should have told the whole world about the melons if this was how her life was going to play out. “What are you doing here?” Sydney asked.

  “One second, Syd. Layla, what did you just say?” Chris repeated.

  “Looking at her back makes me uncomfortable,” the actress said.

  “Guilt does that,” Ashleigh snapped.

  “Jesus, Layla—” Chris began.

  “Oh, please, like you didn’t disappear the second you felt the scars under my dress,” Sydney spat in his face.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You were all huggy and arms around me for the pictures until you touched my back. You couldn’t get far enough away after that. Then you vanished altogether.”

  “Not true.”

  “I was there,” she argued.

  “I’m trying to help you here.”

  “Shut up, Chris!” the women shouted in stereo.

  Sydney turned on Layla. “You didn’t need me to take off my shirt to know exactly how my back looks. It’s funny how you can’t deal with it here but were willing to have me show it off in front of all your coworkers. Did you plan to insult me there, too, or drown me in sympathy until I died of embarrassment?”

  “I’d deny that the toga was my idea, but you’d never believe me,” Layla said.

  “Damn straight! Your word is as good as his,” Sydney shot back, pointing at Chris even as she pulled away from him. She didn’t need defending, and she definitely didn’t need it from him. There was no way she was going to cower in front of that poisonous bitch.

  “You can’t sa
y that!” Layla dug in her purse, and Sydney knew she was going for a phone.

  “I didn’t say anything. And I’ve got witnesses. What are you going to tell them? Besides, you started it!” It was a juvenile comeback but utterly appropriate. The list of things the two of them weren’t allowed to say about the accident per the lawyers and the judge was lengthy. They probably shouldn’t be talking at all. Right now she didn’t care. In fact, she turned her back to Layla. “Take a good look. This is my burn scar. It hurt like hell. And it is why we’re here. You agreed to be here, and you knew damned well what to expect before you showed up. If you don’t want to hang around after, we’ll do your part and you can leave. But I’m—we’re—not going to hide to protect your delicate sensibilities. Conversation over.”

  Nick and Sean smiled broadly for Benny as she posed with the Olympus crew for some group shots before the game. Sydney’s grin was full of bravado. She didn’t look at Chris or Layla. They could be as uncomfortable as they wanted while they stood beside her exposed shoulder.

  As soon as Benny was done, Ashleigh tossed her shirt at her.

  “Syd, you don’t need to cover up because of what Layla said. And you definitely don’t have to for me,” Chris said.

  “Not everything is about you, Chris,” she retorted as she pulled the tee over her head. His arrogance knew no bounds. The shirt wasn’t to protect her from the looks she was getting; it was to protect her tender skin from the sun and the sand.

  Sydney left Chris arguing with his castmate as she stomped through the sand to the boxes piled at the sideline. She accepted the referee’s hand up and called for attention. “Thanks, everyone, for coming to the final death match of the Curse the Darkness Beach Volleyball Tournament where the most awesome and amazing Team Scar, consisting of me, Sydney Richardson, and Ashleigh Jessup, is going to pound the totally-unworthy-despite-being-tied-with-us-for-points Team Veggie Delight into the sand. Veggies, do you want to wave?” Sydney pointed across the court. “That’s Caitlin Kelly and Vanessa Vaughn, the official opposition.” Both teams were cheered on by the onlookers.

  “And we have two sets of special guests. In the bleachers, from the best care center in Los Angeles with the best-looking patients as well as some friends in uniform, is Curse the Darkness’ tremendous cheering section and reason we’re here. Can we please show these incredible people our support?”

  When the guys looked annoyed at the attention, Sydney laughed at them. “Payback, it’s a…five letter word that rhymes with bitch.” The crowd roared again. Then she swept her arm to the other side of the court. “We are also very lucky to have some of the stars of Olympus here to lend their support. And they brought a gift basket so buy tickets! I’d like to introduce the most generous Nick ‘Ares’ Thurston and Sean ‘Eros’ Glenn. Beside them is Layla ‘Hera’ Andrews. Oh, and Chris ‘Zeus’ Peck is back there too. Thank you guys so much for coming out and helping to raise funds for a really great cause.” Her thanks was begrudged but genuine. The crowd was small but still tons larger than it would have been if the show hadn’t gotten the foundation’s name out there. If every person bought five dollars’ worth of tickets, it would be a couple extra thousand dollars raised. Despite the fact two of the four stars attending were assholes, it was still good they came.

  “The prize table is going to draw tickets and post the winning numbers in a few minutes, so please go and see if you’ve won a prize from any of our fantastic sponsors, whose logos are liberally sprinkled around the area. They are great people. Go spend your money in their stores and restaurants! And in the meantime, it’s time to get down to business. Ladies, on the court!”

  Sydney joined Ashleigh on the court. They approached the net and ducked under it to speak to the opposition without being heard.

  “How are you feeling?” Vanessa asked her like she hadn’t been sitting across the table from her the night before.

  “Sake is evil,” Sydney replied with a smirk. Vanessa had to be hurting more than she was.

  “Sing it, sister,” Vanessa’s black-haired partner Caitlin agreed.

  “And it’s the two all-girl teams in the final. I told you so,” Ashleigh threw out.

  “Yeah, you called it,” Vanessa said. “Now stop yapping and let’s get this show on the road.”

  The women high-fived each other and took their places. Sydney specifically didn’t look to the bleachers where Chris, Nick, Sean, and Benny were now sitting among the guys from the VA. Russ had put Layla into a car after her speech. Nobody missed her. But now Sydney had bigger fish to fry. It was game time.

  Chapter 17

  Benny was wrong when he said Sydney had shut Chris down quickly on her front step that morning. This was shutting him down fast. Fast and hard and permanent. Chris’ mother was a school teacher, and even after twenty-some years of hearing the same advice, he was still learning to not enter a conversation halfway through. This time he really wished he’d paid attention because a four-foot-eleven Filipino actress and a five-foot-five SoCal call center employee could verbally body-slam even the king of the gods.

  What he needed was a few minutes of quiet to come up with a game plan to apologize to Sydney. The sweepstakes promo was over in a couple of hours, but he didn’t want it to end with her thinking he was an asshole who’d left her in the lurch when he found out her back was scarred. It didn’t sound any better to say he left her for totally different, selfish reasons, but her thinking he found her physically repulsive tore at him. It was so far from the truth. He couldn’t imagine doing something like that to her. Evidently though, she could. Yeah, he was never going to see her again, but he didn’t want his last memory of Sydney to be of her hating him.

  The problem was he wasn’t going to get a few quiet minutes on the bleachers. Nick was talking to the vets in the front row about Sydney winning the contest. She had more fans than the show did in this crowd. From what he overheard, she knew most of them from the burn ward when she was a patient. His stomach dropped even further. He’d screwed over a charity worker and a burn victim. There was no coming back from karma that bad. His sole saving grace was that although everyone had seen the argument, nobody seemed to have heard what it was about.

  Hell, he barely knew what it was about. He got his part. It was bullshit, but he understood how it looked to everyone else. He had no idea how Layla came into it. She obviously knew Sydney was burned long before the sweepstakes ever came into play. And evidently there were lawyers on speed dial, likely involving a gag order because as much as Sydney and Layla had said, there had been a tremendous lack of detail.

  That was for later. Figuring out how to get Sydney to listen to him for thirty seconds again was his primary concern. Chris couldn’t even ask his friends for help. First of all, he’d already used up all his favors with Nick. Secondly, his remaining co-star was otherwise occupied.

  Beside him, Sean seemed really into the game. A little too into it for the beefy African-American guy in a sling sitting in the next row. “Dude, you’d better not be drooling over my sister,” the guy in the navy cap growled.

  “Which one’s your sister?” Sean shot back with a grin.

  “Vanessa. Team Veggie Delight.”

  Chris elbowed Sean in the ribs hard enough to leave a dent. If that didn’t give the Greek god of love a hint not to hit on the sailor’s little sister, Sean deserved to get pummeled.

  “She’s very pretty, but I’m more interested in her partner. That Kelly girl’s got skills.”

  “Caitlin’s practically my sister,” the guy added.

  “No, real skills,” Sean protested. “My cousin is on the pro circuit. She’s really good. She could do damage with those spikes.”

  “Yeah, she’s good,” the sailor agreed. He offered Sean his hand. “Trent Vaughn.”

  Sean shook it respectfully and introduced himself, and then pointed out and named the others from the show. It went fine until Russ spoke up. “Sean, I don’t know if you want to sit by a guy who was too dumb to duc
k.”

  “Fuck you, asshole,” Trent shot back to Russ.

  Oh hell no! His bodyguard was not going to ruin the goodwill the show was generating with the foundation by insulting the wounded men and women who were Sydney’s friends and supporters. He had enough problems today. “Mr. Vaughn, Trent, my friend Russ didn’t mean to suggest…”

  Trent waved him off with a laugh. “Relax. I served with this bozo from back in the day. He wasn’t any more PC back then.”

  Okay, good to know. None of the other veterans seemed offended either. It must be one of those navy things. Sometimes he forgot Russ had a career before the show. They always called him a drill sergeant and referred to him as ex-navy, but that was just a line on his resume to Chris. Now he realized his fight trainer was sitting among his brothers in arms. It hit him that Sydney’s charity was more than convenient for the show; it mattered to people he knew, people he was friends with. He was glad he got a chance to participate in this. Sydney had given him more than she’d ever know.

  Chris took a few deep breaths to get his blood pressure below aneurysm level after Russ’ comment and tried to regain his train of thought on the “apologize to Sydney” plan-making front. He didn’t get far.

  “Damn! Great block!” Sean yelled at the court.

  Sean must have been impressed. He was notorious as a horn-dog, both as himself and as the character he played. Chris couldn’t remember the last time Sean had looked at a female without the next words out of his mouth being some kind of innuendo or invitation. Except when he’d met Sydney. Probably because Sean knew that Martine would go up one side of him and down the other, and that Chris would stomp on whatever was left.

  “Caitlin’s an actress, you know,” Trent said to Russ. The man spoke low. If conversation in the stands hadn’t died off for that split second, Chris never would have heard the comment. It didn’t sound like a hint for a job offer to his friend, more like a big brother’s brag.

  Maybe he could talk to someone at the show and use this as an olive branch…