Ian didn’t seem startled, so this must have been part of having a personal assistant. Ian greeted Eddie J warmly, but then his assistant pushed him aside and came straight over to me.
Eddie J was probably two inches shorter than I was. He had dark hair, artfully styled, and a fashion sense that my great-nana would have called loud.
Ian had told me that Eddie J was born in LA, but his parents were Filipino immigrants. They loved their gay son, who had been obsessed with the movie industry from a very young age. He was now in his early thirties and worked for one of the biggest stars on the planet.
Eddie J had been a PA—production assistant—on one of Ian’s earliest films. When Ian had needed more help managing his day-to-day life, he’d remembered the exuberant, funny, kindhearted gossip king who’d always made a point to see if Ian needed anything on set. Eddie J had been working for Ian ever since.
I could not imagine that he and I had one single thing in common. But when he grinned at me and pulled me into a bone-crushing hug, I immediately felt like he was on my team. That as long as I had either Ian or Eddie J by my side this weekend, everything would be okay.
“Oh my God. I have beendyingto meet you,” he said, finally releasing me.
He wore black horn-rimmed glasses that looked more trendy than functional, but they suited his face and his slender, dark eyes.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” I told him, meaning it. It was good to know Ian had people like Darren and Sophia and Eddie J in his life. People he could trust.
“Sophia brags all the time, that brat.” His tone was teasing and affectionate, and it made me laugh to think that she’d been holding something as insignificant as seeing me daily over this man’s head.
“Well, I’m all yours this weekend,” I said. “But Sophia is probably getting off way easier with George. I might be a handful to babysit. I don’t know how any of this works.”
Ian opened his mouth—undoubtedly to reassure me, as he’d been doing nonstop since I’d agreed to come. But Eddie J winked and spoke first. “Stick with me, kid. We’ll have you red-carpet ready in no time.”
I didn’t know about that, but I smiled gratefully anyway.
Eddie J took the next half hour to go over Ian’s schedule for the weekend. I wasn’t sure if I was needed for this part, so I poured another cup of coffee and tried to sneak out of the room. But Ian snagged my hand and pulled me onto his lap as Eddie J ran through logistics and people Ian would be meeting with.
It all sounded overwhelming to me. So much to do and so many folks needing Ian’s attention and input. Did he ever manage to sleep?
If George had come to California with us, would he have even been able to see Ian?
Truthfully, I was grateful that George had stayed behind with Sophia. Not that I wouldn’t have loved having him with us, but I had a feeling that the kid would not have been included in many of these plans.
Back in Kirby Falls, he could spend time with my family and visit Ralph and the fields the way he liked. George could have a normal life in my hometown. He was still the nephew of a famous actor, but he didn’t have to actively worry about being photographed by paparazzi or have every second of his life micromanaged ... the way Ian’s was right now.
Face alert and attentive, Ian nodded along to whatever Eddie J was saying, occasionally adding things into his notes app on his phone with one hand while the other was steady on my thigh.
“And first up, you have a quick meet-and-greet brunch this morning with some fans,” the assistant noted. “The studio invited influencers in ahead of the tour. It should only take about an hour. Joan, you can come to that and hang with me.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Eddie J appeared pleased, and so did Ian. It felt like I’d given the right answer to a pop quiz. However, uneasiness lingered, a tightness in my midsection that said I was nervous, unsteady, and painfully out of my element.
Maybe it was just the jet lag. Once I adjusted, everything would look brighter.
Three hours later, what really surprised me most was the amount of screaming.
I’d thought these sorts of reactions were an exaggeration, born from the Elvis Presley and Beatles era. Maybe New Kids on the Block or Harry Styles. But no, these influencers were squealing with delight, in pitch and volume, with frightening regularity.
“It’s always like this,” Eddie J said, as if reading my mind.
We were at a trendy restaurant in Westlake. The studio, or production company or whoever, had reserved one of the private dining rooms, and there was a spread of brunch foods and a mimosa bar for those in attendance.
Darren was posted very close to Ian while Eddie J and I watched from the wings.
Despite the chaos and clamor of twenty-five big-name social media personalities who all wanted their allotted time with the celebrity, Ian was amazing at making everyone feel seen. He carried on genuine conversations. He put people at ease. Like right now, with the young man who was so overwhelmed he was near tears.
I watched as Ian asked a passing server for a glass of water and presented it to the person who was supposed to be interviewing him, who was here specifically to make content to promote Ian’s new film. The young man accepted the water gratefully and gradually composed himself.
“He’s always like that, too,” Eddie J added. “Probably the nicest celebrity any of these people will ever meet. Except for maybe Pedro Pascal. Nobody tops Daddy Pedro. At leastIhaven’t yet.”
