Page 2 of Faking Ties

“Of course,” Rachel says. “We’d sign a contract and everything.”

Stella gives Rachel a dirty look but remains silent.

“I’m not sure,” I say, slowly. “My mom is sick, and I can’t just leave for a day, or months. And let’s not get into the fact that I’m not sure I can even do this.”

“We’ll pay you one hundred thousand dollars every day you’re Stella,” Rachel says. “And I can organize a live-in nurse for your mom if you do this.”

I choke on my own spit at that figure. One hundred thousand dollars.A day. That’s more money than I’ve ever dreamed about making in a single year, much less a day. A single day as Stella would pay off my student loan debt. A single day would help me get ahead of Mom’s mortgage and finally get her the physical therapy she desperately needs. We could move to a nicer house, one that doesn’t have a water-stained ceiling. Twenty-four hours is all it’d take for me to breathe easier for the first time in years.

“We’ve got to get to Stella’s doctor’s appointment,” Rachel says, checking her watch. “We’ll leave you to think on it. Here’s my number.” Rachel hands me a swanky business card with swirly gold lettering. “I need an answer within the next two hours if you can make tonight. If you’re successful at the charity event, we can discuss you taking over fully and sign all the necessary contracts.”

I nod stupidly, not sure what to say. Rachel opens the front door, and Stella pulls up the hood of hersweatshirt and pops on a pair of oversized sunglasses. She stops next to me.

“Please consider it,” Stella whispers. “I really need your help.”

Once the door shuts, I don’t even know how to process what just happened. Sure, I’ve been told multiple times I look like Stella, but I’ve always brushed it off. I’ll admit that I’ve kept my blonde hair long to match Stella’s, but I went rogue and got blunt bangs. Mostly to hide behind, to blend into this stupid town, even if it didn’t work.

Nina and Mom insist it’s true, that I look like her, but everyone knows when the people closest to you make that kind of comparison, it’s not to be believed. And the random strangers who comment on my appearance? Their opinions don’t matter. Not when I hate this town with a passion, and I learned a long time ago to not take to heart what anyone says.

And now Stella wants me to act like her? At a real event?

It’s insanity.

It’s never going to work.

It’s tempting as hell.

Not only because of the money, or the chance to leave this town behind, but because I’m a huge fan of Stella’s. She’s clearly going through something and yet she still took the time to come here in person and ask me for help. She seems like someone who cares about her fans and the people who work for her. That’s morethan I can say about most people I know, and I can’t help but respect that about her.

Grabbing my keys and purse, I head over to Mom’s, which is just next door since I’m living above her garage. A blast of heat hits me in the face when I enter the house. It’s hotter inside than outside, which is saying something because summer in Tennessee isn’t a comfortable kind of heat. It’s the sticky, suffocating kind.

“Mom?” I call out. “Why is it so hot in here?”

“I think the AC is broken,” she says from the living room. I find her sitting on her favorite flower-upholstered couch with a fan in one hand and the TV remote in the other. A smile, strained at the edges, flickers across her face as she spots me. Sweat clings to her brown hair, but it can't quite extinguish the effort behind the gesture.

Shit. The AC? That’s thousands of dollars I don’t have. I’ve already maxed out my credit cards, and it’s not like either of us has any savings. It wasn’t always like this. When my father was in the picture, we didn’t have to worry about money. But after Mom’s car accident six years ago left her with chronic back pain and a bout of depression, he wanted out. It turns out his wedding vows were nothing more than empty words. In sickness and in health? My ass.

“How long has it been like this?” I ask.

“Just a couple hours.”

“You should’ve come to my place.” Not like it’d be better, but at least I have a fan.

She gives me a placating smile. Of course, my place wouldn’t be sufficient. I only have a lumpy twin bed and she can’t sit or stand for too long or else she could risk a flare-up. Keeping a job is next to impossible for her, and every day is a constant battle of trying to manage her pain levels.

“Let me grab the fan from my place and call someone to get this fixed.”

“I’ll be fine. I don’t need the AC anyway…”

“Yes, you do. I’ll pick up some extra shifts to cover the cost,” I lie. Even with extra shifts, it won’t help. A college dropout doesn’t qualify me for anything more than a minimum-wage salary and never-ending debt. My life is a hamster wheel of working nonstop without making a dent in the bills and mortgage on Mom’s house. The house Dad promised to pay off, but never did. The house that’s a constant money pit with all the upkeep and repairs needed.

But if I took Rachel’s offer, I wouldn’t have to worry about any of this. Even just once would be enough to help. Mom deserves better than only eating pasta, living in a hot house with peeling wallpaper, and being constantly in pain. She’s the kindest person I know, and the best adoptive mom I could’ve ever asked for. Since she first brought me home when I was a month old, she’s showered me with love every single day. She’s the type of person who was meant to be amom, but just couldn’t have a baby of her own. And she doesn’t deserve this kind of life.

“I was offered to do a job tonight,” I blurt out. “One that pays amazingly well. But I’d be gone for a couple days since it’s in a different city.”

“Why do you say it like you’re going to do a job for the mafia?”

“Mom,” I groan. “Are you watchingThe Sopranosagain? You know there are other shows out there that are much newer.”

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