Roommates (Soulmates #1)

by Hazel Kelly

  I watched her wrap her delicate fingers around the stack of dishes. “Thanks,” I said, standing up.

  She walked around the counter to the sink and turned on the tap.

  “You know where you’re going today then?”

  She started to glance up at me but her eyes only got halfway up my chest before she looked back down at the bottom of the sink. “Yeah. I’m good.”

  “Great,” I said, walking back towards my room. “Well, break a leg.”

  “Thanks,” she said, letting her eyes meet mine for a second.

  But as I closed the door to my room, I had a horrible sinking feeling that the only thing at risk of getting broken here was my heart.

  All over again.

  Just like the day she got cast in the role of my stepsister.

  Chapter 5: Jenny

  My first impression of New York was that it was a hostile, loud, crazy place that didn’t love me back.

  I don’t know why I’d built it up in my mind as this OZ where the clouds were going to part, the sun was going to shine down on me, and my obvious talent and stage presence would be so apparent as I walked down the street that people would come up and say they were sure they recognized me from somewhere and could they have a selfie and an autograph.

  Instead, the overwhelming feeling I had- starting with the first horn that nearly gave me a heart attack- was that I was in everyone’s way.

  And not only was I in everyone’s way, but everyone was far more important than I was and they were headed somewhere far more important than where I was going.

  Which made it hard to cling to my energizing hopefulness.

  And as misplaced as my positivity probably was, I didn’t want to lose it because I knew I didn’t stand a chance in this city if I didn’t nurture my deluded self-belief.

  I’d read enough celebrity biographies to know that the only way I was ever going to make it in show businesses was if I was my biggest fan.

  So I couldn’t waiver in my confidence. I couldn’t doubt my destiny, and I couldn’t second guess my right to be here. Otherwise, everyone else would, too.

  Like the greats who went before me, I would embrace my triumphs as much as my failures, and I would constantly remind myself that only people who’ve made it have critics.

  After all, if I didn’t believe I had talent and that entertaining people was my true calling, I might just curl up under a blanket with a good book and never try to get on stage again.

  I certainly wouldn’t have climbed the steps onto that bus yesterday, the bus that brought me to the heart of the action and would someday be the bus that starred in my memories as the bus ride that changed it all.

  Cause there was no going back.

  If I wanted to be somebody someday, I had to keep my chin up despite feeling like this place was going to eat me alive and spit me out.

  If only my fearlessness wasn’t an act.

  If only I were brave like Ethan.

  I mean, he was the kind of tough I wanted to be. He didn’t give a shit what people thought of him. He did what he wanted to do, and he didn’t apologize for it.

  I never thought I’d say this about someone that got expelled from school, but I could learn a lot from him.

  Sure, I would be fine once the audition was underway. I always was. Being other people was what I was most comfortable with.

  It was those few minutes in the beginning when I had to introduce myself and be little ole Jennifer Layne from Middle of Freaking Nowhere, Ohio that terrified me.

  And by the seventh time a turning car honked at me, I thought I was going to burst into tears.

  Where I was from, nobody ever beeped at anyone- unless it was to get their attention so you could offer them a friendly wave.

  But this place was unsympathetic, and while I’d heard people say it was better to be a little fish in a big pond, I was starting to think maybe that saying hadn’t been thought through.

  I squeezed my way out of the herd of people I was traveling with to catch my breath, feeling like I finally understood what it must be like to be a wildebeest caught in a stampede.

  Once I had a bit of much needed personal space, I checked the street signs and then my map. I was only one street away and a full hour early. I put my stuff away, zipped my purse, and backed up against the wall of the department store behind me as I pulled out my phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Brandi, it’s me,” I said, covering my open ear so I could block out the chorus of honking taxis.

  “Me who?”

  “Jen!”

  “Oh my god. Jenny Layne. Gosh, I haven’t talked to you since you left for New York to become a big star.”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  “I’m so glad you haven’t forgotten the little people in your life now that you’re so busy drinking after work with Amy Schumer and Jennifer Lawrence.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, well. It hasn’t been all milk and cookies. Amy can be a bit needy.”

  “I bet. All the funniest people are.”

  I cocked my head. “Are you done?”

  “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

  “My audition is soon, and I need someone to tell me what an awesome big deal I am because it seems like no one in this city got the memo.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “That’s going to make your rapid rise to stardom all the more sweet.”

  “Go on.”

  “Just make sure you notice who’s the most rude to you so you can snub them once you’re a big star.”

  I laughed. “So far the only person on that list is Ethan, and I’m not sure there’s any joy in snubbing someone who wouldn’t even notice.”

  “Is he still the most gorgeous guy on Earth?”

  “I don’t understand the question.”

  “Yes you do.”

  “He’s still obnoxious,” I said. “Though I guess he did tell me to break a leg, which is, like, the nicest thing he’s ever said to me.”

  “Does he have a girlfriend?”

  “I’m not sure girlfriends are really his thing.”

  “Only because he hasn’t seen me in years.”

  “Yes. I’m sure that’s why.”

  “Do you think if you get the part, he’ll let you stay with him?”

  “No. I think he’s barely prepared to tolerate me for a few days.”

  “Why is he so awkward around you? You’ve never done shit to him.”

  “I know.”

  “You don’t think he knows about that thing you wrote in your diary after-”

  “No. I don’t. And you’re a bitch for mentioning that and for reading my diary in the first place.”

  “Sorry, but as my best friend, you’re required to tell me everything, and I had a feeling you were holding something back.”

  “But-”

  “And you were.”

  “Yeah, well, I was sixteen, and I had a lot of confusing feelings back then.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not like you thought anything I didn’t think myself-”

  “Moving on swiftly-”

  “Oh right. The point is, you’re the most beautiful, talented, photogenic person I know, and you’re going to absolutely nail your audition.”

  “Better.”

  “And not just because it’s what you’ve always wanted, but because then you can move me out to your mansion in L.A., and I can be your personal spray tanner to make sure you always look red carpet ready.”

  “Of course.”

  “Instead of having to spend my day tanning all these Midwesterner’s cottage cheese thighs.”

  “I suppose you would really owe me then.”

  “Quite happily, too.”

  “Okay, well I better go.”

  “Me, too. I’m training a new girl today, and if her second victim comes out any worse than the first, we’re going to have to change the name of the place to Fifty Shades.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Anyway, let me know how the audi
tion goes and give Ethan a big wet kiss for me.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Fair enough, bitch. Chat soon.”

  I hung up, put my phone on silent so I wouldn’t forget when I got to the audition, and slipped it in my purse.

  Then I took off down the street and channeled my inner Gaga all the way to the studio.

  Chapter 6: Ethan

  I saw Christophe’s hand shoot up at the back of the restaurant as soon as I walked in.

  “Hey,” I said, sliding into the wooden booth across from him.

  “Dude, are you bleeding?” he asked, pointing at my hand.

  I turned my wrist towards me and rubbed the dark red streak. “No, it’s just paint.” Shit.

  “Paint?”

  “Yeah. Is Ben coming?”

  “What the fuck were you painting?”

  “Some asshole dinged my jeep.”

  He squinted at me. “So you thought you’d paint over it with a different color red?”

  “It just dried dark on my hand. Will you let it go? Jesus. Where’s Ben?”

  “Where do you think?”

  I sighed. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He blew us off last week.”

  He shrugged. “I know.”

  “I want to be happy for him that he found someone so great, but he’s making it really fucking difficult.”

  Christophe opened the glossy black menu in front of him and sighed. “Women happen to the best of us.”

  “No shit.”

  He raised his eyes. “What? Naomi prove a handful last night?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What’s the problem? She told me she wanted to lick your balls till they were raw.”

  I cocked my head. “Fuck off.”

  “So she didn’t say it,” he said. “But she had that look in her eye.”

  A young girl with a swinging ponytail appeared at the end of the table. “Spicy Nachos?”

  “Thanks,” Christophe said, scooting his drink over.

  She raised her eyebrows. “You guys ready to order?”

  “I’ll have the bacon burger,” Christophe said.

  I handed my menu to her. “Same. And a Coke.”

  She nodded and left.

  “So what happened?” he asked. “Last I heard you left together-”

  “Things were fine till we got back to mine, but I had an unexpected visitor.”

  He furrowed his brow and reached for a cheesy chip. “At your place?”

  I nodded.

  “Who?”

  “My stepsister.”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  “Stepsister.”

  “Still.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t know you cared.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Is she hot?”

  I shook my head.

  “I’m going to have to take that silence as a yes.”

  “Take it however you want,” I said, sliding a jalapeno covered nacho from the pile between us.

  “Can I meet her?”

  “She’s not your type.”

  “How so?” he asked. “Cause there’s really only two things that would make her not my type.”

  I furrowed my brows.

  He counted on his fingers. “Either she’s bald or she doesn’t swallow.”

  I leaned back in the booth and rubbed my painted hand along the edge of the seat. “Yeah, definitely not your type.”

  “Which is it?”

  “Bald,” I said. “And gay.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are you fucking with me?”

  “Would I joke about having a bald, gay houseguest?” I asked. “Don’t you think if I had a gorgeous girl staying at mine I’d be rubbing it your smug face?”

  “Mmm. Probably.”

  “Plus, you know I like girls with flavor,” I said. “Like Naomi.”

  “True.”

  But it wasn’t. I liked Jen. But going for girls that reminded me of her just made things worse. So I did everything I could to keep my distance from petite brunettes with hazel eyes and melodic laughs. Cause it was hard enough to not think about her as it was.

  “So,” he said. “How long’s she staying with you?”

  The young waitress placed my Coke on the table a second later.

  I turned to offer her some thanks, but she’d already disappeared.

  “Well?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s got some audition to go to. She’s just staying with me while she sees that through.”

  “You guys close?”

  “Not really. I was sixteen when our parents got married, and I got shipped off to boarding school a year later-”

  “So you didn’t know her before your folks hooked up?”

  “I knew of her.”

  He raised his eyebrows and drank from his glass, ignoring the straw in it so it poked him in the cheek.

  “We went to the same high school,” I said. “So I’d seen her around for a while.”

  “Too bad you guys didn’t hit it off.”

  “Why?”

  “Cause then you could’ve dated all her friends and-”

  “We didn’t really run in the same crowds.”

  “So she was a loser?”

  “She wasn’t a loser,” I said too defensively. “She just didn’t care about fitting in.”

  “Cause she couldn’t if she wanted to.”

  “Cause she liked books and acting and didn’t have an athletic bone in her body.”

  “When was the last time you talked to her?”

  “This morning.”

  “Before that.”

  I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling. “When I went home for Christmas her freshman year of college.”

  “Sounds pretty fucking awkward.”

  “It’s not so bad,” I said. “She’s cool. A total cock block, but cool.”

  “Maybe you could find a girl you were both into and-”

  I raised a hand. “I’m going to stop you there before you say something that makes me want to punch you in the face.”

  “Why? It’s not like you’re related.”

  I leaned an elbow on the table. “You know who else I’m not related to?”

  “Who?”

  “Your sister,” I said, craning my neck forward. “How’s she doing?”

  “That’s none of your fucking business.”

  “I thought she kind of took a shine to me last time she came to the club.”

  “I’m sure she didn’t.”

  “In fact, I think she would’ve done a lot more than take a shine if I’d-”

  He raised his hands in the air between us. “Okay. I get your point. I won’t say shit about your sister anymore.”

  “Stepsister.”

  “Whatever. Just don’t even think about Camille,” he said. “Okay?”

  “Deal.”

  “She’s too good to be fodder for your pathetic wank bank.”

  “I assure you that she’s-”

  He pointed at me. “I’ll fucking kill you if you finish that sentence.”

  I wanted to smirk, but I knew it would set him off so I let it go. Of course, I had zero confidence he wouldn’t mention Jen again at some point, but if he could refrain for the rest of the meal, it would be a small grace for which I would be grateful.

  “You know what she’s auditioning for?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I thought we were done.”

  “Hey,” he said, showing me his palms. “I’m only asking because my uncle’s got an agency in Midtown.”

  I swallowed the nacho in my mouth. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “So if she needs some representation-”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I can’t guarantee anything, but I can get her an appointment.”

  “Let’s wait and see how the audition goes today,” I said. “I’m not sure I want to give her loads of reasons to stick around.”
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  Chapter 7: Jenny

  I thought I’d be able to go home right after the audition, but when the director said the callback results would be up in two hours, I decided to stay in the neighborhood.

  The waiting was nerve wracking, though.

  Despite my best efforts, I didn’t have a clue how I’d fared in the audition, and I could tell by some of the looks I got from the other girls that I wasn’t going to be winning any popularity contests.

  Brandi always maintained that I had resting bitch face if I wasn’t careful, but I wasn’t a bitch. I was just shy, especially when I was surrounded by people whose baby toes had more confidence than me. I mean, one girl was name dropping so hard I felt like I should recognize her.