Star Power (4 page)

Liam shook it again. “Yep. But there's a keypad here. Look in the folder and see if you have the code.”

“It's 6446246,” a girl's voice said from behind, making both Charly and Liam jump.

Charly turned and faced her mission. Ms. Nia, in the flesh, sporting an awful camel-colored hair bonnet. A head covering that resembled the blondish hair color Charly saw in the window. So Nia had been watching.

N
ia's face was a battleground. A jagged scar was on one cheek, and the other was an area marked in defeat. Her brows were worse in person than in the photos. Bushy and low, they looked as if they were grown to shield the suffering behind them. If she had any inner beauty, one would have to have X-ray vision to see it. Her look was that bleak. Charly smiled, trying not to stare at the zigzag on Nia's skin, and took note that it had healed nicely. It wasn't appealing, but it wasn't a keloid, which meant that makeup could cover the line of demarcation. “Oh, you must be Nia,” Charly said, then could've kicked herself. She was sure she wasn't supposed to know who Nia was. The whole makeover was supposed to seem to happen by mistake. She'd been told that was the only way the girl would go for it. But even the studio had to allow for the cast to know about the people in the house they were going to make over, she assured herself. So it was no big deal.

“Or are you Mya?” Liam asked, lying and saving Charly. “Your father just told us he had two daughters. Twins, right?”

Nia nodded, offering what Charly assumed was her version of a closed-mouth smile. The corners of her lips didn't rise, but she'd pressed them together. At least she'd made an effort, Charly thought. “The code is 6446246,” she repeated.

Liam raised his brows. “Oh, sorry. I forgot.” He pressed the keypad seven times, and a beep sounded.

“I think that should be everything you need,” Nia said, then turned to walk away.

Charly gulped. This girl was going to be harder to work with than she thought. She had to come up with something to keep her around and quick. Liam stretched his eyes, urging her on. Charly shrugged. “Uh, Nia? Wait. Don't leave!”

Nia turned around. Her look hadn't changed, and Charly was sure there had to be corpses with more expression. Her eyes asked what Charly wanted, and her mouth said nothing.

Charly walked over to her. “I don't mean to intrude, but I do need some help. I don't know my way around, and I need to get some things for the show. My bags . . .” She shrugged, trying to think of a way to fluff a lie. “They didn't come in yet, and I have to have something to wear. What size are you?”

Nia gave herself a once-over. “I'm bigger than you. I wear a nine in clothes, size seven shoes. But I'm afraid you're talking to the wrong sister. Mya's the shopper,” she deadpanned.

Charly leaned closer to her, and masked her face with an uncomfortable look. “It's not necessarily the clothes I'm worried about, though I do need them. It's my toiletries. You know, girl stuff?” As soon as the words came out, she knew she'd said the wrong thing. She was at a house with two teenaged girls. Of course they had to have feminine items.

Nia gave Charly a duh look. “That's easy. Come on,” she said, then beckoned for Charly to follow her.

“I'll be back,” Charly told Liam. When Nia's back was turned, Liam gave Charly a thumbs-up. “Nia, I really appreciate you helping me. It's kinda hard to get the things I need when all I have around me are guys. If you know what I mean,” she said, following Nia into the house.

Nia only nodded, then led the way through the butler pantry, kitchen, then finally to a back staircase Charly hadn't seen. They continued to walk in silence, and Charly pushed her mind to come up with something to help her connect with the girl. She was so drawn in, and wouldn't seem to allow Charly to get close to her. Charly wondered why Nia was so emotionally distant as she stepped onto a landing, then looked around. There were only a couple of doors in the hall, definitely not enough to house all the bedrooms needed for the family members.

“Since there are only three doors, and that one is clearly a bathroom, I assume your house is set up in wings,” Charly said, pointing to the open rest room door.

“Presume,” Nia corrected. “Assume is when you're not sure of something, like a complete guess. When you're guessing based on irrefutable evidence—like three doors and one being a bathroom—the word is
presume
. Assume and presume both mean the same thing; however, they're used based on what's known and what's just a guess,” Nia said, looking at Charly. She turned her head back around, then headed to the closed door at the end of the hall. “And yes, you're right. This is the teen wing. My parents' wing is off of another staircase.” She opened the door, then beckoned Charly to follow.

Nia's life definitely enabled her nonsocial behavior, Charly noticed, when Nia only walked steps from the bedroom door and turned into an en suite bathroom. With only seconds of time to take it all in, Charly saw that Nia pretty much had everything she needed in the space, except the full-fledged library and science lab Liam and the crew would build. In one sweep of the eye she saw a bed, computer, tons of books, and a mini fridge, and nothing was out of place. In fact, the place was so neat it resembled a magazine picture. Charly shuddered. She wondered if antisocial behavior, depression, and a case of the blahs were all Nia had, because, from the looks of things, she could've been a candidate for obsessive compulsive disorder, too. Teens just weren't supposed to be so clean, not to the point where there wasn't even a wrinkle on the bedspread.

“In here,” Nia said, holding open the door to a linen closet. “Middle shelf.” She pointed, then walked away, right past Charly, then made her way back into her bedroom.

Charly heard a chair roll across the floor, then walked over to the linen closet. She leaned in a little, then moved things around. She didn't need feminine products, but she had to play the part if she wanted to be convincing. In seconds, she'd retrieved her cell phone from her pocket and held it up, hoping the signal had strengthened. She nodded when she saw the bars had risen a bit, then opened the Web app. She began Googling pharmacies in the small town. There was a major one and one she assumed was a mom-and-pop. She did a search for another big-brand pharmacy, hoping like crazy there wasn't one too near. She had to get Nia out of her comfort zone and into hers.
Please. Please. Please
, Charly begged,
let there be one by a mall. Any mall
. Being from the Midwest, she knew that even small towns had nearby malls, even if they were located in a different centrally placed small town. “Yes!” she accidently whispered when a major pharmacy popped up by a shopping center. “Nia, can you come here?” she called, tucking her phone back into her pocket, then bending her head as if she were really looking for something in the linen closet. The chair rolled again.

“Yes,” Nia said, from the doorway seconds later.

Charly shook her head. “I'm afraid I can't use any of this stuff.” She turned to look at Nia, and tried to focus on her eyes. Between the jagged scar and awful bonnet on her head, Charly had a hard time zeroing in where she was supposed to. She didn't want to offend her, sure many stared at the mark on her face, so she concentrated on the space between her eyebrows.

Nia barely stretched her eyes in wonder, but Charly could tell she'd piqued her interest. “Mya may have what you need. We're identical by DNA only, but that's where it stops. She may have other brands or types.”

Charly grimaced, then shrugged. “I don't think so. Unless she gets a prescription, I don't think anything she has will work. My body and skin are hypersensitive, so I'm limited to what my dermatologist prescribes. I don't know what I was thinking . . . I guess I wasn't. Sorry to waste your time.” Charly whipped out her cell, then started swiping the screen. She smiled. She was the actress of the year, she told herself. She didn't know how she came up with such believable tales, but was glad. “Ah-ha! We're in business.” She pretended to read an e-mail. “My doctor called in a prescription to the pharmacy. Can you take me to CVS, the one by the mall? That's the one I told them about.”

Nia shook her head, and her eyes seemed to brighten. “There's no CVS by the mall.”

“Walgreens, then?” Charly said, correcting her lie. She'd been so focused on the mall, she'd forgotten what she'd just read. She'd traveled a lot with the show, and no matter where the cast was she'd spotted one of the two pharmacies, if not both.

Nia's face changed back into defeat. She nodded. “Yes,
Walgreens
. I don't know, Charly. I'm working on a big research project . . . If I go anywhere, I'm going to the library.”

Charly wasn't going to let Nia get away so easily. It was summertime, so whatever project she was working on, if she was really working on anything, could wait. It had to. She had a mission to accomplish, and she wasn't going to let Nia or anyone else stop her. “Please, Nia. I'll owe you one. It's just that . . .” She shrugged, then made herself look sad. “No one gets me. The studio dresses me up, and I'm on TV, and I get to do a lot of great things. From the outside I know it looks like I've got it made, but it's been a trying journey,” she said truthfully. “But, honestly, no one's ever understood me.” She fluffed her lie again, hoping she could make Nia empathize. “I don't know if you understand what that's like—to not have anyone really get you.”

Nia pressed her lips together and blinked really slowly. Her inhale and exhale were audible and almost seemed deliberate. Yes, everyone had to breathe, Charly knew, but no one had to do it so loudly. Nia cleared her throat.

“Do you know what that's like, Nia?” Charly pushed, hoping for a sign, any slight change on Nia's face that would be a telltale sign that she was biting.

Nia pursed her lips, then looked to the ceiling like she was searching for an answer. Or remembering, Charly thought. She'd once read somewhere that people looked up and to the left or right, depending if they were recalling or making up something. She hoped Nia was in memory mode.

“I don't know . . .” Nia said. “Maybe you can talk to Mya.”

Charly stopped herself from shrugging. At this point she didn't care what Nia thought she didn't know. If she was going to remake this girl, she had to find a way to make Nia help her do so. She looked at her, seeing that Nia was really into working and studying. Her whole look said nerd, but it didn't scream it like it should've. Charly figured if Nia wanted to be nerdy, she should be the best at it. And that's just what Charly would assist her in doing. “Okay, let me know,” she said, then walked around Nia and went straight into her bedroom. Her eyes scanned the space, and somehow it appeared even cleaner than it had seconds before. “What's all this stuff you read?” she asked, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. She reached out, touching the spines of all the hardcovers, looking for something recognizable when a slither of something red with white lettering caught her attention.

“Science and math, mostly,” Nia was saying as she made it into the bedroom portion of the suite, then made her way over to where Charly was. She reached out, and swiped whatever the red thing was, then tucked it into her pocket.

Charly looked over her shoulder and saw Nia's discomfort. The girl clearly didn't like her things touched. Charly cocked her head and lifted her brows. “Is that jazz or classical music?” she asked, trying to identify what was playing. It was hard to tell because it was so low.

“No. It's not music. It's vibrations. They help with comprehension and retention. I don't listen to music.”

Charly thought she was going to die. There couldn't be any way possible that everyone didn't listen to music. “Really?” she asked, walking over to the docking system where the MP3 was, and was glad they had something in common, which would help her. Charly removed Nia's iPod, selected the orange music button on her phone, docked her cell and turned up the volume. Suddenly a Rihanna song blasted through the speakers. “Not even this?” Charly yelled, bopping her head, and walking away to touch other things in the room. Items she hoped would make Nia uncomfortable.

“What are you doing?” Nia snapped, turning down the music.

Charly walked to the other wall, and looked at the framed pictures that sat on top of a smaller bookcase. She nodded, noticing one of Nia and some girl she seemed to be chummy with, in what had to be their younger years. She smiled a bit, thankful that Nia had at least one friend, then picked it up and looked at Nia. “Who's this? Your friend?”

Nia shot Charly a nasty glare and nodded. “Kind of,” she began, then seemed to catch herself. Her mean look was quickly replaced by a bland one. “But then again, Rory is everyone's friend. Everyone in my house, that is. She's cool,” she answered as if talking were painful.

Charly raised her brows, wondering if Nia was really shy and depressed like everyone thought she was or if she was just undercover with her meanness. Her attitude had just flip-flopped, which made Charly question Nia's true character. Charly averted her eyes to the photo and studied it.
So this is Rory?
she thought, now able to marry a face with the girl she'd spoken to on the cell earlier. She looked over at Nia again, noticing how perplexed she looked. She was trying Nia's patience, and she knew it. She set the frame back on top of the shelf, squatted down, then finger-walked through the books until she saw one she wanted. She selected an old yearbook, walked back over to the docked iPhone, turned up the music again, then hopped on Nia's bed. She put up her feet, then opened the hardcover, looking for Nia's picture. “Oh. This is you?” she asked, locating Nia quicker than she'd thought she would. She flipped the yearbook around in her hand, turning the open page to face Nia.

Nia shook her head. “Mya, in chemistry class,” she mouthed, then removed Charly's phone from the docking device. “Chemistry was her subject for a while thanks to our dad.”