Page 23 of Faking Ties

“Why do I have a feeling I’m going to be throwing up the pie when I’m done with this bootcamp?”

“Because you will be.” Rachel smiles wider.

I glare at Stella in accusation, and she says, “It won’t be that bad. You look athletic. You’ll be fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. The mirrored walls of her penthouse studio quickly become my own funhouse of misery. The choreography that seemed simple at first is anything but. Stella is known to be fun and interactive while she performs, and I’m not sure if even my background in theater is going to get me to her level in such a short time.

Stella apparently trains by running while singing her set list. I made it halfway through before throwing up.

Each morning, my voice feels like sandpaper scraping against raw flesh. Vocal lessons on top of singing the entire set list while running on a treadmill only to be followed by throwing up halfway through has abused my poor throat. Running is something I used to love, but now I hate it. Not when I know it’ll just end with me running for the nearest garbage can.

Rachel, the choreographer, the vocal coach… Not one of them cares that I’m dying every day. They just push me harder, until I pass out. Even then, I still have to continue according to Rachel.

I stumble down the hallway after yet another brutal training. I’m late to my daily imitation session with Stella, aka the only time I get a break. It’s when I learn to walk and talk like her and practice how to handle interviews. The first promotional event for Jax’s movie is soon and he’s the most dangerous person to be around while pretending to be Stella. He’s known her for years and I can’t lose my Stella mask around him.

Panting, I lean heavily on the wall. My vision swarms during my next step. And the next, until my world tilts and I collapse to the hardwood floor with a thud.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Stella rushes to my side, kneeling beside me.

“Just thought the floor needed a hug,” I rasp out.

She ignores my joke and places her hand on my head. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Training.”

“What the fuck are they doing to you?” she whispers.

“How do you do it?” I ask, tears leaking down my cheeks. All the doubt that’s been my constant companion breaks through to the surface. “How do you manage? Because I don’t think I can do it, not like this.”

“Whatever’s going on, I’m going to put an end to it.I’ll talk to Rachel.” She grips my arm and helps me to my feet. “Let’s get you to bed, and I’ll call a doctor to come check you out. I’ll fix it. I promise.”

“Sure,” I say, not really believing her. Rachel is part of her team, and I’m just temporary. Of course, she’s going to respect Rachel’s methodology.

Once I collapse into bed, and Stella disappears, I check my phone. This simple act is the only thing getting me through my days. All because of Hunter’s messages. Sometimes he sends me a meme, sometimes a picture of him sweaty and looking hot after a day at training camp, sometimes it’s just a thinking-about-you kind of text. They’re what I think about when I’m dying on the treadmill or when I’m being yelled at for messing up the choreography.

It’s the one bright spot of my day, and it’s still weird he’s writing me so often when what’s between us is fake. I asked him about it, and he said we need to get to know each other to sell the ruse. But Stella’s been such a public figure for so long, I’m terrified I’ll reveal something that’ll tip him off that I’m not her.

Jeggings: I think Huskies might not be the best dog for you.

Me: That’s random, why not? They’re adorable.

Hunter sendsme a video of a Husky howling and being overly dramatic for no reason.

Me: I never knew Huskies could make that kind of sound.

Jeggings: Me neither. How are you?

Me: Fine. You?

Jeggings: Well, I’m killing it at training camp. But that’s to be expected, of course. Tell me more about you. What’s going on in your life?

I likehis message and then stuff my phone under the pillow. It’s not like I can tell him that I’m struggling. He can’t know what’s going on or else it’ll just lead to questions, ones I can’t answer.

At the end of the day, this is what I signed up for. This is what I’m getting paid for. I have to suck it up and bear it, even if I’m dying a little inside every day when I pass out due to overexertion. Even if I’m starting to regret ever agreeing to this thing.

HUNTER

Iarrive to the hotel in LA with a dessert in one hand and my black-on-black suit in the other. Coach wasn’t happy when I asked to miss a day of training camp, but he must be a fan of Stella’s because once I explained that it’s for her and to protect her from Jax, he caved.

---