Page 93 of Anyone But the Superstar

It’s Camilla’s last warning.

A text flashes above the picture of my mother and me attending the Golden Globes last year that a tabloid is using in their ‘exposé’:

Are you sure you don’t want me to come up?

While Jack knew there were things to collect from the condo, he had wanted to do it for me. But as the location hadn’t been leaked yet, I felt it a good idea to do it myself. To get some of the answers I should’ve insisted on from the start of my relationship with An—Elizabeth.

I just hadn’t expected her not to be here when I arrived. Or that she would’ve taken my rental car.

‘Meow.’ Mike bats a hidden treat from under the couch toward him.

I also hadn’t expected her to have left Mike alone in the apartment.

The sound of keys rattling against the door jerks my attention to the left.

Not wanting to be at a disadvantage, I stand, preparing myself to hear things I don’t want to butneedto.

Yet even with all my mental preparation, my heart isn’t prepared for when Anne walks into the condo.

Her hair is a halo of frizzy flyways from her ponytail, her skinflushed and damp from the heat, her expression somehow stunning and murderous at the same time.

‘Elizabeth.’ Not Anne, I remind myself.

She stutter steps in her Birkenstocks as the door swings shut behind her. Then, as if my knowing her lies doesn’t faze her, she continues toward me, dropping her bag with a thud just a few feet away from mine by me feet. ‘Douchebag.’

I balk, her anger at me unexpected, like so many other things about her. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me.’ She tosses my rental keys on the coffee table between us. ‘As you’re already packed—’ she thumbs over her shoulder ‘—get out.’

My hands fist at my sides. ‘That’s how you want to play this?’

‘Play what?’

‘Play this whole act you started, trying to get close to me for a story.’

‘Wait.’ She laughs unkindly. ‘You’re going to blameyourcheating onme?’ She shakes her head. ‘You made me the other woman and then spent the night with your co-worker?’ Tears well in her eyes. ‘Ipromisedmyself I would never get involved with someone like…’ She trails off, her fists pressing against her eyes. ‘Jesus, your poor fiancée.’

‘Poor fiancée?’ I sneer. ‘So your friend Camilla got you to believe her lies too, huh?’

‘Friend?’ She lowers her hands, confusion in her watery eyes. ‘I don’t even know Camilla.’

‘Sure.’ As much as it hurts, I’m almost happy to catch her in one of her lies. Pulling the image Jack printed out from my back pocket, I hand it to her. ‘How would you explain this then?’

She stares at the photo, a deep V between her brows. ‘Where…?’ Taking it from my outstretched hand, she continues to study the photo of her and Camilla, their combined outfits and accessories probably more than the average person’s yearly salary, as if genuinely confused. ‘This… this must have been a few years ago.’

She’s a good actor. I’ll give her that. But I’m done living a fantasy. I only ever wanted to work in make-believe, not live it.

‘Sure. And I guess you’ll tell me you didn’t know your family is currently working with Camilla on her own fashion line?’

A light of recognition clicks in Anne’s –Elizabeth’s– eyes. ‘That’s not me. I don’t have anything to do with Moore’s.’

‘Just stop.’

Not as aggressive now that I have proof, she holds up both hands. ‘Look, I don’t know what you’re accusing me of, but the only thing I did was not tell you my first name.’ She crosses her arms over her chest. ‘You’re the one cheating and carrying on. And what is this about your mother? You told me last night that nothing?—’

‘Don’t eventhinkof bringing my mother into this.’

She steps back from the force of my words.

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