Someone Else's Fairytale (3 page)

“No, I'm sorry.” We rounded the trailer. “I didn't mean to give the wrong impression. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh.” We reached the open parking lot.

He paused and turned me around to face him. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just... guess I got up too early this morning. My head's not clear.” I looked down at the asphalt.

“You can look at me, you know?”

I lifted my gaze to that face I'd seen on countless movie posters and tugged my arm out of his grasp. “Sorry.”

He dropped his hand and smiled. “No, don't apologize. I just... I don't know what kind of instructions people gave you. Sometimes they tell the extras not to look at the actors and with me, it's fine. You can... Okay... no one told you that, did they?”

I shook my head.

“I must sound like the most arrogant person ever.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and I noticed it stayed perfectly styled. Weird.

“Well, if everyone behaves the way they did in line-”

“Right, yeah. It's to prevent stuff like that, but... anyway. Listen, I didn't get a chance to really talk to you. Since I know your family-”

“No, you don't.”

“Well, some of them at least. I've spent some time over at Dr. Winters's house, hanging out with Chris.”

“Were you friends with the Winters?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“So, yeah. I should go-”

“Whoa, wait a minute.” He put his hand on my wrist again. His skin really was dry, even the palm was a little scratchy. If he was Chris's classmate, he was twenty-eight or so, but his skin was older. “Who are you, then?” he asked. “A cousin?”

“Something like that.” I pulled out of his grasp once more. I'm not a touchy-feely person, especially not with men I've only just met.

“
Something
like that? You can't be any more distantly related. Come on.” His gaze scanned my face. I'd always assumed that his blue eyes were airbrushed, but no, they really were that shade of dreamboat blue lined with thick, dark lashes. Just then, they looked puzzled. “Am I asking something... wrong?”

“No... it's just...”

“Just... what?”

“You don't really want to know who I am.”

“I am totally and completely confused right now. Please. Enlighten me.”

I pushed a stray strand of hair back from my face. I didn't see a graceful way out of this conversation, other than to say I didn't want to talk about it and leave, and I wasn't entirely sure he would leave me alone if I did. He was genuinely curious. Which, I figured, was his prerogative. If he really wanted to know, I'd tell him. The sun was up now, and it was getting hot. I didn't want to stand around all morning.

“I'm Chris's half sister.”

“His... he's got a half sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, how old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

I watched while he did the math. “So, your mother...”

“Had me out of wedlock with Dr. Winters, who was married with kids at the time. More than you want to know about their family, I'm sure.”

His eyes widened with surprise and he shifted his weight. “The Winters still married?”

“As far as I know. I don't keep track of them. Just living my own life, here. Anyway.” I made as if to leave.

“Okay. I'm really sorry." He put his hand on my arm, only to let go when I flinched. “I shouldn't have pried.”

“You just didn't think you'd turn up something like that? It's okay. I'm not ashamed of it. It's just that most of the Winters's friends don't want to know about me and their other issues.”

“I'm not a friend of theirs anymore. I haven't talked to them in over ten years.”

I shrugged. “I should go.”

“Can I get your phone number?”

At that I just smiled and held out my hand. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” We shook.

“Hope the rest of the filming goes well.” This time I really did leave, and he let me. When I glanced back over my shoulder, he still stood there, watching after me.

The following morning, I woke up to the sound of the doorbell. I glanced at the clock. It was
seven a.m.
, and I was nowhere near ready to wake up. The early morning yesterday coupled with a late night at work had taken its toll.

The doorbell chimed again.

I pawed my sheets away from my face and dragged myself out of bed. The thin carpet was rough under my bare feet as I stumbled out my door and down the hall to the front room. “Lor?” I croaked.

“Who is that?” was the irritated reply from her room.

“No idea.” I reached the front door, put my hand on the cool metal knob, and waited. Maybe the person had gone away.

“It better not be the Mormons,” said Lori. “Or the Jehovah's Witnesses. It's seven freaking o'clock.” She emerged from her room, looking rumpled and disheveled. Her hair was still up in a messy bun.

Whoever it was outside, knocked.

I sighed and opened the door. Harsh sunlight streamed in, and I blinked while my eyes adjusted.

“Honey?” said a voice from the blinding brilliance.

It was my mother, holding a newspaper. She wore a skin tight mini skirt and a tank top under a denim jacket. Her leopard print bra stuck out from under her shirt and her hair was done up in a French twist. She smelled like lavender body wash. “Hi,” I said to her.

“Let me in, honey.”

I stepped back from the door and she bustled past, her high heels clicking against the concrete, then going silent on the carpet inside. “Oh, hello,” she said to Lori. “I'm Karen.”

“This is my mother,” I explained to Lori. “Mom, Lori. My housemate.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Mom. She plonked herself down on the couch and dragged the coffee table up to her knees. “So have you seen this yet?” She spread out the paper.

I rubbed my eyes and went to look, only Lori beat me to it. She snatched it up. “Ohmigosh, Chlo. When did this happen?”

“When did what happen?”

She turned it around with a rustle of paper crumpling. It was a large picture of Jason Vanderholt talking to me in the parking lot. I'd turned my head, so they'd gotten a clear shot of my face. “Vanderholt and a female companion,” read the caption.

“Oh,” I said, “that.”

“When did this happen?” repeated Lori.

“I'm sorry I didn't get his autograph for you. I forgot.” The kitchen tiles were cool under my bare feet as I retreated to the sink.

“Chloe?” said Mom.

I filled the coffeemaker with water and grinds. “It was yesterday, after we did our extras thing,” I said to Lori.

“When that guy came and got you?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, explain,” said Mom.

“We were extras on the set of his movie yesterday, Mom. I ran into him. We said, like, twenty words to each other. It's nothing.”

Lori shook her head. “But-”

I shot her a silencing look. I did not want to have to explain to anyone, least of all my mother, what yesterday's conversation had been about.

“So are you going to see him again?” Mom asked.

“What?” I said. “No. Gimme a break. Lots of people met him yesterday. All of the extras did. I don't know why they used that picture.”

Mom sat back, deflated. “Oh.”

I rolled my eyes as the coffeemaker hissed and spewed steam.

“Well, this is a nice place.” She looked over our sitting room. “How long have you lived here?”

“Since I gave you the address. Last year.”

“I didn't know you lived in town, Ms. Winters,” said Lori.

I winced, but Mom only giggled. “Just call me Karen. I'm not a Winters.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, dumb of me to assume,” said Lori.

“It's fine. You known Chloe long?”

“Since freshman year,” I said.

Lori, sensing that I was about to lose my temper, put the newspaper down and said something about needing to use the bathroom. She beat a hasty retreat.

Which told me I needed to calm down. I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger and took a couple of deep breaths.

“What is it, honey?” said Mom.

“Nothing. Just that... I've lived here almost a year. I've been going to
UNM
with Lori and all my other friends you've never met for three years, and the first time you come visit me is when I get my picture in the paper with some random famous guy?”

“Well, I just wanted to know what the story was,” she said.

“I know, but there are much more interesting things going on in my life.”

“Really? Have you got a boyfriend?”

“No, but I have a 4.0 with a double major. That mean anything to you?”

“Well of course you do. Well done.”

“No,” I said. “Not of course. I work hard on that-”

“I didn't mean to imply that you don't.” She picked up the newspaper and folded it carefully. “But you were always very smart. You've got those Winters genes.”

“Of course, it's
genetic.”

She frowned at me, as if I'd been the one to say something offensive. “Well, fine. I can see I'm not wanted-”

“No, come on. You want some coffee or something?”

“I've got to get to work.” She got to her feet.

“You want-”

“I don't want anything,” she snapped. “You have a nice day.”

“Come on, Mom.”

But she'd already crossed over to the door and was letting herself out. “Bye now."

I watched her leave, then grabbed a mug down from the shelf. I desperately needed coffee just then.

My shift at Flying Star started at ten, and I spent an hour pouring coffee and ringing up orders before someone came in and slid a copy of the newspaper, with my picture exposed, across the counter next to the register.

I groaned and looked up. It was Matthew, a questioning smile on his lips.

“We had an affair. Really short one,” I said. “It was torrid.”

“What?”

“I'm joking.”

“When did this happen?”

“Put that away, all right? I don't want anyone to see it.”

He folded the paper and tucked it under his arm.

“You want coffee? Cupcake?”

He shrugged and started to dig in his pocket.

“No, I've got this,” I said. “What do you want?”

“Just coffee, black.”