A/N: Some of you may have seen my message about hating the first draft of this story, so this updated version probably doesn't come as a surprise to you. I've edited this several times over the years but here is the most recent version - I hope you guys like it!
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Copyright © TheFlamingPopsicle 2017
All Rights Reserved
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying recording or otherwise) of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
If you didn't bother to read that, just use common sense and don't steal my shit. If it feels like stealing, it probably is. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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Chapter 1: Hollywood Tonight
The last time I saw myself on television, I was eight years old and being featured on America's Funniest Home Videos for my inability to hold down buffalo wings during my debut performance in the Wizard of Oz. People called me the "Vomiting Tree" for months.
Ten years later, I was surprised to see I had inadvertently made a comeback to nighttime television via Hollywood Tonight, your average celebrity gossip show.
A picture of me was the last thing I'd expected to see on a show dedicated to exploiting the lives of those lucky enough to have made it big. God knew I wasn't a celebrity. My five minutes of fame certainly hadn't granted me that title.
Before I could properly react, my picture was gone, replaced by an embarrassing shot of my best friend and me sitting in our seats at our local theater. Tori was ugly-crying, streaks of mascara evident on her cheeks, while I was sporting some seriously crazy eyes and laughing hysterically.
We were on national television, our likeness visible to millions of people, and we both looked absolutely ridiculous. Awesome.
Lacking a reasonable explanation for my latest public humiliation, I stood in the middle of my bedroom and stared at the screen like an idiot, hoping to find some sort of enlightenment.
"Fan-favorite Christian Ryder wanted to show his fans just how much he adores all of them, once again proving he's the sweetest guy ever," the blond host said, smiling widely.
Of course. Of course Christian Ryder was somehow involved. It was just my luck that the one actor I couldn't stand was the one who was somehow involved in my return to the public eye.
Really, my astonishment was foolish. I shouldn't have been surprised. Christian Ryder was the kind of celebrity you couldn't avoid. He was everywhere. He was on the covers of my favorite magazines. He was being featured on my favorite talk shows. His face was plastered in stores nationwide, his merchandise selling surprisingly well. The only product of his that I would ever buy would be Christian Ryder toilet paper, for obvious reasons.
"Last week, Ryder launched a free, nationwide raffle with amazing prizes and goodies, and the results are in," the same host continued, completely oblivious to my inner turmoil.
"But that's not all. This raffle gave Ryder's manager a brilliant idea," her brunette sidekick trilled, because that was the only word I could think of that accurately described the inhuman noise that woman made. "Frank Renaldo wanted to show Ryder just how dedicated and amazing all of his fans are, and with two of his movies out right now, there wasn't a better time. He had secret cameras installed in movie theaters all over the country to show Ryder and the world just how much we love him and his movies!"
Secret cameras? Was that even legal? That felt like a serious invasion of privacy. Those secret cameras of theirs had obviously managed to capture Tori and me without our permission. I was sure I hadn't signed anything on my trip to the movies.
Could I sue for this? I could always use some extra cash...
"Our crew backstage has selected the best videos, and we also have a couple of surprises ready for all of our viewers and for one lucky girl!" the blonde added.
"First things first, please welcome our special guest, Christian Ryder himself!"
Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse, they had to bring out the devil himself. If this was one of their surprises, it was pretty predictable. A surprise visit from Christian Ryder during an episode dedicated to Christian Ryder – who would've guessed it?
Not a very good surprise, anyway, if you asked me. This was why I was wary of surprises. Well, no this wasn't why. I'd already had some bad experiences with them. The last time someone surprised me, I had to deal with a clown with a sketchy background, roaming hands, and a penchant for making inappropriate balloon animals on my birthday.
No one believed his last creation was a sea cucumber. No one.
I rolled my eyes as I watched the live-audience – all women, of course – fawn over Christian's arrival. He flashed them a cocky smile and waved, further cementing my current annoyance.
"Are you excited to see how your fans like your movie? I mean, how cool is your manager?" the blond host asked.
What kind of weird ass manager installed cameras in movie theaters so their client could see people watch his movie? Who in their right mind would think that was cool or even okay on any level?
"I'm pretty pumped to see what you guys have for me to see. Let's do it," Christian said.
"Alright, that's what we like to hear. So our crew backstage worked hard to select the best video clips for you, and afterwards, we'll have a big surprise for one lucky girl!"
The first three videos were exactly what you would expect from Ry-Hards, or as I liked to call them, Ry-Tards: girly fights, girly comments, girly screaming, and girly squealing. The estrogen radiating from the screen was suffocating. I wanted to just forget I'd ever seen the pictures and turn the television off, but curiosity got the best of me. It wasn't every day that Tori and I were on television, after all. This I had to see.
"This next one has got to be my favorite fight," the blonde said. "It's so funny."
A new thumbnail appeared, portraying a different theater. The next video began to play soon after, the hosts giggling in anticipation in the background. It couldn't have been that funny, but whatever.
"Oh em gee, oh em gee, oh em gee," a blond girl squeaked loudly in the video. She sounded familiar. A little too familiar. "He's so freaking hot! Oh em gee! I would, like, literally kill to meet him. Can you imagine being that close to him? I would die. Like, literally die."
"Oh em gee, right?" her friend, a red-head, squealed. "I bet he's even cuter in person. Like, his blue eyes totally make me feel connected to his, like, soul, you know? And his smile – Sel, it's like he's my Jesus. He gets me. His movies are, like, my bible.
Oh no. This was... oh no. This girl was unmistakable. There weren't many people on this earth who would compare Christian Ryder to Jesus in a non-satirical way, and there was no way I would ever be able to pass up the opportunity to respond if I was within earshot. Which I had been... three days earlier.
I watched myself respond to their annoying comments on-screen, using a loud, annoying voice to mimic them. "Oh em gee, Tori, like, look at, like, him, like! He's so, like, hot, like! Oh em gee! I need, like, Jesus. Oh wait, Christian Ryder is my Jesus."
On-screen Tori giggled at my imitation, although it was clear to anyone watching that the two girls hadn't enjoyed my imitation as much as she had.
"What's your problem?" the red-head demanded.
I watched myself turn around in my seat to face the two girls. There had only been a few rows separating us, so it hadn't been hard for any of us to make ourselves known. "My problem is that my friend and I are trying to enjoy the movie and your commentary is getting on our nerves. You don't have to add your own soundtrack to the movie."
Tori snickered and whispered something unintelligible to me on-screen. I had no recollection of what it was. I was pretty sure I had blocked that entire trip out of my short-term memory.
The blonde narrowed her eyes. "And you throwing, like, popcorn at the screen isn't annoying?"
Guilty as charged. I'd bought a large bucket of popcorn that night with the sole intention of using it as ammo. I ran out ten minutes into the movie. I kept throwing it at the screen whenever Christian's face appeared. Considering he was the main character of Fighter, the movie we'd gone to see, my popcorn never stood a chance.
"I was just trying to feed him like they do in the movies," I told her. "That's romantic, right?"
Tori's hands flew up to her mouth, shielding the world from the horse-laugh that would have undoubtedly followed had she kept her hands at her sides.
"Oh, puh-lease," the red-head said, looking me up and down with prominent disdain. "Like Ryder would ever go out with you."
"Oh, and he would go out with you?" I asked her.
"Um, yeah," she said, fluffing her flat, straight hair. "I know how to make myself look good."
"Yeah. Sure. Nice makeup. Do you use a brush, or do you just dip your face in?"
Tori burst out laughing, and her laughter was so contagious I couldn't help but let out a chuckle. For a moment, my televised self mirrored my real self.
The video ended, revealing the perpetually amused hosts. "She's my favorite," the brunette said before dramatically leaning down to whisper to her co-host. Turning her attention back to the camera so quickly I thought her neck might snap, she continued in an ominous tone. "But who is she, exactly? Who is Christian Ryder's Mystery Girl really? We might be able to answer that... after the break!"
Okay... things were getting kind of weird. The whole situation had been weird from the start, fine, but it was becoming borderline creepy. These chicks were planning on tracking me down. God, why did I have to go to the movies that day? This was all Tori's fault. I wouldn't have been there had it not been for her.
My cell phone rang right after their announcement. I answered without paying attention to the caller ID, thankful for the distraction. "Hello?"
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Tori screamed.
I held the phone away from my ear with a grimace. "I think so..."
"I know." I shook my head. "I don't get it. I don't have anything to do with that guy. I didn't even want to go see his stupid movie. You dragged me to it."
Unlike Tori, my idea of a fun summer night didn't involve going to see a Christian Ryder movie. She could praise his work all she wanted, but she would never make the experience enjoyable for me.
When we met in high school, I obviously had no idea I was going to have to deal with this. I had no idea my best friend was going to turn out to be a total Ry-Hard. Christian Ryder hadn't even begun his acting career at that point. I'd never considered the possibility of having to sit through one of his movies without getting sick. His career began around the same time I met Tori – my sophomore year – and he skyrocketed to fame shortly after.
His fans were soon branded Ry-Hards, and these fans included ladies of all ages, mind you, and even some men. Unfortunately for me, these fans included Tori.
Tori's attempt at a reply was drowned out by the end of the break. I looked up and, lo and behold, the hosts of Hollywood Tonight were still talking about me.
"We have several other clips of this mystery girl, and a lot of them have us guessing," the blonde said. "We just don't know what to make of her here at Hollywood Tonight!"
They then proceeded to play a video of me throwing popcorn at the screen every time Christian's face appeared. They only showed about thirty seconds of it, but it was enough to make anyone realize why I was throwing the popcorn. Subtlety wasn't my thing.
And then came my comments. Oh, the comments... Not my best, but effective nonetheless.
"The last time I saw a face like his, I fed it a banana."
"He needs to wear a condom on his head. If he's gonna act like a bleep, he might as well dress like one."
"I understand now. I see why some animals eat their young."
"Quick, somebody call the zoo. There's been an escape from the simian exhibit!"
In all honesty, if I had known I was being recorded, I probably would've toned it down a little bit, but how the hell was I supposed to know someone had come up with this ridiculous idea?
"There were a few others, but we pushed it far enough with her second comment," the brunette said with a chuckle. The deep sound starkly contrasted with the majority of the sounds she'd made throughout the show. "So as promised, we'll get to our little surprise... after the break! Don't go anywhere!"
I tried to listen to Tori as she took the break as an opportunity to babble endlessly about our debut on national television – her debut, technically – but I was too busy freaking out to really care. I mean, how did this kind of thing even happen? I had never heard of a manager overstepping boundaries like this, or a television show supporting these oversteps, for that matter.
I still questioned its legality, but I doubted there was anything anyone could do about it.
Before I knew it, the break was over and my eyes were forced to take in Christian and his adoring fans, and that included both the audience and the hosts.
"As we promised, one lucky girl also gets a little surprise of her own..."
"This lucky, lucky girl didn't just get featured on tonight's episode of Hollywood Tonight. She also won the grand prize in his raffle!"
Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. What? Excuse me, but what?
"With the little bit of information our mystery girl was nice enough to provide, we managed to track her down."
This had to be a joke. Was I getting Punk'd? I had to have been getting Punk'd.
"Tori, what did you do?" I hissed into the phone, tightening my grip on it.
I knew I shouldn't have entered that damn raffle when Tori and I went to the movies. I should have ran when I heard the words "raffle" and "Christian Ryder" in the same sentence, but God, it had seemed so harmless. It was a raffle created by a guy with a huge fan-base. The chances of winning were one in a million. There were hundreds of entries in the box from our theater alone. When Tori had begged me to enter the raffle with her, I figured it wouldn't make a difference and would make her shut up about the whole thing. Plus, she'd offered to buy me a hot dog for entering.
I liked hot dogs, okay?
The thought of winning never even crossed my mind when I filled it out. Maybe it should have.
"Um, what?" Tori squeaked nervously. "I... This... uh..."
"What did you do? I didn't give them enough information to track me down."
Actually, I was 99% sure I hadn't given them any useful information at all. The only thing I didn't lie about was my age. Everything else I wrote down – name, address, email, phone number, gender – was total bullshit.
"Her name is still a secret, but we do have her cell phone number, and that lucky chica is about to get a call from none other than Christian Ryder!"
I choked. There was nothing to choke on, but I choked.
"Itookyourraffleticketoutandwrotedownyourphonenumberwhenyouturnedaround," Tori blurted out. "I'm sorry! I didn't think you'd actually win. You were supposed to notice. It was supposed to be funny, but you were already looking at the hot dogs."
By the time her words had processed in my mind, it was too late. My cell phone had already begun to announce a second call coming through. It didn't take a genius to figure out who was on the other line.
"Tori, he's calling," I yelled, frantically pacing up and down my room.
"Oh, my God, transfer the call to me! I'll pretend to be you!"
"That's not possible, Tori."
If it wasn't, I didn't know how to do it.
I ran a hand through my hair and moved my phone away from my ear, staring at the screen in horror, unable to stop my hand from shaking.
I sat down and stared at my phone until the call went to voice-mail. I could hear Tori's voice saying something over the phone but couldn't process what she was saying. When Christian tried calling again, I did the unthinkable. I hung up on Tori and impulsively answered his call.
I regretted my decision the moment I heard the words, "Hey, this is Christian Ryder."