Wait, I’m supposed to share details about Drew for money? I laugh as I think about texting this guy Drew’s McDonald’s order. Probably not the hot dish he was expecting.
But what this means is that a) someone saw us together, b) someone presumably took a picture, and c) someone identified me. And gave this reporter my number. It’s kind of messed up.
I ignore the text, obviously, but not before I get another text . . . this time, from Chloe.
Have you checked Hollywood Gossip today?
I don’t know why she’s phrasing it like that. Other than my shameful researching-Drew binge, I don’t make a habit of reading gossip websites, and to the best of my knowledge, neither does she. Still, I pull up the page and see . . .
A photo of me.
Well, it’s not just me. It’s Drew and me sitting in our McDonald’s booth. One of those phone-wielding teenagers must have snapped our picture and sent it in.
“Damn those youths!” I mutter, then feel approximately one million years old.
There are only a few pictures, most of them kind of blurry, clearly taken by a kid who was startled to see a movie star inside a fast-food place. There’s one where I’m unflatteringly shoving a French fry in my mouth, which I don’t appreciate, but you can only see the sides of our faces, so I can’t complain that much. But it’s the caption that really gets to me.
Even Hollywood stars need fast food once in a while! Drew Danforth relaxes with local girl Annie Cassidy in Columbus on the set of the new Tommy Crisante film. Is he finally moving on from Gillian? Let’s hope so!
How do they know my name? Possibilities spin through my mind. Did Drew tell them? Does he have some sort of Kardashian-like setup where he leaks stuff to the tabloids? What’s going on?
I don’t know, but I intend to find out. Before closing the site, I take one more look at the pictures. There’s a reason people don’t do professional photo shoots in McDonald’s—that overhead lighting is far from flattering—but I zoom in on Drew’s face. He’s grinning at me, looking genuinely happy, his eyes on my face. I think of those old pictures of my mom and dad, the ones where he’s looking at her like she’s the most wonderful woman on the planet. In fact, if you didn’t know Drew was an actor who gets paid to look at women like this, you might even think there was something between us.
* * *
• • •
It’s impossible to talk to Drew on set that morning, which isn’t surprising since he spends all his time either acting or hiding, and anyway Tommy sends me on about fifteen coffee runs.
“Our little internet star!” Chloe says as she hands me yet another black coffee.
“How has this guy not combusted yet?” Nick asks. “Is it possible to OD on caffeine?”
“Once I drank five espressos in a row,” Tobin says. “All that happened was I finished a paper and then barfed.”
“Good to know, Tobin,” Chloe says with a grimace. “Have you asked Drew about the picture yet?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t been able to talk to him. I don’t know what the deal is or how that picture got on Hollywood Gossip.”
Chloe shrugs.
“Wait a second,” Tobin asks. “Are you guys talking about Steve from Hollywood Gossip?”
Chloe and I both whip around to stare at him. Nick ignores us all.
“Yes,” I say slowly. There’s absolutely no way Tobin reads Hollywood Gossip because the only famous people he ever talks about are professional skateboarders. “How do you know about this?”
“Okay, so some guy called here?” Tobin says, his eyes darting between us like he’s not sure what’s happening. “And I guess he knew Drew Danforth came here sometimes? And he asked if I knew who he went to McDonald’s with?”
“You didn’t,” I whisper.
“So I was like, sure, her name’s Annie Cassidy and then he asked what your job was, but . . . I couldn’t remember.” Tobin shrugs.
“Tobin,” Nick says. “If you’re responsible for some gross dudes with cameras coming in here and harassing Annie and also peeing on the toilet seats—”
“Did I do something wrong? You guys talk about Annie’s life all the time, and you’re really loud,” Tobin says. “I didn’t know it was, like, confidential or whatever.”
I’m annoyed, but being mean to Tobin is like rubbing a puppy’s nose in the carpet it peed on.