Page 23 of The Princess and the Paparazzi
“Rafe’s right, Lorelei,” I say. “People are going to figure it out. I told you I couldn’t pull off being you. I’m no actress.” I sort of hate conceding Rafe’s point. Especially since it means I’m not going to get the chance to stay here after all.So long, truffle toast.
“People are not going to figure it out, Kenna. Rafe’s known me for years. The receptionist at the spa and the household staff here have never met me in person before and aren’t as critical as he is.” She pulls up the Instagram post and shows it to Rafe. “Here’s what ‘people’ think.”
“So this photo isn’t you?” Rafe squints at the photo.
“Nope,” Lorelei grins smugly.
“Well, it’s just a photo.” He hands her phone back. “It’s not like a public appearance. She’s not speaking.”
“And she wouldn’t have to. She’ll just be here for the most part.”
And the spa. I haven’t ever been to a spa. I wouldn’t know how to act even if I was just going as me. I start to back out of the room.
“Don’t you go anywhere!” Lorelei commands. To Rafe she says, “Don’t you see how uncomfortable you’re making my guest feel? It’s not enough that you threatened to make a meringue out of her!”
The corner of his mouth twitches up and he shifts uncomfortably against the counter, staring at us both and sipping his tea.
Lorelei points to a barstool and invites me to sit. She speaks less brashly this time. “Have a seat, Kenna. Please? I promise we’ll work all this out. More tea?” She opens a drawer with about twenty varieties of imported tea.
“No thanks, I’m good.” I shake my head and sniff my Darjeeling. The embossed, gold-foil packets confirm what I already suspected—nothing but the good stuff for Lorelei.
“I still don’t understand thewhy,” Rafe says. “It’s like you’re going all ‘method actor’ on me, except there’s no role you’re actually prepping for.”
I steal glances at him through lowered lids as I pretend to sip my tea. I can see he has tiny laugh lines around his eyes and a small scar under his chin where there’s no stubble. One of his knuckles is scraped—looks like dog claws—and he has a purple hairband around his wrist. He’s a person. A real person. They both are.
Rafe sets his cup in the sink. Someone has removed the wig. He squeezes Lorelei’s shoulder as he passes her. There’s real affection in his eyes, I see. Affection and confusion. “Tell me what this is,” he says.
“I just need a little break from being me.” Lorelei runs her hand through her natural hair. “Whoever that is. I’m not sure I know anymore. Maybe I never knew. I never had the chance to find out. I mean, look at me!” She tugs on her hair. “This is my natural hair color. Who knew I was a blonde all along? I didn’t!”
Lorelei pulls up a barstool at the kitchen counter beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder now. “I want to be a regular person like her. I want to go shopping at a strip mall and go out to dinner alone without anyone writing about it onTMZ. I really want to get carded at a bar!”
“Look, Lorelei, if anyone gets it, you know I do. And if that’s what floats your boat, impersonating this person”—he waves his hand in my direction—“then, fine. I just am not OKAY with having her here on the property at the same time, impersonating you.”
Whatever happened to him calling me Ken-NA? Perhaps I shouldn’t have scrubbed the penciled-in brows off just yet.
“Where else would she go? Someone’s gotta be me while I’m being her. I need a seat filler!”
“I should probably go,” I say, sick of being spoken about instead of being spoken to. I’ve had all I can take. “Can I get my bracelet back?” I hold out my hand. I don’t care about the shorts and tank, but I need the bracelet.
“No. No one’s going anywhere yet,” Lorelei insists, popping up and pulling her phone, still wrapped in my case, from the pocket of my shorts that she is still wearing. “I’m calling Dean Riley.”
“Look, it’s probably best if I don’t do this swap OR the photos,” I stammer and stand again. “This … was a mistake.”
“What has this got to do with Dean?” Rafe asks.
“Sit!” Lorelei commands us both. Rafe narrows his eyes at me, but deigns to pull up a stool beside me. Lorelei lays her phone faceup on the counter between us.
“Hey, Lorelei, what’s up?” Dean answers on the second ring. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Dean, I’m here with Rafe. Rafe’s a little nervous about Kenna spending time on the property. Maybe you could put his mind at ease?”
“What’s the problem?” Dean asks.
“There’s noproblem,” Rafe says. “We just haven’t run a background check on her, and we don’t know much about her.”
“I’m still here,” I mouth at Lorelei, and she holds a finger over her lips to silence me.
Dean laughs. “Are you kidding me, Rafe? My girlfriend, Chelsea, has known Kenna since high school. She’s beloved around here. Aside from being famous as the town’s best barista, she spends her weekends volunteering at a pet shelter. And just to let you know, she shook off a paparazzo on her way to deliver lunch to the cast yesterday. What else do you need to know? Her uncles own the local diner, she’s sweet and funny, if a little quirky, and it’s rumored she has terrible taste in men. Must be why she’s such a huge fan of yours.”
