My Double Life

CHAPTER 15

  Grant turned and strode down the hallway without saying goodbye. Any other time, I would have gone after him. I would have apologized again—something, but I could barely stand, let alone run after him. The air had gone out of my lungs. I stared at my father without blinking.

  He was taller than I’d imagined, and looked older—in my mind's eye I'd kept seeing him on the cover of the CDs we'd had since I was a child. Each wrinkle around his eyes and the gray hair at his temples surprised me. He was fit, though, and had a confident energy.

  I was torn between wanting to throw my arms around him and wanting to turn and run away. Instead I stood before him silent and trembling.

  He looked me over from head to toe, his thumbs casually looped through his jeans pockets. His voice was calm, but the edge to his voice showed that he wasn't amused. "So who are you, and where is my daughter?’’

  "Kari has been in rehab for the last week.” My words came out more composed than I felt. I was finally meeting my father, and I was wearing a sequined gold miniskirt. "Maren didn't want people to know about Kari's problems, so she hired me to double for her.”

  "Rehab?" he repeated.

  "For compulsive shopping, mostly.”

  He relaxed a little when I said that, like he’d been afraid it was something worse, but accusation still colored his tone. "Maren told me that Kari was doing better, that she was out doing events to pay off her debts."

  "That was me too," I said. “Kari was working on her album.”

  "The album that’s not done.”

  I prickled on her behalf. "She wanted to come up with hit songs on her own, so you would be proud of her.” This wasn’t exactly what Kari had said. She had said she wanted to come up with hit songs to prove to him that she could do it, and maybe I was transferring my own motivations to Kari—but I didn’t think so. She had a whole roomful of ceramic cats because he had given her some as a child. She wanted his approval.

  His gaze went to the door, and his voice came out terse. "Well, I’m real proud right now.” Then he turned and left the room without another word.

  As soon as he had gone, a surge of panic washed over me. I’d met my father and hadn’t said one thing I’d meant to. When would I have the chance to speak to him again? I walked out into the hallway in time to see him leading Maren by the elbow into another waiting room two doors down the hallway.

  I hurried down the hall, but then paused in front of the door. It was open a sliver, but I didn't go inside. What would I say? Should I wait until he came out to try and talk to him?

  I opened the door a bit more, but neither of them noticed me. They stood face-to-face, oblivious to interruptions. Alex Kingsley’s hands were on his hips. Maren's were folded across her chest. Their voices were low, but as fierce as if they’d been yelling.

  Maren said, "I’m taking care of Kari's reputation while she gets help. Do you really want the tabloids parading her problems out for the whole nation to see? Do you want Kari Kingsley jokes told on the late-night programs for the next ten years? What will that do for her career? What will that do to her as a person? You should thank me for this. I did it for you."

  He gave her a daggered look. "When I told you to keep an eye on her, this wasn’t what I wanted, and you know it. I bailed that girl out of her bad decisions for years, and the reason she hasn’t changed yet is that whenever she makes a mess of things, there's always someone else around to clean it up for her. She doesn’t need more people to rescue her, she needs to grow up and take responsibility for herself. If that means she has to cancel a concert and refund some money—so be it."

  I should have spoken, cleared my throat—done something to let them know I stood in the doorway. But I didn’t. I didn’t even open the door further. I couldn’t intrude on such a heated conversation. Besides, watching Alex Kingsley speak hypnotized me into silence.

  Maren stepped toward him, hands upward. "There’s no need to cancel the concert now. Kari’s double can do the job. The fans will be much happier that way.”

  He cocked his head in disbelief. "You’re worried about the fans? Can you imagine what the press would say if they caught wind of a fake performing her concert?”

  Maren shrugged as though it didn’t matter. "If you want, I’ll fire the double, but she’s been performing as Kari for weeks. She’ll keep quiet about this. I'll make sure of it."

  I could see him clench his jaw, but he didn’t yell at her. His voice came out with taut restraint. "You go let the crowd know that Kari can't do the concert and they’re entitled to a refund. If they want to stick around—fine. I’ll sing a few songs for them and might be able to talk Grant into doing a few too. Go do it now. We’ll discuss your lack of judgment later.”

  His words snapped me out of my trance. I didn’t want them to see me in the doorway and realize I’d listened to the whole thing. I turned and hurried back down the hallway to the green room.

  I needed to figure out what to do next. Alex Kingsley would be here for a while. What would be the best way to talk to him, to explain why I'd done all this? A minute later, Maren flung the door open and stormed over to me. Before I knew what was happening, she drew back her hand and slapped me.

  I stared at her openmouthed, stung as much by surprise as by the force of her blow. I hadn’t thought professional women actually slapped people. The old Alexia might have slapped her back, but I had no desire to do it now. I was better than that.

  "That’s for being so . . . incredibly . . . stupid," Maren hissed at me. "Everything would have worked out fine if you’d done your job and stayed away from Grant Delray. But no, you couldn’t be happy with the money—you had to go for other perks. And now you’ve ruined everything.” I hadn't thought her eyes could grow harder, but they did. "You’re finished. Your driver will take you to the airport. Get on the next plane to West Virginia and never tell anyone about any of this. If you do—”

  “You’ll charge me with identity theft,” I finished for her.

  She smiled with satisfaction, and I wondered how she could do that—go from yelling to a smile like nothing existed in between. “You’re getting smarter already.” She turned on her heel and went out the door before I could say anything else.

  I put my hand to my cheek trying to erase the throb of her slap. How long did I have until security escorted me to the car? I looked around for my street clothes and saw them sitting on the counter. I had started toward them when the door opened. I expected it to be Maren again, giving me more departure instructions. Instead Alex Kingsley stepped into the room. Anger laced his expression, but his voice stayed even. “We're canceling the concert and Kari won’t need a double anymore, so you can go on home.” He eyed me over, and a muscle twitched near his jaw. "Besides leading on Grant, what else did you do while you were pretending to be my daughter?”

  I stared back at him without flinching. "I lip-synched songs, signed autographs, and visited a hospital full of sick kids."

  He gave a humorless laugh. “Is that how you justified this to yourself—you visited sick kids, so it was okay to swindle thousands of people? You're lucky I don’t turn the two of you in to the police and let everyone know what you’ve done. I swear I would, except I think Maren really meant to help, and you look too much like my daughter for me to haul you off to jail.” His gaze ran over me again. "It's downright eerie. But I will tell you one thing—that money you brought in—it’s going to charity. Neither you nor Kari is keeping a dime of it.” He threw me one last disdainful gaze. "And I’ll give you a piece of advice, young lady. Next time you take a job, make sure you bring your ethics along."

  In all my fantasies about meeting my father, not once did I ever think he’d be chewing me out. Everything I'd planned to say to him, my thoughts of being either forgiving or aloof evaporated from my mind. I was angry, and I wanted to hurt him. "Maybe I inherited my sense of ethics from my father.”

  "Your father? Who’s that?”

  "You'd do better to ask who my mother is
.”

  He tilted his chin down, humoring me. "Fine. Who's your mother?"

  I said the words slowly, waiting to see every inch of his reaction. "Sabrina Garcia.”

  No recognition passed through his eyes. None. I hated him at that moment.

  He shrugged, annoyance creeping into his voice. "Should I know who that is?”

  "Yes, you should.” I put one hand on my hip. "Ask me who my father is again.”

  His gaze drifted up to the wall clock. "Listen, I’ve said what I came to say to you—"

  "But I haven't," I cut him off. "You’re my father. You. Alex Kingsley.”

  Instead of registering any shock, he raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "Miss, you’ve got a bad case of believing your own press. You’re not Kari, and I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

  I dropped my hand from my hip. "You're right, you’ve never seen me. That’s my whole point. You were never there for me.” I took several steps toward him before I pulled the necklace from around my neck. I held it up to him, letting it dangle between my fingers. "You met my mother in Charleston nineteen years ago.” His gaze locked onto the pendant, and I could tell he recognized it. His eyes swept back over to mine, and the color drained from his face.

  I took one last step toward him, holding the chain out. "This was never meant for me, so you can have it back.” I dropped the necklace into his hand without taking my eyes from his. "My mother raised me by herself. She tried to reach you, tried to tell you that you had another daughter. She couldn't even get through. You were a big star, and she was nothing to you. But I did fine without you." I felt the tears rimming my eyes, stinging, and I attempted unsuccessfully to keep them from coming. "I'm a straight-A student," I said to prove my point. "I’m in the National Honor Society at my school. That’s how Maren found me. She saw my NHS picture and thought the school was posting pictures of Kari. When she asked if I would double for Kari, I said I’d do it on one condition—that I got to meet you. I wanted to know what you were like. I wanted to meet my father."

  He stared at me, stunned, and didn’t say a thing. The tears spilled onto my cheeks, but I didn't wipe them away. "And I don’t care what you do with the money. I didn’t do this for the money. I wanted to help Kari, and okay, maybe I wanted to know what it felt like to be famous too, to be your daughter for real, but I don’t need Kari’s money, I don't need your money—" My voice faltered, emotion strangling my words until I could barely speak. "And I don’t need you, either, so I don't care that you don't love me. I’m fine without you."

  He moved then, almost as though the shock had passed and he could react again. He reached out and pulled me into a hug. His arms shook, or perhaps that was just me, still shuddering with emotion. "I don’t need you,” I choked out. "I don’t need you.” I said it over and over again, each time becoming less comprehensible until I was sobbing into his shirt.

  He held me tight, and when I finished telling him I didn't need him, he spoke softly into my hair. “No one ever told me. I'm so sorry. I would have been there for you if I had known.”

  I laid my cheek against his shirt, letting the emotion bleed dry. I could feel each breath he took. He was my father, and he had his arms around me. He cared about me. It was a safe feeling. It was all I had ever wanted.

  And then I imagined him holding my mother like this. She had thought he cared about her too.

  I pushed away from him, my resentment flaring back. "You never called my mother,” I said. "She gave you her phone number. She was in love with you, and you never even called her. She had to give up her dreams of going to college. It changed her whole life.”

  He kept his eyes on me like he was memorizing my features and slowly shook his head. "I put her number in my jeans pocket and then forgot about it and sent it through the wash. All I remembered was that her name was Sabrina and she lived in West Virginia." He lifted a hand and then let it fall. "I didn’t think it would matter that much to her.”

  "That’s just great,” I said. “I went through my entire childhood without a father because you're lousy at laundry and didn’t think any of it mattered.”

  "I'm sorry," he said again. "I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  I wiped my face to clear the tears off my cheeks. "It mattered,” I said, and suddenly felt drained. I’d wanted to hear exactly what he'd said—that he was sorry and that he would have been there for me. I thought hearing those words would fill the empty places inside me, but I wasn’t even sure I believed him.

  I said, "Maren told the driver to take me to the airport. I’ve got to change my clothes now.”

  "Don't go yet,” he said. "I just met you.”

  I shook my head and picked up my street clothes from the counter. "I still have some stuff at Maren’s. If I don't see her before I leave, can you ask her to send the schoolbooks back? I don’t care about the rest of it."

  "You don’t have to leave.”

  "I’ve had enough of Hollywood. If you want to talk to me sometime, my mother is listed in the phone book. Sabrina Garcia, Morgantown, West Virginia.”

  "I want to talk to you now."

  I turned and walked away from him, heading to the back of the room where the private bathroom was. As I reached for the doorknob, he said, "You haven’t even told me your name.”

  I turned back to glance at him. "Alexia.” I watched the word hit its mark. He understood the significance. Then I went into the bathroom and locked the door.

  I glanced in the mirror. I expected to look like a mess, with mascara stains running down my face. It had stayed put pretty well, though. I guess using high-priced waterproof makeup did have its advantages.

  I undid my zipper and slid out of my skirt. I thought he’d left, but then I heard his voice close to the door. "Look, I know you have a right to be angry, but this isn’t completely my fault. I didn't know about you. I had no idea.”

  I pulled off the leotard with more viciousness than I should have. I didn't want to be Kari anymore. If I could have yanked away the blond hair color and the extensions, I would have done that too. "When my mom got hold of your manager, he called her a gold digger and told her to leave you alone. She didn't press it after that because she didn’t want me to get hurt if you rejected me like you’d rejected her.”

  He swore loud enough that I heard it through the door. "I wouldn’t have rejected you,” he said, "and I didn’t mean to reject her, either.”

  I should have been happy to hear this, but I thought about all the times I’d wanted a dad so badly; all the hurt I’d had to struggle through. My pain had been for nothing. None of it needed to happen.

  There was silence while I pulled on my shirt and jeans, and then his voice came again, this time sounding softer. "Do you sing?”

  I bent down to put on my shoes. "Not as well as you or Kari.”

  "Are you going to college?”

  "WVU offered me a scholarship.”

  "What are you majoring in?”

  I tied my first shoe slowly. “I don’t know. Maybe biology, maybe physics."

  "Physics?” He let out a low whistle. "You must get that from your mother.”

  I didn't answer. To tell the truth, I didn't know if she had liked physics or not.

  "How is your mother?” he asked.

  I tied my last shoe. "Good. Busy. She's working and finishing her business degree. She's had to support my grandmother and me, but she's always been there for us. She worries about me a lot.”

  "Good,” he said, but I wasn't sure what he approved of.

  I smoothed down my hair, trying to shake as much glitter out of it as I could, then I stepped out of the bathroom.

  He was waiting by the door, his hands in his pockets. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the dressing room door swung open and Maren stepped in. Her gaze ricocheted between my father and me, then settled on me. "The driver is ready for you.”

  I folded my arms and didn’t move just to show her I wasn't taking orders from her anymore
.

  "Maren,” my father said. "I'm glad you're here. I want to ask you a favor."

  "Anything.” Her voice grew smooth and soft again. "Really, I’m so sorry about this—I was trying to help Kari—"

  "I know,” he said. "And that's why I know you’ll be able to handle things with Alexia.”

  “I've already taken care of it." She slid a challenging glance in my direction. "Alexia knows her place.”

  He stepped over to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

  "No, I don't think she does, but I want to make it clear to her.” To Maren he said, "You didn’t know this before, but Alexia is my daughter.”

  The smile froze on Maren’s face. She didn’t look at me, just blinked at my father. "What?”

  "She’s Kari’s half sister. I just found out myself.”

  Maren still stared at my father. Her voice came out high- pitched. "What?"

  My father smiled, appraising me again. "It’s incredible, isn’t it? Can you believe how much she looks like Kari?” Maren stepped toward him but her gaze sliced over to me. "She can’t possibly be your daughter. It's a fluke that she looks like Kari—” She let out a sound that was half scoff, half snort. “Whatever she’s told you, it isn’t true. I found her in West Virginia, for heaven's sake.”

  My father nodded. "West Virginia, I know. That's where I found her mother too.” He opened his hand and turned the sapphire pendant over in his palm. His eyes went to mine, and his voice dropped. "You tell your mom I’m sorry. Tell her—well, I'll give her a call myself." He slipped the necklace into his pocket and faced Maren again. "I imagine Kari will have to let most of her staff go until she can get her finances back in order, but I'd like to hire you to do some things. First, I want you to make sure Alexia has a first-class ticket to get back to West Virginia; a private plane would be better. I don’t want her bothered while she's traveling. And pack up and send Alexia’s belongings back to her house. Can you manage that?”

  Maren took a couple of breaths, then gulped. Her voice, usually so silky, cracked. "Of course. I’ll take care of it right away.”

  “Great,” he said, "because I’ve got some people to sing to.” He gave my shoulder a pat and then in lower voice said, "I will call you."

  He turned to go, but before he could leave, I said, "Can I ask you for one thing?"

  "Sure. Anything."

  "Can you explain this to Grant?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you rather do that yourself?"

  I shook my head. Grant had already made himself clear about what he wanted in a girlfriend, and I didn’t fit the bill.

  "Okay," he said, but his eyebrow stayed raised like he didn’t believe me.

  "One more thing.” I grabbed my purse from the counter, pulled out a pen, then walked over to my father. I took hold of his hand and turned it over in my own until I could see his forearm. Then I wrote my home phone number in one- inch lettering up the length of his arm. "That’s so you don’t lose it."

  He took my hand and squeezed it. "I won't.”

  I gave him a smile, then walked to where Maren stood in the doorway. "I’m ready to go now."