Starstruck

by Rachel Schurig

  “I used to have a train set,” Jackson said. “I loved that thing.”

  I looked at the two of them, both casting sad glances over their shoulders, and laughed. “How about I take a cab back to the hotel, and you guys enjoy the toy store.”

  “No,” Jackson said. “I don’t want you to do that.”

  “Jackson, we’re about three blocks away. It’s no big deal. You guys should have fun. It’s your day off.”

  Sam was obviously ready to accept the offer, but Jackson still seemed torn.

  “I’m a little sleepy, honestly. I’ll go relax with Beth, and you guys do your thing. The bus tickets are good for another few hours.”

  “Come on, Jackson,” Sam said. “I saw a robotic display upstairs.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Go. Be silly little boys. Have fun.”

  “We’ll meet up for dinner?” he asked, wavering.

  “Definitely.” Before he could argue, I lifted Beth’s hand and made her wave. “See you later.”

  I headed to the door before he could argue, breathing a sigh of relief when I made it outside. I settled Beth into her stroller and set off down Fifth Avenue. It seemed silly to catch a cab for such a short distance. Beth immediately calmed in the fresh air.

  The truth was, I needed a break from Jackson. It was too easy to fall under his spell. Even after my worrying at Ellis Island, all it had taken was a few smiles and funny shots in his ridiculous outfit for me to turn right back into the giggling, yearning person Sam had caught staring earlier in the day. “I think Mommy is the one that has to worry about being under his spell,” I told Beth.

  We made it back to the hotel in less than ten minutes. It was every bit as fancy as the place we had booked in L.A., though maybe slightly stuffier, a little more grand and stately than the open airiness I had experienced on the west coast. Sam and I were sharing a two-bedroom suite, with a smallish living space between our two rooms. It was nothing like Jackson’s suite in L.A. and a far cry from the one I had booked him here, but there was still plenty of room for Beth’s Pack ’n Play next to my bed. By the time I changed and fed her and settled her into bed, the boys still weren’t back. I checked my phone to see a text from Sam.

  Thought we’d head over to that M&M store. Because apparently we really *are* little boys. Text if you want us to come back, okay?

  I snorted. We’re fine, I wrote. Have fun.

  I peered down at Beth lying in her Pack ’n Play. “I think you have the right idea, babe,” I told her, yawning. Suddenly. my bed looked irresistibly cozy. I can afford a half hour nap, I thought, stretching out. Just a half hour.

  ***

  I woke up to the shrill ringing of my cell phone. I fumbled for it, knocking it onto the floor, the sound waking up Beth, who let out a sharp cry. I finally managed to bring the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Hey, cuz.” Even through the haze of sleep, the tension in Sam’s voice wasn’t hidden by the overly bright tone.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Um, we may have been recognized,” he said. “I mean, Jackson may have been recognized. Who in the hell would recognize me?”

  “Where are you?” I asked, swinging my legs off the bed.

  “We’re, uh, in the manager’s office at a coffee house on Broadway,” he said. “We thought it would be best to, uh, remove ourselves from the situation.”

  I closed my eyes. Was I imagining the sound of shrieking in the background?

  “Put Jackson on.”

  “Hey, Sofie,” he said, a moment later, sounding sheepish. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you okay?”

  “We’re fine. Fine. The windbreaker has seen better days…”

  “Did someone touch you?”

  He paused. “You know. The usual. Couple girls got grabby.”

  Oh no. He had been mobbed. And it was all my fault. This was the kind of thing I was supposed to protect him from. I was his employee. I was supposed to know the risks. Yet I had sent him out there, alone, without security. Without even a driver.

  “I’m sending a car,” I said, my heart racing. He could have been really hurt. “Do you know the address?”

  There was a muffled sound before Jackson came back. “Broadway and Fifty-third,” he said. “Just asked the manager. He’s a nice bloke, letting us hide out in his office.”

  He was clearly trying to keep things light so I didn’t feel bad. I wondered if he’d be able to impart that attitude on Erin. Crap. What if she fired me?

  “They’ll be right there,” I said. “Hold tight. And, Jackson… I’m so sorry.”

  “What do you have to be sorry for—” He was interrupted by a loud banging. “Bollocks! Sorry, Sof, gotta go.”

  I pulled my phone away from my ear to stare at it in horror. Had the fans managed to get through the door? With shaking hands, I pulled up the contact info for Bill. I just hoped he could get there before my mistake caused more damage than a torn windbreaker.

  Twenty minutes later, I heard someone opening the door to the room. Beth had refused to stop crying after the phone woke her up, and I was bouncing her frantically, trying to get us both calmed down. I was sure that my own worry about Sam and Jackson wasn’t helping her. Babies can sense stress, can’t they? I was sure I had read that somewhere.

  “Sam!” I cried, when his face appeared in the open doorway. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  He tossed a shopping bag down on the couch before bending to grab a water from the minibar. Finally, he turned to me. For some reason, he was beaming. “That…was awesome.”

  “Awesome? What in the hell are you talking about? Are you okay?” Beth’s cries, if possible, got even louder. “Come on, Bethy,” I begged. “You’re fine, baby.”

  “Hand her here,” Sam said. “Hang on—let me wash my hands. It’s grimy out there.”

  I followed him to the bathroom. “Seriously, Sam. What happened? Where’s Jackson? Were you scared—”

  “Sofia,” he said firmly as he washed his hands. “You need to chill. You’re freaking the baby out. Everyone is fine.” He dried his hands and held them out. “Here.”

  I handed Beth over, and she quickly quieted, her sobs fading into gaspy hiccups. “There you go, angelito,” he said, patting her back and bouncing her gently. “Your mom got you all worked up, didn’t she?” He nodded his head out toward the room. “Can we go sit down? I had to run for a bit there, I’m beat.”

  “You had to run?” I followed him out to the living area where he settled himself onto the couch, still cradling Beth. “Sam, what happened?”

  “So we decided to grab a drink, right? So we popped into this sports bar off Broadway, and they had the Man U, Man City game on their TVs. We couldn’t believe our good luck. Hey, did you hear that Rooney got hurt? He—”

  “Sam. I don’t care about soccer right now!”

  “Oh, right. Sorry. Anyhow, we’re watching the game and everything is fine. But then Man City scored. And we, uh, got a little excited. Jackson kind of took his hat off—well, he tossed it up in the air, honestly. Like I said, we were excited. And this girl, she saw him. And started shrieking. Like, you would not believe this noise, Sofie. It was worse than being at the dinner table with my sisters.”

  I closed my eyes. “And she chased you? In the bar?”

  “Well, no. But the table of college girls next to her—once they figured out what she was squealing about, they started looking pretty interested. So I told Jackson we should get out of there.”

  “Let me guess. They followed you.”

  “Well, yeah. And there was the fact that he forgot his hat. I think that was the real issue. Otherwise, we could have just grabbed a cab. But by the time the college girls got outside, another group of girls—younger ones, they were all wearing the same school uniform—they saw us. And that’s when the running happened.”

  “Did they grab him? He said his jacket was ripped.”

  For the first time, S
am looked a little uncomfortable. “It was no big deal. He was fine.” He took a sip from his water bottle before speaking almost directly into the top. “He did stumble, a little. But he only barely bled—”

  “Sam!” I was off the couch and over to the door before he could react. “He’s bleeding? I need to go apologize, this is all my fault.”

  “Hey, Sof, come on. He’s fine. Nothing a Band-Aid won’t fix.”

  I crossed my arms, leaning against the door. “It could have been so much worse. He should not have been out there without security.”

  “But it wasn’t worse. Like I said, it was pretty awesome.”

  “How was it awesome? What is wrong with you?”

  I could tell he was trying not to smile. “I mean, running away from a screaming crowd of girls? That’s pretty sweet. And then when the security guards came, they were all like, holding the mob back and hustling us through.” He looked entirely too excited. I kind of wanted to smack him. “It was like being famous or something.”

  “I’m going to check on him.”

  Sam rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

  “Are you okay with her?”

  He smiled down at Beth, now completely calm and sucking her thumb. “Yeah, I’m going to regale her with stories about how cool it is to be a celebrity.”

  “You aren’t a celebrity, Sam.”

  He waved his free hand. “Details, details.”

  I slipped out into the hallway, feeling terrible in spite of Sam’s assurances that Jackson was fine. I kept picturing him surrounded. Teenagers or not, a mob trying to get at you could be dangerous. He could have been scratched or pushed or, worse, trampled. I knocked on his door, feeling awful.

  He opened it a moment later, his face full of regret. “I told Sam to tell you that I’m fine.”

  “He said you were bleeding!”

  Jackson sighed wearily and opened the door wider. “Why don’t you come in so I can show you that it’s no big deal?”

  I ducked around him into the room—and stopped in my tracks. It was tiny. Much smaller than his room in L.A. Much smaller than the room Sam and I were sharing.

  “What happened to your room?” I had sent the room requests to the studio for booking and had specifically indicated a suite for him, standard according to Sonja. Why hadn’t he complained when it got messed up?

  “I requested this room,” he said, rubbing his neck. He looked a lot more agitated than he had when he answered the door. “It, uh, has really good views?”

  I turned to face him, ready to argue, but then I saw the rip in his jeans. The room could wait.

  “Are you okay? God, Jackson, I’m so sorry. I should have never let you go out there without your security. It was so stupid. Sonja would have never—”

  He held up a hand. “Can we at least sit down before we have this conversation?”

  This room only had a single armchair, no sofa or love seat. He pulled the desk chair over in front of it and sat down, gesturing me into the armchair. Once I was sitting, he reached forward and took my hands. It was only then that I realized they were shaking.

  “Take a deep breath, okay? I’m fine.”

  Staring into his calm blue eyes, I released a huge breath. “I was scared,” I whispered.

  He smiled a little. “I knew you would be. But seriously, Sof. This stuff happens. I really am fine.”

  I shook my head. “I feel so bad.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “But I should have arranged security.”

  He released my hands to run his own through his hair. “Do you know how much I love that you didn’t? You’re the first person I’ve worked with in years that thought I was capable of walking around a city without an entire posse of protectors.”

  I hung my head, but he reached forward to tilt my chin up, making me look at him. “That’s a good thing, Sofie.”

  “How is it a good thing? I completely misjudged the—”

  “You did not. You treated me like a grownup. You treated me like someone who could handle himself doing normal things.” He sat back in the chair, looking strangely proud. “And you know what? I did handle it. Things got hairy there for a minute, but I handled it. I got Sam and myself out of the situation and got us somewhere safe. And then you helped us to get home. Where is the disaster in that?”

  I couldn’t really find an argument for that, and he looked pleased with himself. “I’d say it was a pretty successful day, to be honest.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, looking down at the tear in his jeans. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Eh, chicks dig scars.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Jackson. I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” His eyes widened a bit. “But maybe you should check it out. You know, make sure I’m really okay. I could take off my pants and—”

  I tried to suppress the grin that was threatening, and his grew larger. “What? I like the idea of you pretending to be my nurse.”

  “That’s about enough of that.” I crossed my arms. “Erin is going to flip out. I’m probably going to get fired.”

  He mimicked my pose. “What was that you were saying about her working for me? You really think I would let her fire you for giving me the best day I’ve had in ages?”

  “That was your best day?”

  “Hell yeah! It was terrific fun.”

  I shook my head, unsure of what to make of him. “You have a strange definition of fun, Jackson.” I glanced around the room. “What’s up with this room, by the way? If the hotel messed up you should have told me.”

  “I told you, I requested this room.” He stood, looking uncomfortable. “Like I said—good view.”

  Eyebrows raised, I stood and walked the few steps to the window and pulled the shades. The view was of an alley, full of garbage bins and assorted piping. “Really.”

  He turned away. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “But—”

  “I didn’t feel like staying in a suite, okay?”

  We stared at each other across the room, and I noticed that we both had our hands on our hips. I dropped mine. “Would this have anything to do with that whole normal-guy-sightseeing thing?”

  He flopped down onto the bed, groaning. “I didn’t want you to see me in a suite, okay? It was bad enough in L.A.”

  “What? I don’t understand—” Suddenly, I was reminded of his decision to rent the condo in Royal Oak instead of the much more luxurious, and much larger, penthouse downtown. And his insistence that he only needed to use the one level. His renting a Ford instead of something fancier. His agreement to go out in public in such an un-Jackson outfit. His insistence that we stay at a hotel in L.A. instead of at his house. In fact, he’d said something that trip, too, about his suite…

  “Jackson, is your L.A. house really under construction?”

  He looked blank for a moment before his face fell. “Um…yes?”

  “Okay, what’s going on?”

  He sat up on the bed. “Look. I just… If we’re going to be…”—he pressed his lips together, tilting his head, as if the next word was difficult to get out—“friends, then I thought it would be good if you could see me as…normal.”

  “As opposed to…”

  “As opposed to some rich, out-of-touch, spoiled wanker of a movie star.” He practically spat the words out. “Look, I know how your cousin Lizzie sees me. I know how Tommy sees me. I’m not under any delusions that they haven’t…told you things about me.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I’m sure you’ve read plenty on your own. And I just… I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

  I sat down on the edge of his bed. “You would rather I see you as someone that you’re not?”

  “I could be this guy,” he insisted. “I could stay in a normal hotel room and wait in a queue, and”—he gestured down at the pants—“wear ugly dad jeans.”

  “But you don’t really want to.”

  He sighed. “What I want is to be treat
ed like a normal person. You treat me like a normal person. I was just trying to make it easier for you to see me that way.”

  “Jackson.” When he didn’t look up at me, I reached forward and pushed on his leg—big mistake. Even his shin was all muscle. I snatched my hand away, determined not to think about his body. At least I had his attention. “There is nothing wrong with staying in a suite when you have the money for it. There’s nothing wrong with renting the kind of car you want or showing off your gorgeous house in Hollywood Hills. Really.”

  “Thomas Harper never does stuff like that.”

  “What’s your point?”

  He crossed his legs under him, and I copied the movement so that we were sitting directly across from each other on the bed. “I see how happy he is, Sofie. With your cousin. With his family. With his career. And I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy.”

  The sincerity of his words hit me right in the gut. He wasn’t being hyperbolic. He really hadn’t ever been that happy.

  “So you thought the answer was pretending that you didn’t like the things you like?”

  When he didn’t answer, I knew I was right. I chose my words carefully, wanting him to understand. “My cousin and I are very different, did you know that?”

  He cocked his head. “Different how?”

  “First of all, she’s totally into books and reading and school work and all of that. And I’m not—not at all. I haven’t read a book in ages. I would much rather read a magazine.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “When I got pregnant, I cancelled my magazine subscriptions to save money. It was the saddest day ever.”

  He laughed. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. You know what else? Lizzie couldn’t care less about clothes. And I love shopping. I could spend hours and hours at the mall. I love trying new ways to do my hair and makeup. I’m obsessed with finding new beauty products. Lizzie would rather spend the night in with a pizza and a movie. And I like stuff like that, too—but I also like dressing up and going out. I like dancing. I like fancy shoes. My mission in life is to find an affordable pair of Christian Louboutins at a sample sale. The best meal I’ve ever had was that lunch at the Book Cadillac.”