Reuniting Reality
Nikki LeClair
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
AUTHORS NOTE
To Monica and Josemine.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and Characters are the products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the authors prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent author. The author does not own the brands or any celebrity mentioned. @NikkiLeClair
Chapter One
This is not a problem.
I can’t totally do this.
I mean, it’s about the size of cell phone! I could put it in my pocket. I won’t, though, because that would be gross.
It’s just a scaly, green, curly-tailed cell phone, if you really think about it.
Really, really, really, think about it.
Except that it’s not.
It’s a green lizard with bright yellow eyes and weird dark patches all up its back. Gross! Is that—is that an orange tongue? Why is its tongue orange? Shouldn’t it be red?
I peer away from the reptile in the palm of my hand and hold in a gasp.
He doesn’t look very, well. What if, she gave me a sick reptile? What if he has some weird lizard disease that will turn my skin green and give me scales?
My hair will fall out and my head will reshape into a morbid cone!
Well, okay, maybe not exactly like what happened in that B movie I watched with Angie last night. Attack of the Lizard King, or was it Attack of the Lizard Duke?
I can feel my hand jittering to drop the creature. Just as I’m about to decide the measly three grand isn’t worth this, Pet Shop Owner Mindy, sweeps the lizard from the palm of my hand and lifts it so the crowd can see. She smiles and gestures at the reptile, as I awkwardly wipe my hands against my butt while trying to relax my tight grin. The crowd claps and “awws” at the lizard as she walks back to the long table on the small stage and places it back into its glass cage.
I gaze into the crowd; nobody is even looking at me. It’s a crowd of moms with toddlers, and children who couldn’t be more than eleven or twelve. They’re all fixated on the wooden table that holds several different reptiles. I doubt any of them even know who I am.
Not even my agent, Finley Duncan, is looking at me. His head is down, and his fingers tap feverishly over the screen of his cell phone. He looks as out of place as I do, in his Hugo Boss navy blue suit and orange tie. His light brown hair slicked back, and there’s a look of worry as his forehead creases. A few moms glance his way, admiring his obvious good in the best subtle way they can.
My eyes slip off him, until I spot another familiar face in the crowd. A tall, thin man with reddish hair, and black framed glasses. He’s in a grey cardigan and matching grey pants. On his back is his favorite dark green army backpack with added pockets and solar panels.
My number one fan, Edwin. However, not even he is looking at me. Like my agent, his eyes are fixated on his cellphone.
Great. I’m becoming so boring I’m losing the interest of my only fan.
“And finally, it’s time to bring out our guest of honor!” Pet Keeper Mindy shouts to the crowd.
I peer over at her. Wasn’t I the guest of honor? Isn’t that what the posters said?
Correction.
Poster.
An 8x10 print out, hanging on the glass doors of this tiny pet shop. After Finley bragged about all the publicity this event was getting, I found out yesterday there is only a Facebook event page and a small poster. With a picture of me almost three years old.
When I sported a spur of the moment, angled shoulder length cut, which did nothing for my round face. Neither did the blond highlights I had throughout my dark hair.
I was also fifteen pounds heavier.
Coming out of a torturous divorce did not bode well with me.
I snap out of my self-inflicted pity party as the spectators gasp with delight. A few of them give a shout. Pet Owner Mindy has wrenched out a brown ball of fur about the size of her palm.
It’s most definitely not a ball of fur though, and I hold in a shake of repulsion when the ball of fur expands its eight legs over Mind’s palm. She gives a giggle as she shows the crowd.
“This is Legs. She’s our most prized possession and not for sale, but we do have a few of her babies left that you can purchase. Legs is a Red Rump Tarantula, and she comes from Mexico! She’s very old now, and very docile. When she was young and felt threatened, she would flick these tiny hairs at whoever was attacking her. They were very itchy and if one got in your eye or mouth...ouch!” Mindy pinches at the corner of her mouth and the crowd of children gasps.
I can’t believe she’s telling this to these kids. She’s going to give them all nightmares!
Mindy begins to walk towards me, slowly and casually, as she looks out in the crowd. “So let’s get our helpful helper Julie, to take Legs for me while I hand out some flyers about our upcoming Spiders and Snakes show! Lots of fun games planned for you all that night, and a special adopt-a-thon!”
Mindy reaches me and smiles, picking up Leg’s by the body with her other hand and motioning for me to put out my own palm.
Not. Happening.
“No, no way,” I proclaim, both my hands shake at her. “No, spiders are off limits.”
Mindy laughs and gives the crowd a quick glance, “Looks like somebody is about to conquer one of their fears today!” A few of the kids burst with childlike laughter and it makes me grimace.
That’s not even funny, why the hell are they laughing?
Mindy pushes the spider at me and I take a sudden step back. “Don’t be scared, Julie. Remember that Legs here is more scared of you, then you are of her.”
“I doubt that,” I retort, looking at the spider that hangs in mid-air. Two of its legs twitch and I shudder. “No, sorry, really I just can’t.”
Mindy’s smile stays put, but I can see the muscles around her mouth tighten and her teeth come together. She speaks through her closed smile, “It’s in your stupid contract, now take the dumb spider.”
My mouth drops open a little bit but when I see the spider squirm again in the air, I take another step back. “I said I can’t. Sorry.”
Mindy lets out an obvious fake giggle to please the onlookers and gets closer to me. “Go on Julie! Nothing to be scared of! Let’s give her some support everyone! Julie! Julie! Julie!” Her chanting causes half the kids to join along but none of the mothers.
But the spider’s legs flail again and I shake my head as I take another step back. “No.”
Mindy’s blue eyes flash with annoyance but she continues chanting my name with the crowd as she takes two steps closer to me. I grunt and push her arm away rou
ghly as I take another step back. Mindy’s hand gives way and the spider drops as she gasps loudly. The kids scream and the mothers cry out.
I suddenly realize I don’t have any footing behind me either. My foot gives way and I tumble backwards, off the two foot high display stage and onto something very hard and crunchy.
Mindy screams as she looks down at me and from the corner of my eye, the crowd of children and mothers get more rowdy. A few toddlers burst into tears and scream for their mother’s arms, a couple of rowdy older children begin running around the store.
Meanwhile, Mindy is pointing and glaring at me hatefully. “Get up! Get up now!”
I push my hands against the tile floor and I notice shards of glass surrounding me. There’s a small trickle of blood escaping my left palm. Now is when I notice that my right butt is throbbing.
What the hell did I land on?
Something chirps, catching my attention. I look at my knees; three crickets sit on my left knee cap, chirping at me.
Oh God.
I let out a cry and push myself to my feet, swatting at my knees and backside as if I was on fire. “Gross, gross, gross!”
I can hear some kids laugh through the chaos, while behind me Mindy yells, “Oh shit, has anybody seen Legs? Has anybody seen the spider? Did it shatter?!”
Forty-five minutes later, I’m standing outside of the pet store, still swatting at parts of my body that tingle. Just in case. Finley is inside, dealing with Mindy and her husband, while the crowd of angry mothers and children has finally disappeared. I stare at the 8x10 poster of myself hanging on the door of the shop as I play with my cat eye brooch clipped on my jean jacket.
I’m in a pair of jeans and a yellow blouse with a black statement necklace. The heavy eyeliner and bright pink eyeshadow catch my eye. I look like I belonged on Roseanne.
I can’t believe I looked like that for a full year.
“It wasn’t so bad,” Edwin’s high voice comes into my ear and I gaze over at him.
“It was bad, Edwin,” I sigh. “I killed thirty something crickets with my butt and lost a one-of-a-kind spider.”
He shrugs, his glasses coming off his nose a bit as he does, but he doesn’t offer any kind words of encouragement. Probably because he knows it really was bad.
Edwin doesn’t look like somebody who would be a fan of mine; he carries limited edition comic books in his bag and travels to comic cons almost monthly. He says my former show was a guilty pleasure of his. Now he follows me around to every event I do, and updates my fan site page. Two years ago it was daily, now he only needs to update it weekly. Sometimes monthly.
“Tomorrow’s grocery store opening will be better,” Edwin says after a few awkward moments of silence.
“Oh right, that,” I say. “You don’t have to be there you know.”
I know what he’ll say. He’ll say “I wouldn’t miss it, you know that” or “Heck yes I will be there!” enthusiastically. I’ll roll my eyes and smirk.
So I wait for it.
But it doesn’t come. Instead Edwin just gives me a small smile and takes out his phone when it beeps.
That’s it?
Great. My only fan is starting to think I’m pathetic.
The door to the pet store opens and Finley comes out looking annoyed, eyebrows raised high. I make a face, “I take it, it did not go well?”
Finley takes a breath and slips his hands into his suit pocket. “No, it did not go well. They’ve deducted three hundred dollars for the glass cage of crickets you broke, and for the dead crickets. Another two hundred because the Spiders and Snakes event only got three sign ups and they threatened to blast you on social media if you didn’t cover the loss. Oh, and if they can’t find the spider you owe them another five hundred dollars.”
I gasp and next to me Edwin grimaces.
I run a hand through my long hair. “It’s an ugly spider! I could go down the street to the bigger pet store and buy one for a hundred bucks for them! It’d probably be prettier too!”
“Or you could just get into my car and go home.” Finley gestures towards his Jaguar, parked against the sidewalk. He pats my shoulder and walks around me and my rage. “Edwin? Need a ride?”
“No thanks,” Edwin answers. “I have to meet some friends at a gaming cafe about three blocks down so I can walk.” I watch as he gives me a small smile and begins to back away. “See you tomorrow, Jules.”
“Bye.”
I’m just about to head towards Finley’s car, where he waits for me, when I see Mindy appear on the other side of the door, behind my poster. Her frown is menacing and she yanks off my poster, ripping it in two pieces as she stares at me.
I stick my tongue out viciously before turning my back on her.
“Making $2500 is still pretty good, Jules, and who knows? Maybe they’ll find the spider.”
My younger sister Angela looks up at me with a small smile as she stirs the chili at the stove. She’s my polar opposite, but identical to our mother. She has a tall, slim figure, deep blue eyes and curly blond hair. Yet unlike our famous mother, Angie is shy and a loner. She chooses to be holed up in our condo making her brooches and selling them online under a fake name.
Not that I blame her, having our family last name isn’t exactly easy. Living under our mother’s shadow can be nerve-wrecking. Sometimes good things don’t come from it, case in point, my life and career.
I love Angie’s brooches though. The cat eye one on my jean jacket is one of my favorites, with a wispy eye, and a black Swarovski pupil. Two years ago, when she gifted it to me, I told her that she’d be the sole reason brooches would come back in style. Last year, they started popping up everywhere and some magazines credited her, B.B. Brooches with starting the trend.
Her website blew up afterwards, and there’s been a waitlist for her designer brooches ever since. All the while she’s been keeping her identity a secret.
I hunch over the island counter, my legs hanging off the bar stool. “The point is, I’m sick of this kind of stuff. I hate it. I don’t know why I keep doing it.”
“Because you need to make money,” Finley reminds me. “So that maybe one day, you can finally pay me.” I can picture him behind me, in the living room, slumped into Angie’s navy blue armchair, concentrated on his phone as usual.
“You’re family, you’re supposed to work for me for free,” I complain.
“No, not really.”
Finley isn’t only my agent, he’s my older brother and the apple of our mother’s eye. He became my agent five years ago, when our mother didn’t trust the one that I was provided with. In the last five years, he’s made a success of himself, managing a handful of TV actors and even one retired basketball star. And then there’s me. A C-lister. Or is D-list more appropriate?
“I’m going to try and get a real job again,” I declare loudly.
“What kind?” Finley asks. “You aren’t really qualified for anything.”
“I am too,” I snap in offence. I think for a moment. “I could always go back into retail.”
Angie hisses through her teeth as she looks over at me. “You got fired from three boutiques last year, remember?”
I crinkle my nose. “Right, well, they should really train their employees how to deal with difficult customers. That rich banker lady was asking for a shove back when she pushed me into the coat rack.”
Angie giggles and shakes her head, tasting her chili slowly.
“The grocery store opening will bring you another grand,” Finley says behind me.
I drop my head in my hands and groan, “I don’t want to do that.”
“Too bad,” Finley says.
“I didn’t sign a contract yet, Fin,” I mumble in my forearms. “Tell them I’m deathly ill. Or that I’m dead. From a vicious spider bite at a shady pet store.”
“You need money, Jules,” Finley states. “Unless you want to ask our dearly devoted mot
her for a loan?”
I pull my head up and practically scream, “No! I would rather die.”
Finley lets out a loud breath. “Then grocery store opening it is. I’ll try to find something else for you, something better, soon.”
“I thought you had something better already?” Angie frowns as she puts the cover on the pot of chili. She then walks closer to me and looks over at Finley.
I spin around on the bar stool and look at my brother. “You do?”
He’s slumped in the armchair, his suit jacket bundles beneath him and he grip’s his phone. He’s looking square at Angie though, “I told you I wanted to break it to her gently…”
“Now’s as good a time as ever,” Angie declares. “I don’t think she can feel any lower.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Great! What is it? Playing Winnie the Pooh at a child's birthday party? Travelling with a circus?”
Finley sits up, sets his hands on his knees. “Okay. I wanted to wait a few days until I could get more information but seeing as Ange just threw me under the bus…” He throws her an ungrateful glare and from the corner of my eye I can see her shrug at him. “Daughters f Famous Mothers wants to do a reunion show. They want to start filming in two weeks. It would happen over the course of seven days, maybe even less depending on material. Original cast, huge payouts. Huge, Julie. I’m talking quarter of a mil each, plus sponsorships. Remember how much you made just from sponsors?”
His enthusiasm falls on deaf ears.
From the moment he says “Reunion show”, I’ve zonked out. I’ve frozen in place, hearing nothing but my heart beat wildly in my ears.
Flashbacks of hair teasing, breakouts from copious amounts of make-up, hit me. Catfights, hair-pulling, the camera crew snickering behind the cameras. A botched fashion show. A shady producer and rating hungry director.
I’m gripping my kneecaps so tightly my fingers start to ache.
“Julie?” Ange says my name softly as she puts a hand on my shoulder. “I think she’s having a nervous breakdown.”
“I don’t know,” Fin whispers back. “She’s kind of just staring off into space…”
Reuniting Reality Page 1