* * *
The next day Grant e-mailed me an updated version of our song. He not only sent the sheet music, he also sent a video of him singing his part so I could practice.
Maren wasn't around. She'd gone to the studio to keep an eye on Kari. So I sat in the living room practicing the duet until I had the words memorized. I tried to sound like Kari. I tried to copy her strong, rich voice. The good news: I sounded pretty good, light and lyrical. The bad news: It didn’t matter how many times I repeated it, I didn't sound like Kari. I still sounded like me.
What was I going to do next time I saw him? He'd want to practice it. I would have to fake some horrible sore throat, and how long would he buy that?
It’s funny how sometimes you worry about things turning out badly, but you don't even consider that they could actually end up much worse.
The next day, while I was doing homework, Maren came home from one of her outings with Kari. Without speaking, she dropped two tabloids on the table next to me.
On the front page of one, I walked out of the restaurant by Grant’s side; in the other, I kissed Grant in his car. The headlines of the first read "Kari and Grant’s Secret Weekend Getaway!” The second said "Kari Cheats on Michael!” As I stared at them, Maren’s words dropped down to me like falling ice chunks. "Kari’s friends have called her about these. Michael has seen them too. You can imagine the day I’ve had.”
"I'm sorry—"
She flung one hand out in my direction. "Oh, I did a great job of transforming you into Kari. Even Kari's boyfriend thought it was her.”
My stomach clenched. "Is he really upset?"
"We’ll know how mad he is just as soon as he starts speaking to her again."
“I didn’t mean—"
She put her hands on the table, leaned toward me, and yelled, "I don’t care what you meant! What did you think you were doing, sneaking around with Grant Delray?”
I couldn’t answer her. It didn't matter; she didn't wait for my reply. "You will call him right now and break up with him. Then you’re never to go near him again. Do you understand?”
I didn't move. Grant’s face looked up at me from the tabloid article, Grant’s perfectly chiseled face next to mine. Maren walked over to the coat closet where I kept my purse and yanked my cell phone out of it. She thrust it into my hand. "Do it now, or so help me, I'll call him as your assistant and break up with him for you. And I won’t be nice about it."
"No,” I said, "you’re not going to do that."
Her eyes hardened as though I’d offered a challenge and she opened my cell phone. "Watch me.”
I sat up straighter, holding my ground. "If you call him, I'll quit this job. How much money does Kari still owe to casinos and credit cards?"
Her fingers paused on the buttons as she considered my words.
"I know what matters to you,” I said. “You didn't arrange events to help Kari. You want to pay off Kari's debts so Alex Kingsley will be impressed with what a wonderful mother you'd be for her."
Maren slid the phone shut, but her expression seemed far from defeated. She dug through her purse, a sudden calmness about her. “You're right. You do know what I care about, but I know what you care about too.” She pulled two pieces of paper from her purse and held them up: an Alex Kingsley concert ticket and a backstage pass. "I'm just not sure why you care.”
She lowered her chin, waiting for my answer. When I remained silent, she let out a scoffing grunt. "He’s old enough to be your father, you know.”
"Yes, actually, I'm aware of that."
She tapped the ticket against the palm of her hand, watching me, calculating. Her lips turned up ever so slightly, more of a sneer than a smile. “Why throw away your job over Grant? He doesn't care about you anyway. You know that, don't you, Alexia? That Grant Delray doesn’t care about some little nobody from West Virginia. He likes Kari Kingsley. And no matter how much you look like her, you'll never be her. So it can’t work out between you.”
I didn't answer. I churned with anger, but I couldn’t argue with her. I’d thought the same things myself. I’d thought them and tried to dismiss them, but I was afraid they were true.
"We’ll make a deal.” Maren handed me my phone, then held the ticket and pass out to me. "You break up with Grant and you can have these. Otherwise the job is over and I’ll tell Alex’s staff to be on the watch for a Kari Kingsley impersonator— one who's a stalker and has delusions of actually being Kari. You’ll never get past security to meet him."
I stood up, mentally revising my opinion of Kari's lamp- throwing as a solution for dealing with problems. Chucking one of Maren’s lamps across the room seemed like a great idea. I didn’t do it, though. I guess I’d controlled my behavior as Kari for so long that controlling my behavior as Alexia didn't seem much harder.
Maren folded her arms, tucking the ticket and pass out of sight. "And don't even think about making trouble for me. Remember, I have sales receipts where you wrote Kari's name to buy clothes. Granted, it was part of our little game, but the law doesn't know that. If I reported that someone had taken one of Kari’s cards, the police would consider your signature forgery and identity theft." She took slow steps around me, circling the way vultures did. "I imagine Grant wouldn’t be impressed if you got hauled off to prison. And of course, Alex would really look down on someone with a criminal record. He’s funny that way. Was that how you wanted to meet him? Maybe he could come down to the police station to confirm that you’re not really his daughter."
With every sentence she spoke, I felt the blood drain from my face. Never once had I thought she would resort to blackmail. Now I realized I'd put myself at risk for that all along. Maren had given me a credit card in Kari’s name so I could sign for things while I pretended to be her. Of course it would seem to everyone like I’d stolen from Kari.
I felt a sick thud in my stomach. That's what my father's first impression of me would be—that I’d taken advantage of my resemblance to Kari in order to tap into one of her bank accounts.
"I have a copy of my job contract," I said. "Maybe the police would like to see that."
Maren flicked one hand as though shooing a fly. No concern, no glimmer of worry leaked from her eyes. "I'll say it's forged. Trust me, the police would believe Kari Kingsley’s manager and not the teenage girl who's used Kari's credit card." She shook her head, and this time the smile was real, almost sympathetic. "I should point out that your staff will be loyal to me. One thing you need to learn is that I always cover myself."
I clenched my hands together, feeling trapped. What proof did I have that everything I’d done had been under Maren's direction? I desperately tried to think of anything I could offer to the authorities on my behalf.
Maren took a step closer. "It doesn't have to come to that, of course. I really hope it doesn't. As of now, you still have a very lucrative job.” She held the ticket and the pass back out to me. "So which will you choose: Grant Delray, whom you can’t have anyway, or this job and a meeting with Alex Kingsley?"
At that moment, I looked at my life, a bystander for the first time, observing everything I'd done since I found out that Alex Kingsley was my father.
When I’d stormed away from my mom at the hotel, I’d told her I wanted to find out who I was. I'd found out. I was the type of girl who could be talked into doing things if the price was right, the type of girl who deceived thousands of people who’d paid to see a rock star sing. Worse yet, I'd lied to the guy I loved.