The Cost of Fame

By Ceara A. Davis

Ellis Reeves is a pretty average woman. She has best friends, has a family of sorts. A pretty normal person in anyones book. Except maybe the fact that shes a famous actress, known for her love of the Arts. And the fact that shes trying to ignore a dark past that she cant seem to leave behind. But even Ellis will have to learn that just when you think youve left the past behind, it comes rushing back to live in the present- and thats the best time to defeat it. But even after overcoming the past, will she be able to overcome the cost of fame?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 25, 2013
• ISBN: 9781453597453

Ceara A. Davis

Ceara Davis was born in Queens, NY, and has since then lived in a variety of locations in and outside of NY and the United States. She currently lives in Huntsville, AL, and hopes that she will later be able to move to Canada.

Book preview

Part One

Chapter One

I couldn’t run down the street. It would so end in disaster if I ran down the street, because not only could I not run, but I was wearing heels. How was I supposed to run in heels?

Why are you slowing down?!! Haley cried.

It was midnight. We were running together through the streets of Toronto, in Ontario, Canada, trying to escape from the hundred-odd fans that were chasing us with hopes of getting autographs or pictures taken with us. This was the fourth time this week that this was happening, and it was only Tuesday.

My feet hurt! I replied breathlessly. Really badly. I don’t think I can run for much longer, Hales.

We were approaching the end of the block, and would soon have to make the decision of which direction to turn next.

Well, find a way!

I don’t want… to find… a way. I want… a taxi! I huffed. Then why don’t you make one appear! she shouted back at me. Just then, an empty taxi cab rounded the corner, heading towards us. Haley paused, then approached the curb of the sidewalk to flag the cab down. By the time I caught up to her, the cab had stopped in the street, allowing us to catch up to it, and hop in. We hopped in. 131st Street. Haley said to the cab driver, a middle-aged man in a red knit cap, a green vest, and jeans. He nodded, then took off driving down the street.

In driving, we passed the hundred-odd fans that still thought that they were chasing Haley and I. I watched them as we passed. Then they were gone. It was only us, and the taxi cab driver, and Haley was saying something.

Chapter Two

I wish you would teach me how to do that, Ellis, Haley said.

Do what?

That thing you do. You have something you want, decide that you’re gonna get it, and then—boom! It’s there.

Haley was in the taxi’s passenger seat, and I was in the back seat, on the left side of the car. I stared out the back seat window as I played with a bit of frayed fabric on my car door. You do that too, Hales. More often than I.

You know I can’t do it like you can, though. She leaned her head back on the seat’s headrest. Gosh, El. You know I can’t. Think. If I were the one who had wanted this taxi, it wouldn’t have come. Or else it wouldn’t have stopped for us, or we wouldn’t have had money for cab fare.

Yes, we have cab fare, Haley said to the cab driver. She continued speaking to me. The point I make is, I’d have had to call for a car, or coerce this guy here into giving us a ride even without us having any money, she said while gesturing to our driver, but you just say ‘I want a taxi’ and it’s there. That’s how it always happens, she said, a little begrudgingly.

We arrived on 131st Street seventeen minutes later, after a very silent ride filled with our driver glancing to the left at Haley, looking through the rearview mirror at me, clearly wondering what kind of drama he had accidentally let walk into his taxi.

Haley and I did not live on 131st Street, by the way. However, there was a 24/7 parking garage one block over, on 132nd Street where we paid the owner of the place, a Mr. Farn, to always keep a car for us just in case we ever needed one. Mr. Farn always left a variety of car keys with his toll booth guys for us, for whenever we stopped by, so we could choose from a selection of cars. Tonight, Haley and I were planning to use one of these cars to get home. Now, I know what you’re thinking; why not just take the taxi cab all the way home? Well, it’s just that that would’ve been… difficult to deal with, if anyone but close friends and family knew where Haley and I lived.

The taxi driver pulled up to the curb. That’ll be ten-fifty. he said. Haley got out of the cab and waited on the sidewalk as I paid the driver. When I got out of the car, we started to walk away. Suddenly the driver called out. Hey!

Haley paused. I turned around and walked back to the car. What? I said to the taxi man. We spoke through the open passenger window. He hesitated a moment, as if trying to think of a good way to say what he wanted to say next. Come on Quack, Haley called to me. I haven’t got all night. It was now twelve thirty-five AM.

I turned my head. In a moment, Nut. I called back to her. "Oh, that’s hurtful. Why am I the nut? Why am I the Quack? I asked her in my mind. Don’t worry, I said aloud. I still love you, even if you are a nut. Don’t make me sock you, El. I will." I turned my attention back to the cab driver.

His expression was shocked. It seemed like he had forgotten the question he had originally wanted to ask. Instead, he looked back and forth between Haley and I, asking a new question. Hey… hey, aren’t you two the Reeves sisters?! F-from that commercial—movie? No—no, music vid-

I sighed. All three, actually, and Here we go again, I thought. No, not again, I complained to myself. Not again. Just go home, Mr. Taxi Man. Leave us in peace.

Mr. Taxi Man’s face suddenly changed, as if he were embarrassed with himself. No, no. Of course you’re not them. Sorry, sorry. Goodnight girls, be safe. And then he was off, down the street and around the corner before I even had time to blink.

Chapter Three

When I was in fifth grade, people—parents, teachers, counselors, and the like—used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I never did understand this question; a better question to ask would’ve been what I wanted to be when I was old enough for it to matter to me. However, the answer to both questions was the same, so I suppose the first question, in the form it was asked, was sufficient.

What do you want to be when you grow up, Ellis? they’d ask. Myself, I’d respond. People learned to expect this answer from me. It was alright not to know, they’d say, because a lot of people never decided on