My Double Life (23 page)

She looked around at the boxes and bags still surrounding her as though seeing them for the first time. “It isn’t my fault, though. I have to do something when I’m upset. And everyone saw those pictures in the tabloids.” She reached into a bag and pulled out a cream leather miniskirt. She laid it across her lap, smoothing it out with the care of someone caressing a new baby blanket. “I looked so beautiful in the store when I tried this on. The owner herself picked it out, and the salesgirls said I should wear it in my next video. I can’t take this back.” She shrugged and her eyes teared up. “I can’t take any of it back. People will talk, and they’re already bad-mouthing me. They think I’m cheating on my boyfriend.”

So this shopping binge was my fault. I stared at a pair of snakeskin pumps and wondered how much they cost. “I’m sorry about the pictures,” I said. “I didn’t mean for things to go that far.” I walked to the wall where Kari sat and slid down beside her. “I was too in love with Grant to think about it clearly. But it’s going to be okay now. I broke up with him.”

Kari gave a half grunt. “No wonder you look so terrible.” She took the miniskirt from her lap and put it on mine. “Here, you need this more than I do.”

“Maren won’t let either of us keep it.”

“You don’t think I can get around her?” Kari stood, went to one of the antique chests in the entryway, and put the skirt inside. She sat back down against the wall right before Maren came inside again. Without speaking to either one of us, Maren picked up two more bags and a couple of shoe boxes. She tucked them under her arms and headed back outside to her car.

Kari opened a box that sat at her side. She gingerly pulled apart a Styrofoam container and took out a shiny Siamese cat figurine no larger than her palm. “Do you like it?” She turned the cat over in her hands. “I always wanted a kitten when I was little, but I’m allergic, so my dad bought me the glass kind. I have over a hundred now.”

I looked at the cat in her hand, and I swallowed hard. “He loves you, you know.”

She shook her head and wouldn’t stop shaking it. “He cut me off. Won’t give me another cent. He doesn’t like how I spend my money, but the thing is, he’s the reason I keep spending it.” Her hand tightened on the cat. “I used to drink when I got upset—like Lorna wrote in her book. He made me promise I’d stop. So now I only gamble or go shopping when I’m upset, and why can’t everybody be glad it’s not worse than that?” She raised the cat above her head. “It’s his fault for not caring, and your fault for those stupid pictures, and Maren’s fault for letting me keep my credit cards when she knows I’m a compulsive shopper.” At the last word, she threw the cat against the wall and it exploded into a hundred shards of glass.

“Well,” she said with satisfaction. “I guess Maren won’t be returning that.”

I winced at the mess and couldn’t help the words that popped out of my mouth. “How much did that cost?”

She picked up the box and threw it against the wall too. “Not much. Probably about ten minutes of your next event.”

“I’m not doing any more appearances for you. I already told Maren that I quit, and besides, you just fired me.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Well, now I’m unfiring you. Instead I want you to work overtime. You owe me that much.”

I shook my head. “I came here to tell you good-bye.” The words got hard to say. I had to push out the rest. “If you ever want to call or text something—I’d really like that.”

Kari’s voice raised an octave, her face flushed with panic. “You can’t leave! I need you!”

I hadn’t heard Maren come back inside, but she was there gathering up another armful of things. “That’s another reason you need to cut back on your expenses, Kari. Alexia is tired of being you.”

“You’re tired of being me?” Kari repeated each word as though they’d come with a slap in the face.

“It’s not that.” I watched as Maren headed back out the door, and I lowered my voice. “I never should have done this in the first place. It ended up hurting people.”

Kari put her hand on my arm. “But I forgive you about Grant. You don’t have to leave because of that.”

I was glad she forgave me and wished Grant’s forgiveness could have been so easily obtained. “Thanks,” I said. “But I need to go home. I have a present to give you before I leave, though.” I pulled the chain upward, revealing the sapphire pendant. As I spoke, I ran my thumb over its surface, saying good-bye to it. “My dad gave this to my mom before he left her. It’s the only thing he ever gave us. You know how you never knew your mom? Well, I never knew my dad. I know how that feels, to grow up missing a piece of you like that.” I took the necklace off and held it out to her. “I want you to have this.”

I had expected her to be touched, moved by the gesture. Instead her eyes looked at the necklace in horror. “I can’t take that.”

“I want you to. And when you wear it, you can remember you’re not alone. You have so many people who love you—your fans, your father, me.”

She shook her head and then crossed her arms as though to make sure I didn’t put it in her hand. “Don’t say you love me—you don’t even care what happens. You’re leaving when I need you more than ever. I’m not going out in public anymore. I’m not.”

“Kari, you dance and sing better than I ever could. You can do everything I’ve done.”

“I can’t. I’m never going where the paparazzi can find me again.” She put her head down on her knees and let out a moan. I had no idea what I’d said that had upset her, but then I heard Maren’s voice. She’d come back inside and instead of picking up the remaining bags, she stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. “Kari, did you say something to the press while you were out today?”

Kari moaned again.

“What did you say this time?”

Kari didn’t answer.

Maren walked over to Kari, hands still on her hips. “Just tell me how bad it was.”

Kari peered over her knees, hugging her legs. “I tried to avoid them. I wore sunglasses and a hat. Someone at Gucci must have tipped them off. When I came out of the store, a cameraman was waiting. He asked if I was dating both Michael and Grant.”

Maren put her hand on her temple. “What did you say?”

“Not at the same time.”

Maren groaned and shut her eyes.

Kari held a hand out in her defense. “What could I say? Everyone has seen those pictures of me kissing Grant.”

Maren looked at the ceiling and sighed. “You couldn’t have thought of something that wasn’t quite so incriminating?”

“I don’t think well when cameras are in my face.” Kari put her head back on her knees. “So I’m not going out in public again. Ever.”

Maren let her gaze fall back onto Kari. “You have the concert in San Diego in exactly one week.”

“And I’m not doing it.”

“You have to. You need the money. You’ll lose your house if you miss more payments.”

Kari lifted her head enough to look at me. “Alexia can do it.”

I shook my head. “No, I can’t.”

She blinked, and new tears ran down her cheeks. “My boyfriend thinks I’m sneaking around with Grant Delray. And I can’t blame him, since the rest of the world thinks it too. They all hate me. If you’d kept away from Grant like you were supposed to, none of this would have happened. And now you’re leaving me. Thanks a million. It’s about what I’m short.”

I stared at her openmouthed. I did feel awful about what I’d done, but I didn’t want to stay another minute. Besides, it was one thing to lip-synch a few songs at a rodeo or places like that; it was another thing to do a real concert. Those were major productions. Despite Jacqueline’s training, I didn’t have the skill to pull it off.

“I can’t do that many dance routines, and besides, your backup dancers won’t be fooled by me. They’ll know I’m an imposter.”

Kari nodded as though making a mental list. “We’ll have to get new backup dancers.”

I turned to Maren, waiting for her to step in and point out the impossibility of me performing a full-blown concert in a week. Instead her gaze grew calculating. She looked first at me and then at Kari. “I’ll help Alexia pull it off on one condition.”

“What?” I asked—although I meant
What are you talking about?
and not
What is your one condition?

Maren ignored me. “Kari, you have to enter some sort of treatment program.”

Kari let her knees drop down to the floor. “You think I need to go to rehab?”

“You need help dealing with your problems in a healthy way.”

Kari folded her arms and looked away from us. “I don’t. No.”

Maren picked up the last of the bags, but instead of holding it, she dropped it into Kari’s lap. “Fine, then, Alexia goes home, I quit, and you can figure out how to pay your bills on your own.”

Kari grabbed hold of the bag, until the paper crackled in protest. “The press will eat me alive if I’m in rehab. I’ll lose the rest of my product endorsements.”

“They won’t know,” Maren said, “because Alexia will put on your concert.”

“Wait a minute—” I said, but neither of them listened.

Kari let out a groan. “All right. You win. I’ll go to rehab.”

“Good. After I check you in, I’ll see to it that Alexia is ready.” Maren eyed me as though I were a dress that needed serious alterations.

“I never said I would do this,” I protested.

Maren raised one eyebrow at me coolly. “You’re saying this after you just told Kari how much you cared about her? If you meant it, you’d want her to get help.”

I looked at Kari, at her eyes that were puffy from crying. She’d not only lost her boyfriend, she was going to have to endure more public mocking, and it was my fault. How could I not agree? I lifted my hands, then let them drop. “Okay, I’ll do the concert, but when it’s over I’m going home.” I stood up, so frustrated I wanted to kick something. I should have left when I could have. I should have mailed the stupid necklace to her. “The taxi driver is still waiting. I’d better tell him he can leave.”

Maren smiled. “I already did.”

Which meant she had known all along I would be staying. I glared at her, but she turned away from me, picked up the last of Kari’s purchases, and went back to her car.

For the next six days, I did nothing but work on my dance routines. All sorts of new moves were added for the concert. For the first number I came up onstage through an elevator in the floor while flares went off. I performed one song on a swing—sometimes standing on it, sometimes sitting and swinging, sometimes twirling around until I couldn’t see straight. By the end of the second day of practice, I’d heard Kari’s songs played so relentlessly that I hated every single one.

I worked with a set of backup dancers that Maren had hired just for the concert. They picked up the routines effortlessly while I struggled and forgot what moves came next. And they had even harder parts than I did.

The entertainment shows gave Kari’s botched dating explanation a lot of play time. The late-night shows commented on it too. They said things like “Well, who would have thought? It looks like Kari Kingsley is a natural blonde, after all.”

I winced every time someone said something about her. I couldn’t forget that the pictures with Grant were my fault. I was just glad Kari wasn’t allowed to watch TV in the treatment center. She was off in the Utah mountains somewhere, getting in touch with her core values and working on her inner strength. Her album’s release date was pushed back again.

She called me a couple of times during the week to see how things were going. I practically begged her to come back and do the concert every time I talked to her, which is perhaps why she didn’t call more often. And despite the fact that she was working on her lack of inner strength, she always found enough inner strength to turn me down. “I need to be here,” she said. “I’m learning all sorts of stuff about myself.”

And I learned all sorts of stuff about myself too. Like the fact that I could barely walk after doing leg kicks for half the day.

Grant texted me after Kari’s impromptu street interview first came out. He wrote, “I’m not surprised that you lied about us. I just can’t figure out why you play dumb in front of the camera. What’s with that?”

I didn’t know how to reply. I must have stared at my phone for ten minutes. I wanted to call him. I wanted to hear his voice. A part of me still wished that somehow I could make things work out between us. I couldn’t call, though. He would ask too many questions I couldn’t answer. I texted back, “I’m sorry.”

On the day of the concert, I was so nervous I could hardly eat. For once Maren had to force me to put food in my mouth. She said I’d need all the energy I could get.

I practiced in the morning at the concert hall and we ran through everything. The tech people kept adjusting the lights, the sound, and special effects, but the dance routines went okay. I made a few mistakes. I wasn’t used to the huge spotlights or firework fountains shooting off around me.