Your Perfect Life (17 page)

“Are you even listening to me?” Casey snaps.

“Yes, I am. Sorry, but I can’t really talk about this
here
,” I say as the roving cameraman positions his camera in front of me. I stay sitting tall even though I want to jolt backward, still not feeling completely comfortable with a camera so close to my crow’s-feet.

“Oh, is that so? You certainly didn’t have any problem gallivanting around town with Charlie and suddenly you want to be discreet? Everyone knows you were out canoodling with him, even if they’re pretending they don’t. They’ve all seen the picture. This is my professional reputation at stake here. Don’t you realize that? Are you trying to ruin my career?”

I shuffle the blue cards in my hand, reading over the questions Destiny typed up from the notes I carefully wrote out after my conversation with Daisy last night. I look around the New York studio rented just for this interview. I did this. I made Ryan McKnight cry. I got Daisy to agree to an interview. I’m the reason Casey Lee is on the cover of
People
magazine.

“Last time I checked, I revived it,” I say, raising my voice, causing the stage manager and the supermodel PA to spin around and look my way. Fiona’s eyes widen and her signature scowl crosses her face, and Destiny, who was walking toward me with a stack of research I’d asked for, stops dead in her tracks and gives me a look as if to ask,
are you okay?
I nod my head yes, even though I’m not. Not by a long shot.

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line and for a moment I wonder if Casey has hung up. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. I was that mad.

Casey finally speaks, this time her voice more controlled but still icy. “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, Rachel, but you’re married. You have children. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this whole Hollywood thing has really gone to your head and you are on your way to following in your new BFF’s, Ryan McKnight’s, footsteps. And P.S., you’re not the one Charlie’s falling for here. Don’t forget he thinks you’re me.”

CHAPTER 21

casey

I hang up on Rachel and throw the phone onto the bed. “Damn it!”

Charlotte looks up from her blocks in surprise at my angry tone. “Your mommy is really effing things up.” I pick her up and squeeze her, trying to get the images of Rachel and Charlie doing their best
Skating with the Stars
impression out of my head.

Charlie. I got an instant migraine when I pulled up PerezHilton.com this morning, shocked to discover my own face staring back at me. In another circumstance, I might have been thrilled to grace the gossip giant’s Web page, as long as it didn’t involve a sex tape. But this was different. Rachel was cavorting with a man I had cared about. Probably the only man I’d ever cared about. I’d never told anyone what had happened between us, and even now, thinking about it made my heart hurt. And here comes Rachel, having no clue the Pandora’s box that she’s opening, showing me (and the rest of the
country!) the play-by-play of what Charlie and I could have had, even after I asked her to stay away from him. It doesn’t escape me that not only is she eclipsing my career in just a few short weeks, she’s also trumping me in the love department as well.

And that’s pretty ironic, considering her love life seemed DOA when I got here. John barely even looked at me the first week, and I had to practically force any details about his day out of him at the dinner table, making me wonder how long they had been eating in silence. And she wasn’t kidding when she said he wouldn’t try to have sex with me. It almost felt as if Rachel and John had been living separate lives in the same house, something that both surprised and saddened me. I’d always put their relationship on a pedestal, so finding out it was far from perfect, that it was downright lousy, was beyond disappointing. Why hadn’t she confided in me? Had I really become so caught up in my own life that I didn’t even know my best friend anymore? I glance again at the picture of her beaming and leaning against Charlie’s chest and wonder how long she’s been unhappy in her real life.

“Mom?” Audrey interrupts my thoughts. “Does this look okay?” She does a small, insecure twirl, her dress spinning like a top around her long legs.

“You look beautiful.” Since her first date with Chris, I’ve suddenly become her fashion guru and we’re becoming closer than ever. At the end of their date she’d bounded in the front door, on time and sober (I’d done one too many segments on binge-drinking celebrity teens), and bursting with excitement that he’d asked her to the formal dance. Her happiness was contagious, and soon John and I found ourselves jumping up
and down, holding hands and celebrating with her. I did my very best to brush away the inner voice inside my head that made me wonder if Chris was all that he appeared.

“Oh my
God,
is that Aunt Casey?” She points to the computer screen.

“Yes,” I say flatly.

“What is she doing?”

“Something she shouldn’t be,” I answer and close the laptop. “She’s acting like an idiot!”

“Why do you say that? She looks like she’s having fun with that guy. She looks . . . happy, happier than I’ve ever seen her look.”

I pop the laptop back open and peer at the picture again. Is that what I look like when I’m with Charlie? Not Rachel as me, but the real me? I sigh and think back to how my heart would skip a beat when he walked into the studio. That he was the only person there who seemed to get me. How much it hurt when he wouldn’t even make eye contact for months after I melted down and told him never to call me again. And how I wish I could tell him that I still question if I made the right decision that day. “Yes, she does look happy. But she works with him. You can’t just go around ice skating with your producer.”

“Why not?” Audrey asked. “If you find love, why should it matter where you find it?” She scrolls down the page and clicks on the other photos. “Don’t you want Aunt Casey to be happy?”

“More than anything,” I say quietly. “But life isn’t always that simple.”

• • •

Three hours later, I hang up the phone and mark yet another hotel off my list. I’ve called half the hotels in the city trying to locate Brian, our body-switching bartender, to no avail. Even if there was a Brian on staff, no one fits his description. But I’ve refused to give up, calling at least ten hotels a day, hoping once I track him down, he’ll finally tell us how to get our lives back. I know both he and that psychic told us there’s a lesson to be learned here and that it has to do with a “promotion,” but so far the only thing I’ve learned is how to steam carrots and why Spanx are critical after having three kids. And with each day I’m here, I start to wonder even if we do make it back to our own lives, will I still fit into mine?

As I walk down the hall to Charlotte’s room and pull the blanket over her as she sleeps soundly, I want to figure out what the word
promotion
means in all of this, but I’m also scared of what it could mean. If it’s the key to switching back, leaving here might not be as easy as I want it to be. As much as I’ve always loved these girls, I’d always thought of motherhood as a burden, something I vowed to never be a part of. Something I thought I didn’t deserve. Now, as I stroke Charlotte’s sweet face, I’m not so sure anymore.

“Hey,” I hear John whisper from the doorway.

I put a finger to my lips and tiptoe into the hall. “Hey.” I glance at my watch and shut Charlotte’s door behind me. “You’re home early.”

“I am,” he says, a sly smile on his face as he tries to hide a box behind his back

“Um, what’s going on?” I reach behind him and grab the box. “What’s this?”

“That,” he says pointing to it, “is what you’re wearing tonight. Audrey’s going to watch the kids. Get dressed, I’m taking you out!”

“Are you serious?” I squeal. I hadn’t been out, well, since I
was Casey. The thought of a Belvedere and soda makes my mouth water.

“You deserve a night out. Now go put this on,” he says, pushing me toward the bedroom.

I shut the door behind me, hoping he doesn’t follow. I have no idea what I’d do if he picked this moment to want to watch me undress. Even though it’s not my own body, it would just be awkward. I glance nervously at the door as I shake the box, equally scared to discover what might be inside. John always dressed well, but he wasn’t exactly someone I would want choosing my outfit, especially when I hadn’t had a proper night out in weeks. I pull away the paper apprehensively and find an exquisite black silk dress and oversized hoop earrings. It’s simple and sexy all at the same time.
Well done, John!
I set the box down on the bed and stare at Rachel’s reflection in the mirror, touched by John’s sweet gesture. He’d always been thoughtful; it was one of the things I’d always loved about him. Getting up early and running out to get coffee when we all woke up hung-over in college, and after Rachel found out she was pregnant with Audrey, making late-night trips to satisfy her every craving, never complaining when he gained ten pounds himself from indulging in all the late night snacks she demanded. That was the John I knew and loved.

I take my time getting ready, cherishing this rare time alone. I used to take time for granted, and now I realize Rachel doesn’t get much of it to herself. As I slip on the black dress, I also can’t help but wonder how Rachel will feel about her husband taking me on a date. And was John expecting some kind of gift in return? He may have given me my space while I was getting
dressed (thankfully!), but would he later tonight when I was undressing?

I wondered if Rachel and Charlie were sharing a suite in New York. I’ve never taken her for the cheating type, but these weren’t exactly normal circumstances. Was it still cheating if she did it as me? And would the betrayal sting as much?

I smooth my dress one more time before heading downstairs where John is giving Audrey strict instructions for tonight. “Mom!” Audrey’s eyes widen. “You look amazing!”

“Thank you,” I say, hugging her tightly. “Your dad bought it for me.”

She fingers the soft fabric then high-fives her dad. “Nice job.”

John blushes and I’m struck by how cute he looks.

“I do manage to get a few things right here and there,” he says as he grabs my hand. My heart skips a beat, involuntarily. “Are you ready for some fun?” he asks.

I think of Charlie and Rachel, imagining them drinking champagne somewhere in New York. “You have no idea!”

CHAPTER 22

rachel

As I pull the down comforter around me, I’m surprised by how good it feels to be back in Casey’s bed. To not wish even for a second that I was in my own with John. Charlie and I returned from New York earlier this afternoon, and although we shared a car service from the airport and he’d not so subtly hinted at wanting to come over (his hand planted firmly on my upper thigh the entire ride home), I’d feigned exhaustion and promised to call him later.

As the driver pulled my bags out of the trunk and Charlie stood awkwardly on the curb, I’d wanted more than anything to invite him in, but that damn little voice inside my head warned me that it would be a very bad idea. That annoying little voice that has been constantly reminding me that I’m not the real Casey Lee. That I’m not, as the real Casey had so harshly pointed out, the one Charlie’s falling for. But what if the voice is wrong? If Casey’s wrong? What if I am the one he’s falling for?
Sure, it’s not my body, but it’s my personality, my mind, and my humor. Isn’t it?

We’d had an amazing time in New York—professionally and personally. The interview with Daisy McKnight was even better than the one with her husband. Even though there were five cameras and a dozen staff and crew surrounding us, it felt like we were just two girlfriends talking. I abandoned my blue cards midway through and she’d opened up about everything—even things she’d said originally would have to be off the record, like her suspicion there were several other women. And in the last few minutes of the interview, I took a risk. I asked her to call Ryan on camera. And if he answered, to tell him how she felt. And she’d agreed without hesitation, pulling out her bedazzled iPhone. I held my breath as the phone rang and looked at the staff and crew, all leaning in, looking like vultures circling a carcass as they waited to get the shot, the sound bite, whatever was needed to make this interview a hit. Of course we’d needed to handle some technical housekeeping before we could roll tape on the call. An audio guy had to hook Daisy’s cell to a microphone so we could hear Ryan’s end of the conversation. And Ryan had to give a verbal release for his interview to be used on camera after he’d answered. To our surprise, he did. But even after all that, the conversation between them was emotional and heartbreaking and raw.

I’d scanned the room for Charlie, as Ryan and Daisy cried together and Ryan apologized. When I’d found him, our eyes locked and I knew he was thinking what I was thinking. This was it. The career-changing moment that would open more doors than I ever thought possible. But I could also tell that he was looking not at the Casey Lee everyone else saw, the
one whose face was plastered with foundation and eyes were heavy with multiple layers of false eyelashes, but the Casey who couldn’t wait to wash her face, throw on a pair of sweats, and knock back a couple of cocktails and scream to the rooftops,
I’ve arrived! I may be pushing forty, but dammit, I’ve arrived!
But then there was that little detail about not really being Casey Lee, and unless I wanted to stay in Casey’s body permanently (was that even an option?) this was not
my
career-changing moment, this was not
my
unspoken moment with a cute and sweet man across the room, this was not
my
life.

When the interview was over, Daisy whispered to me off camera that she and Ryan would give me the exclusive on their first sit-down interview together. I was intoxicated with pride after everyone—even Dean through his gritted veneers—complimented me. Well, if
you didn’t suck
counts as praise.

But the best accolades came from Charlie. He’d pulled me aside and told me that I’d never been better and should be very proud. Then he’d kissed me on the cheek and I felt my knees start to buckle under me, wondering if a kiss on the cheek could do that, what could a kiss on the lips do? Then he whisked me off to dinner and drinks and before I knew it, it was time to fly home. He stood in the hall outside my hotel room and I knew he wanted to come inside. But I’d made an excuse then just like I had today. I’d told him I still had to pack before the flight. He’d simply taken his finger and ran it down the length of my arm and said, “Rain check, then.” When I got inside my room and stared at the suitcase I knew Destiny had already packed for me, I hated that I’d told a lie. But he’d never understand the truth: that I was married; that I had three daughters; that I was living someone else’s life.