Pretending to Be Us

by Taylor Holloway

  I’d never felt more relieved in my life. For the first time in weeks, I was able to take a full breath. I’d actually be able to sleep tonight. And hopefully not alone, either. The thought of having Lucy back in my bed was enough to make everything I’d gone through worth it. I couldn’t believe we’d been apart for so long already. It felt like a thousand years.

  I grinned, thinking about all the time we had to be together now. “Lucy,” I told her, resisting the temptation to touch her again before I was sure everything was right again, “I fixed it. The movie, everything. It’s all okay now.” I extended a hand to her.

  She looked hopeful for a moment, just long enough for me to believe it. She took my hand. And then something must have occurred to her, because she dropped it. The hope in her face disappeared like someone had unplugged a drain. This damn conversation was worse than the worst roller coaster of my life. She swallowed hard. “No, it isn’t,” she told me. “It doesn’t change anything.”

  I wanted to scream. After all this time, all this effort, she was still fighting me? “Why?” I asked. “Why isn’t it okay?”

  She stared down at the floor. “We can’t be together. Nothing has changed.” Her voice was flat and expressionless.

  I shifted back and forth. Towards her and away. All I wanted to do was sweep her up in my arms and convince her physically of my love, but I didn’t.

  “Why would you say that?” I asked instead. I guess I should have known from the start that falling in love with a princess would be hard. Lucy wasn’t quite what I ever expected, but she was definitely a challenge.

  “Because I’m not the woman you thought you knew. And even if you somehow still wanted me, your family, your world, they’ll never accept me.” Lucy sounded so defeated. The little spark in her eyes was out. “I screwed up too badly. I lied too much. Nobody will ever forgive me.”

  Frustration welled up in me. I could feel my heart trying to find its equilibrium and failing. I felt like everything was falling apart. “Everyone forgives you but you. Me most of all.”

  She stared at the floor. I could tell she was close to believing it. I just had to get her across the finish line. Just. A. Little. Bit. Further. Once she forgave herself, once she found the strength to let herself believe she was worthy of being happy again, we had a shot. But not before then. Until she forgave herself, we’d never move past this.

  “I have an idea,” I told her, taking a deep breath and trying to keep us on track. “Come with me to the premiere tomorrow.” This wasn’t how I’d originally intended any of this to go, but I had to improvise. The premiere was supposed to be a happy surprise. But now it was an unhappy surprise. “Let me show you that I’m right. Let’s watch the first audience see what we made, and let the world decide if you deserve to be forgiven.”

  Her eyes flashed up and then down. “I have to work tomorrow, Peter.”

  “Take the night off,” I said. I knew that after the film premiered, she wouldn’t ever have to work at a place like that again, but she didn’t know that.

  “I can’t.” The look on her face was helpless. I could clearly only spring so much on her at once. She was at her breaking point of revelations.

  And I was at the breaking point with my patience.

  I gritted my teeth and then forced myself to relax. My shoulders ached with tension and all I wanted to do was touch the woman I loved. She was right there, and she looked like she halfway wanted me to touch her. But there was chance that she’d bolt if I did, and I’d be back at square one. I was learning from my mistakes. So, I stuck to words. Somehow the right ones just happened to come to me.

  “Lucy, so help me God, I will buy that diner if you don’t come.” I paused. That wasn’t enough. “I will walk out of this closing if you don’t come.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You can’t back out of the closing. We need--” she froze, horrified. “Please don’t do this. Please don’t put my family into this mess. We were banking on this. We need that money.”

  “I have to,” I said. “If this is the only way, I’m not above blackmailing you into it.”

  I wasn’t really. She’d get paid for her role in the movie either way, which would fix her financial problem and more. Her family was in no danger. But at the moment she wasn’t thinking that far ahead.

  She clasped and unclasped her hands uncertainly. “All I have to do is go to the premiere tomorrow and you’ll close on the house?”

  “Yes. Just come to the premiere with me.” I’d thought we’d be kissing right now. I’d been planning on kissing by now. Depending on it. Still, if this is what it would take, I’d do it. I’d do anything. “After the premiere tomorrow, you never have to talk to me again. But we’re delaying this closing until after the premiere.”

  The fact that I was using the one thing that Lucy cared about the most, her family, as a bargaining chip was shitty. I knew it was shitty. She knew it was shitty. But I was doing it anyway.

  Lucy’s lower lip trembled. I’d never blackmailed anyone in my life before. I didn’t like that I was starting now, even if the truth was more nuanced than she knew. But the experience over the course of filming ‘Admit You Want Me’ had proven a few things to me about the ends occasionally justifying the means. In order to get what I wanted, I was going to have to play dirty.

  “Fine,” she said. “But I hate you for this.”

  I shook my head. “You’re a great actress, Lucy. But you’re a terrible liar.”

  46

  Lucy

  Lucy Bergen [2:02 p.m.]: Daniel I need help.

  Daniel Muller [2:02 p.m.]: You’re alive! Why haven’t you been returning my texts? Dammit, Lucy. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for weeks. Are you okay? Have you been in the hospital or something?

  Lucy Bergen [2:03 p.m.]: I’m sorry, I’ve been busy. I’m fine.

  Daniel Muller [2:03 p.m.]: That’s a shit excuse, Lucy. You aren’t the only person in the universe. Other people have feelings too.

  Lucy Bergen [2:04 p.m.]: I’m sorry. You’re right. I... I really am sorry.

  Daniel Muller [2:05 p.m.]: You can’t just disappear. I was worried about you!

  Lucy Bergen [2:06 p.m.]: I didn’t mean to make you worry.

  Lucy Bergen [2:07 p.m.]: Please don’t be mad at me.

  Lucy Bergen [2:08 p.m.]: I’m sorry.

  Daniel Muller [2:09 p.m.]: Ugh. Sometimes you make me want to pull my hair out. I don’t hear from you for weeks. Weeks! And then you text me that you need help. What if I’d needed help, Lucy? What if I had an issue that I needed you for?

  Lucy Bergen [2:10 p.m.]: Are you okay?

  Daniel Muller [2:11 p.m.]: Dandy.

  I called him. He didn’t answer.

  Lucy Bergen [2:15 p.m.]: Come on Daniel. What do I have to do to make it up to you? I’m sorry. I really am.

  Daniel Muller [2:16 p.m.]: A lot has happened since we last talked, Lucy. I think I just need some time to think about things.

  Lucy Bergen [2:17 p.m.]: Please don’t hate me. I’m sorry I fell off the radar.

  Daniel Muller [2:18 p.m.]: I don’t hate you. I’m just really frustrated. Everyone has been trying to find you. Vanessa. Peter. Isabelle. Everybody.

  Lucy Bergen [2:19 p.m.]: I just needed some distance...

  Daniel Muller [2:20 p.m.]: From me?

  Lucy Bergen [2:21 p.m.]: From my whole life.

  Daniel Muller [2:22 p.m.]: Wow. That’s incredibly selfish. You know other people care about you, right? Freezing them out, freezing me out, wasn’t fair.

  Lucy Bergen [2:23 p.m.]: I’m sorry.

  Daniel Muller [2:23 p.m.]: That’s really not good enough. I’m glad you’re okay, but honestly, I need a minute now.

  Lucy Bergen [2:24 p.m.]: I... I understand but I need help Daniel.

  Daniel Muller [2:25 p.m.]: I can’t be your friend if you only call me when you need help. I’m a person, you know that? I have feelings.

  Lucy Bergen [2:26 p.m.]: I’m sorry!

&nbs
p; Daniel Muller [2:27 p.m.]: Great. That’s a start.

  Lucy Bergen [2:28 p.m.]: Peter found me.

  Daniel Muller [2:29 p.m.]: I can’t have this conversation with you right now Lucy. Did you hear where I said I was angry with you? I’m sorry you’re having a rough time lately. But that doesn’t justify just cutting your friend out of your life until he can be of use to you.

  Lucy Bergen [2:30 p.m.]: I know. I... I really am sorry. If you don’t want to talk, I get it. Just listen. I know I don’t deserve your help right now, but I’ve got nobody else to talk to. Can you just listen?

  Lucy Bergen [2:32 p.m.]: I’m going to take that as a yes.

  Lucy Bergen [2:40 p.m.]: I got evicted. I started working at a diner. I ghosted my whole life because I was just trying to make it through the days. I’m just trying to keep us fed and housed. I haven’t had time for anything else. I know that’s not an excuse, but it’s the best I’ve got. I was trying to just put my head down and try to dig myself out of this hole.

  Lucy Bergen [2:43 p.m.]: But it didn’t even work. Because Peter found me today. He bought our house, Daniel. He bought it for more than it's worth. By a lot. He showed up here to the closing today. This will solve our financial problems. It’ll get us out of debt with the mortgage company. And we’ll be able to move on.

  Lucy Bergen [2:45 p.m.]: Except he said that... oh my God, I can’t believe I’m even typing this out, he said that what I saw with Darcy wasn’t real. He said that he loves me, and he fixed the production and now the premiere is tomorrow, and I have to go with him or he’ll back out of the closing.

  Lucy Bergen [2:46 p.m.]: He said the version starring me is being released. He said I have to go to the premiere with him. I don’t have any choice...

  Lucy Bergen [2:47 p.m.]: Daniel?

  Lucy Bergen [2:48 p.m.]: Daniel what do I do?

  Lucy Bergen [2:49 p.m.]: You’re my only friend left. I need your help. I need you to tell me what to do.

  Daniel Muller [2:50 p.m.]: Too bad.

  Lucy Bergen [2:51 p.m.]: Please!

  Daniel Muller [2:52 p.m.]: What do you think that you should do?

  Lucy Bergen [2:53 p.m.]: I don’t know.

  Daniel Muller [2:54 p.m.]: Yes, you do. Think hard.

  Lucy Bergen [2:55 p.m.]: You think I should go to the premiere? But everybody hates me.

  Daniel Muller [2:56 p.m.]: What is wrong with you? Not everything is about your feelings. The world does not revolve around you. Quit being such a self-centered sad sack. Other people worked on this film. Other people care about it. Some of them even care about you. Against our better judgment.

  Daniel Muller [2:57 p.m.]: Go to the fucking premiere, Lucy. Christ. You’re lucky that Peter is more patient than I am. I’ll see you there tomorrow. If you get your shit together tomorrow and face me, we’ll talk. Otherwise, I think we should just go our own ways.

  I texted him again, but he blocked me.

  Another ultimatum. I knew I deserved it, I’d been really shitty to him, but it still stung. I guess I had no choice. Tomorrow, I’d be going out with Peter.

  47

  Lucy

  The dress arrived by courier the afternoon after the aborted closing, which had been rescheduled for the day after next. It came to our little motel room, wrapped in a white garment bag along with matching accessories, jewelry, and shoes. It looked so out of place amidst the drab hotel furnishings that I just had to unwrap it right away. Thankfully, my mom and Mormor had gone to a church potluck and wouldn’t be home until late, so I was alone to unveil it.

  It took my breath away.

  Imagine a princess dress. No. Don’t. Don’t imagine a dress that a Disney princess would wear in a cartoon. Don’t imagine something with a ton of ruffles and a hoop skirt. Or bows. Or anything that anthropomorphic birds or mice might assemble in an attic out of spare notions. This dress was not made during a montage. It was nothing like that.

  But it was fit for a princess. Crafted out of smooth, beautiful silk charmeuse, the dress was a dove grey color that from some angles looked nearly silver and from others almost looked blue. It was a color that looked phenomenal on blue-eyed blondes like me. It was bias cut, so it hung on me in a way that suggested movement even when it was still.

  It was simply decorated. Not showy or overdone. It wasn’t something that looked like it was made for prom or cotillion. But it also didn’t have that overly spare look that I associated with some super high fashion labels. It was the perfect, balanced, happy medium between too much and too little. If anything, it reminded me of something that Edith Head would put Rosemary Clooney in so she could sing a torch song that would make the whole world gape. And I would wear it tonight.

  It came with a pair of heels. Louboutin's, to be exact. The kind that cost a cool nine hundred dollars when they went on sale at Saks. The red heels flashed in the mirror when I looked over my shoulder. They were four inches tall, so I was a solid six foot two in them. I never wore heels that tall. Not because I didn’t want to, but because it tended to make the men around me uncomfortable. Apparently, Peter had no such insecurities. Besides, he would still be plenty taller than me.

  The jewelry that came with the dress was real. I could tell. I’m sure it was all rented and insured, the whole ensemble would be, but it still made me gasp when I opened up the black velvet boxes and saw what was inside. Two golden South Sea pearl earrings gleamed out of the box, simple but obviously extravagantly expensive studs that needed zero embellishment. Their simplicity would look perfect with the dress. There was also a ring I found that matched the earrings. It was just the right amount of jewelry, not awards show flashy, but perfect to draw everything else together and make it look polished.

  Everything was the right size. It made sense that Peter would learn everything that he needed from my time on set to arrange for things to fit, but that didn’t change the fact that I’d spent the entire filming experience crammed into clothes that were meant for someone smaller and thinner than me. We’d used all kinds of tricks to make them look good on camera. Now, finally, I had clothes that fit.

  I cried when I pulled it all out of the bag and looked at it. In fact, I was still crying when a knock on the door startled me. The person behind it startled me even more.

  “Isabelle?” I gasped.

  She grinned. “Hi! I’m here to help you put the dress on and do your makeup and hair.”

  I paused. “Really?”

  She nodded. “Of course.” She tilted her head to the side. Her brown hair was loose today. It was the first time I’d seen it down, and it really suited her. It was curlier than I expected. She was a lot prettier when she didn’t look so nervous. “You didn’t think you’d do your own, did you?” she asked.

  I nodded and she made a clucking sound.

  “Kate and I worked hard to put together the perfect outfit,” she said. “There’s no way you’re going to botch the execution. Peter didn’t want me to bug you, but I followed the courier.” She strode into my motel room, totally nonplussed by its shabby appearance. “Now, where can we work?”

  Isabelle had changed. She wasn’t nearly as meek and retiring as she used to be. When had she become so blunt?

  “You really came over to help me?” I asked.

  Isabelle looked at me like I was crazy. “Yes. You’re my friend, aren’t you?”

  I blinked away tears. Did she really forgive me and consider me a friend? Had she honestly come here because she wanted to? I could barely believe it, but the evidence was right in front of me.

  She had said that she’d forgiven me. She’d told me that ages ago it seemed like. But this was different. This wasn’t pity. This was proof.

  “This room is the only room,” I stuttered, nodding and realizing that she was staring at me and waiting for an answer. “We’ll have to work here.”

  “That’ll be fine,” she said, wheeling in a little suitcase full of God-knows-what into our tiny room. She stared around herself in mild surprise, but then
she hid it and a businesslike expression took up residence on her pretty features. “So, tell me, when was the last time you washed your hair?”

  I reached up to touch my braid. “I washed it the day before yesterday...” I trailed off. It was hard sharing a single bathroom with my mom and grandmother. I’d been using a lot of dry shampoo recently. “Does it look dirty?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It looks fine! I just need to know so I can put the right amount of product in it for your updo. All the girls on the crew took a vote and we decided this was the look we should do for you.” She pulled out a magazine and opened it to a dogeared page. Blake Lively was staring back at me from the glossy page, wearing an intricate, gathered half-updo. “Do you like it?” Isabelle asked.

  “Yes, I love it,” I stuttered. I felt somewhat lightheaded from all the revelations. “Isabelle,” I said seriously, “I need you to promise me that this isn’t some kind of Carrie thing.”

  “Carrie thing?” Isabelle asked. She looked confused. “Like from ‘Sex in the City’? I promise I won’t make you look that dated. Cross my heart.”

  I took a deep breath. “No. Have you ever seen the movie Carrie?” I asked. “It’s a Stephen King adaptation starring Sissy Spacek from 1976.”

  Isabelle paused, then I saw recognition in her brown eyes. “The one where the girl gets pig blood on her and then torches her prom?”

  I nodded and Isabelle laughed at me. “What are you even talking about?” she asked, pointing to a chair. I sat down obediently, and she started taking my hair out of its braid and brushing it out in front of the mirror. “Are you threatening to go all pyromaniac on our premiere? Because we all put an awful lot of effort into this for you to lose it now.”

  I bit my lip and my reflection in the mirror looked terrified. “No. Okay. This is going to sound nuts, I guess, but in Carrie, the popular girls pretended to like Carrie so she’d be lured into attending the dance so they could humiliate her.”