Just Be Her Read online

  Toni beamed at me. George couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. That got me chuckling too.

  We ordered room service for dinner. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until the grilled salmon was placed in front of me. I hadn’t eaten most of the day, too anxious and nervous to even feel hungry.

  “Enjoy that while you can.” Toni spoke around a giant mouthful of club sandwich. “That’s the last five-star meal you’re going to have for a month. Damn, this is a good sandwich.” She moaned and took another bite. I watched her closely as I ate my meal, amused by how thoroughly she enjoyed hers and how much she let it show.

  We spent the evening tutoring each other about our lives.

  I hadn’t been to Oren’s property before, so there wasn’t much I could tell her. That would work to our advantage—it wouldn’t be strange when she couldn’t find her way to the bathroom or had to ask someone where the pool was. But she told me the layout of the Cottonmouth Inn, the staircase leading to the two studios upstairs, and her apartment.

  She also ran me through what she did at work. I’d never bartended. I hardly went out to bars, let alone knew what was behind one. I had a lot of questions. It sounded like hard work, but I was looking forward to even that!

  She gave me brief background on the people I’d most likely interact with. Andre—tall black man, owner of the bar, her landlord and neighbor in the studio across the hall. Loretta—white woman of questionable age, the cook. Dennis—the college kid who worked a couple of nights at the bar.

  There was also a handful of casual bar staff and bouncers. “The other staff tend to come and go. That’s the nature of the business—high turnaround. Some realize they don’t want to work the late hours. Others can’t hack the pace.” She shrugged.

  We stayed up very late, sharing the minute details of each other’s lives. But whenever we got close to a difficult topic, one of us would back away from it. I needed her to know as much as possible, but she was still essentially a stranger. I wasn’t entirely sure I could trust her.

  Which was insane considering I was about to let her step into my life. On more than one occasion, I questioned my decision, questioned my own sanity. Toni, on the other hand, after the strong push of resistance, was all in. It seemed she was not easy to convince, but once she made a decision, she didn’t look back. I liked that about her. I could be the same at times—very sure and determined once I’d committed to something. Like this marriage . . .

  There were other things we had in common. Little things, like we both despised pineapple on pizza, worked best with music pumping, could touch the tips of our noses with our tongues.

  We tried to get a few hours’ sleep, but neither one of us could, and we gave up. We ended up on the balcony. The hotel was quiet, but the sounds of Bourbon Street nearby carried on the warm summer breeze.

  Toni lit her fifth cigarette of the evening and dropped the lighter on the table between us.

  I cringed. “You’re going to have to stop that. I can’t have people thinking I smoke.”

  She glared at me and took a deliberate, long drag, blowing the smoke in my direction. I held her gaze, refusing to let the smoke get to me. Eventually she rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “Fine. I’ve been meaning to quit anyway.”

  I nodded, satisfied, but she finished the cigarette.

  “What do you think this is? Really?” She gestured between us, her eyes on the dark sky.

  “Honestly? I’m trying not to think too much about it. It’s a little overwhelming.”

  “Yeah. I feel that.”

  “If you’re happy to provide that saliva sample, I’ll have George order some DNA tests. Then at least we can rule some things out.” Or confirm them. But I didn’t want to say that. It was too intimidating to think about.

  “Sure. I guess.” She didn’t sound sure, and I could understand that. The implications of the results could be just as life altering for her as they would be for me.

  Vaguely alluding to family made me remember another question I needed to ask. “Are there any family members I need to be aware of? Anyone that might pop in to see you and immediately realize I’m an imposter?”

  She remained silent for a long moment. “No. I don’t have any family.”

  “Oh . . .”

  “Both my parents died years ago. I came to New Orleans for a fresh start. I don’t have any extended family, and I didn’t keep in touch with any of my high school friends. The people I work with are decent, and we all keep to ourselves. They stay out of my business and vice versa. Trust me, no one will even notice I’m gone.”

  It was an interesting choice of words—that no one would notice she was gone, not that no one would notice she’d been replaced. I had an urge to lean over and give her a hug but had a feeling it wouldn’t be received well.

  “I’m really sorry about your parents,” I said instead. “I lost my father a few years ago too.”

  “That fucking sucks.”

  “Yeah, it does.”

  She sat up. “So your mom is still around then? Should I be worried about her?”

  “No. She wasn’t able to join me for this trip. She calls me every damn day, but you won’t have to deal with that.” We were keeping our own phones and making sure we had them on us—in case the other one needed to clarify something.

  Eventually the sun started to brighten the sky, and we headed inside to get ready.

  I put on her ripped shorts and middle-finger top and threw my hair up in a ponytail, resisting the urge to smooth it back with a brush. Toni took a shower, and I blow-dried her hair and picked out a peach day dress for her to wear.

  “I fucking hate heels,” she whined at the three-inch sandals I held up. I huffed. We were running out of time, so I gave in and handed her a pair of flats.

  “Just remember to keep your back straight and your shoulders back and smile, but not ironically like you always do. Smile pleasantly—like you actually enjoy it,” I said, giving her a last few tips before leaving. “And please, for the love of god, do not curse in front of Oren’s parents, at least. And if you have any issues, George will be there to help.” I turned to George, my eyes wide. Was I making a massive mistake?

  He placed his warm hands on my shoulders. “Alexandria, I’ll take care of Toni. You just take care of you—for once in your life.” He gave me a reproachful look, and I squeezed his wrist, willing myself not to get emotional. He was right. I needed a break. I deserved a break. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something for myself or even purely for the fun of it. That was a pretty pathetic thought but one I couldn’t dwell on, because the door was swinging toward my face.

  George stepped out of the way just as Toni cleared her throat, one hand on the door handle. “Please leave immediately, or I shall have security remove you, you . . . unsavory person,” she said in an exaggerated voice.

  It made me laugh as I stepped through the door, then immediately turned back. “Oh, I almost forgot!” I removed the engagement ring from my finger and slipped it onto hers.

  She held it up in front of her face and whistled, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe I should just run off and pawn this. I’d have enough to live off for the rest of my life.”

  “Don’t you dare!” I wagged a finger at her. “That’s a Winthrop family heirloom.” Oren sent it to me—escorted by its own security guy—when we locked in the deal and announced the engagement, stating no one would believe it was legit unless I had that Victorian-era, six-carat rock on my finger. I’d almost gotten used to its weight on my hand.

  “Relax. Go.” Toni shooed me away.

  With a final warning look, I walked away from my life.

  I followed Toni’s instructions and took public transport back to the Cottonmouth Inn, constantly reminding myself to lean back and trying to remember every detail of what she’d shared about her life. I had to walk for ten minutes for the last leg of my journey and was glad for the flat boots.

  I turned do
wn the alleyway where we first met and headed straight for the heavy door next to the dumpster. As instructed, I used the square key to let myself in, then went up the back staircase and down the corridor. There were only two doors and a narrow window at the end, providing only some hazy light despite the bright sunshine outside. The doors were old-fashioned timber with frosted glass, more like office doors than apartment doors.

  I moved to the one on the right. The glass rattled a little in the frame even though I didn’t slam the door closed.

  Toni wasn’t lying when she said her apartment was smaller than my suite at the hotel. She’d also neglected to mention the overwhelming stench of stale cigarette smoke that permeated every inch—but I guessed smokers didn’t notice these things.

  Directly to my left was the bathroom. On the opposite wall was a kitchen—one row of overhead cabinets with a counter underneath and a fridge wedged into the corner.

  Between that was everything else.

  I walked down the middle of the space, nearly tripping on a pile of clothing and then accidentally kicking an empty beer bottle. It went rolling toward the bed, making an obnoxiously loud sound on the timber floors.

  The couch next to the kitchen was half-buried under clothes and other things I couldn’t make out in the dim light. The bed was in the corner to my left, the only space free of debris.

  When I finally made it to the other side of the room, I pulled the dark curtains back . . . and almost wished I hadn’t. Now I could see the absolute mess I was supposed to live in for the next month.

  I propped my hands on my hips and sighed, then nearly gagged on the smoke smell again.

  She never said I couldn’t clean up a little, and there was no way in hell I was sleeping in that bed until it had fresh sheets.

  I threw the balcony door open. I hadn’t done my own laundry since college, but I stripped the sheets and put in a load, then found a trash bag and started to gather up all the trash—empty beer bottles, pizza boxes, the few items of expired food in the fridge.

  Halfway through the third load of washing, I found a portable speaker and put some music on through my phone. Having a clear task with a concrete goal felt good, and it was nice to do something physical. It provided a distraction for my usually overactive mind.

  I was singing along to the Backstreet Boys when the door flew open, the glass rattling, and startled me half to death. I jumped and dropped the freshly dried pile of sheets at my feet.

  Filling up almost the entire doorway stood tall, dark, and handsome in distressed jeans and a red muscle shirt. His big hands were in fists, his face set into a scowl. He was very tall, his head nearly reaching the top of the doorway. He was very dark, his closely cropped, thick hair black and his eyes shaded by his drawn brows. And he was very . . . damn, Toni did not mention how handsome he was.

  “Toni?” His posture relaxed as soon as he locked eyes with me, the scowl disappearing. “Shit, girl, I thought someone broke in and put shitty nineties music on. Thought I was about to have to throw a junkie out or something.” He walked halfway to me as he spoke, and I could finally see the color of his eyes—dark brown, almost black.

  “Oh, hey, Andre.” I was 90 percent sure that’s who it was, but I was kicking myself for the music. Toni hadn’t exactly told me not to blast nineties boy bands, but I had a feeling it wasn’t her usual choice. “Uh, I don’t know why that came on. So weird!” I lunged for my phone and turned it off, plunging us into silence.

  “Wait.” He was frowning again. “Are you cleaning?”

  “Yes.” I picked the sheets back up and dropped them on the bed. “I thought it was overdue?” It came out sounding like a question.

  “I mean, it was overdue six months ago.” He chuckled. “Whatever. Look, are you all right?”

  “Fine! Why?” I put on my best pleasant smile. He narrowed his eyes, and I turned it down a notch.

  “You bailed last night with no explanation. Add that to the couple you were shouting at in the alleyway the other night, and I’ll ask again. You in some kind of trouble?”

  I busied myself with the sheets. “No. I promise. Everything is completely fine. I just had something personal come up. It was important and . . . uh . . . personal. But it’s all fine now. Thank you for your concern.”

  He was silent for a long time. Just as I was about to abandon the pillowcase, he spoke. “Your shift starts at four. Don’t be late.”

  “You got it! No problem!” I turned just in time to see him stride out the door, his toned, round shoulders hunching to pass through the frame.

  I released a massive breath, then smiled to myself. It was a rocky start, but he didn’t suspect a thing. Even told me to come to work!

  I finished cleaning around midday and took a shower. Too nervous to eat lunch, I started going through some of Toni’s stuff instead. I knew it was intrusive, but I’d already gone through half of it while cleaning anyway, and it could give me more valuable information.

  She didn’t have a lot of personal items—no pictures on the walls or journals—but I did find a stack of books and a corkboard with concert tickets. The books were an eclectic mix—some fiction, a handful of biographies, and several books about birds and other animals. The tickets were all rock concerts.

  I found one small stack of pictures in the bottom drawer of her dresser. A young Toni (it could’ve so easily been a young me) posed with girls her age and with an older couple who were clearly her parents. They looked nothing like her . . .

  I put the pictures back and sat on the bed. The DNA test would take a few weeks. There was no point stressing about it yet.

  I lay back and wondered how Toni was getting on. But the stress of considering all the things that could go wrong in that situation had my heart hammering, so I tried to put that out of my mind too.

  Lying down made me realize I hadn’t slept at all. With a wide yawn—and a conscious effort not to cover my mouth with my hand—I rolled over and took a nap.

  The afternoon sun streaming across my face woke me up a few hours later. It was hot upstairs, and there wasn’t even a fan to move the air around.

  I groaned and rolled over to check the time, then sat bolt upright. I only had half an hour to get to work!

  There were no uniforms I could find, and Toni didn’t seem to have any more presentable clothes, so I put on black pants with ribbed fabric up the sides and a simple gray V-neck T-shirt, hoping it was appropriate. After braiding my hair and applying an obnoxious amount of eyeliner, like she showed me, I was ready to head down ten minutes early.

  I rushed down the stairs and let myself into the empty bar.

  The floor was sticky, and the walls were painted a dark blue above the four-foot-high wooden wainscoting. The long bar looked like a rough section of a tree cut down the middle. It was pretty cool, but the barstools in front of it had peeling faux-leather seats. A handful of rickety tables and chairs scattered along the edges of the space completed the tired look.

  “Hello?” I called out. There was no one behind the bar.

  A woman’s head popped out of the servery. “It ain’t ready yet, sugar.” Her voice sounded like sandpaper. I caught a glimpse of gray regrowth and a skinny, wrinkled face before she disappeared.

  Loretta. Had to be, based on Toni’s description.

  “That’s no problem,” I called back. I had no idea what wasn’t ready. I glanced around again and figured I couldn’t go wrong with cleaning something, but before I could even look for a cloth, the door to the back alley screeched, and Andre barreled into the bar.

  He spotted me and ground to a halt, frowning in confusion. “What in the . . .”

  I propped my hands on my hips, making sure to slouch a little. “Ready to work, boss.”

  “You’re ready to . . .” He looked perplexed. “What the fuck are you doing here? Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Now it was my turn to frown. “You said I start at four. It’s four.”

  “Yeah, but you never actua
lly show up on time.” He finally shook himself out of his stupor and went to the bar, pouring himself a soda.

  I should’ve known. Of course Toni would be chronically late.

  “I’m . . . turning over a new leaf.” I did my best to sound confident without coming off too cheery.

  “Coupled with the state of your apartment, I’m inclined to actually believe you,” he grumbled, his attention on his drink. He chugged it down in one go, but he still wasn’t giving me instructions, and I was suddenly blanking on what Toni said she did at work.

  “So where do you want me to start, boss?”

  He paused, straightened, and looked at me again. “The beer.” He said it as if he were speaking to someone with a mental disability.

  “Right . . .” I felt my eyes go wide. I mean, we were in a bar. Of course beer would be involved—I just didn’t know what he wanted me to do with the beer.

  “Bring the cases up to restock the fridges.” He was still using that slow voice.

  “Right! Of course!” I slapped myself on the forehead and rushed past him, in the direction of where Toni had told me the storage room was. Her instructions were starting to come back to me. “On it, boss!”

  “Stop calling me that! You’re creeping me the fuck out!” he called after me.

  “Sure! You got it . . . dude!” I called back and cringed as I ducked around the corner.

  I hauled case after case of beer and lined them up in the fridges under the bar. Dennis arrived not long after I finished, and I let him take the lead in what else needed to be done. He gave me a few odd looks, but I told him I wasn’t feeling the best, and he seemed to buy it.

  Around five thirty, Loretta declared, “It’s ready!” punctuating the yell with a coughing fit so severe I started to wonder if we should take her to the hospital. No one else seemed worried though, so I didn’t say anything.

  The “it” turned out to be burgers. It was the greasiest, unhealthiest thing I’d eaten in years, but Toni was right—they were damn good. And after the hard work I’d just put in, and the fact that I’d skipped lunch, I needed it. I wolfed it down without a second thought for manners.