Just for Show

by Jae

  “Oh yeah. If anyone can understand that, it’s me. I never gave up on my dream to become an actress, even though everyone told me someone who looked like me would never make it in Hollywood.”

  Claire bristled. “Nonsense. If Hollywood stopped hiring only super-thin actresses, maybe not so many of my patients would suffer from self-worth issues and eating disorders.”

  “Amen.” Lana nearly sang it out.

  The guy across the aisle looked over again.

  Claire decided to ignore him. “About having to face all the same questions during book promotion… I guess I’ll have to cross that bridge when I come to it. From what my agent said, it might take a year or more until my book is out. A lot could happen in that time.”

  A lot that would no longer involve Lana.

  She shoved that thought away and continued, “Not that I’m planning to rush into a new relationship or anything, but I figured by then maybe I would have met someone new and wouldn’t have to lie when I tell them I’m in a happy relationship.”

  How strange it felt to say that! Wrong somehow, as if she were betraying what she had with Lana. You don’t have anything with her. It’s all just a show you’re putting on to get the book deal.

  Lana stared into her almost empty cup and swirled the half-melted ice cubes around. Tiny wrinkles furrowed her brow. “Yeah, I guess that could happen. I mean, a good-looking woman like you…” She paused and peeked from the ice cubes to Claire. “But could you be sure you’re with her because you really want to be…or because it’s good for the book promotion?”

  What? How could Lana think that of her? It felt as if Lana had tossed that ice-cold water into her face. “I would never tell a woman I love her just because I want to use her as a promotion tool!” Claire struggled to lower her voice. “I know you don’t have the best opinion of psychologists, but do you really think that of me? If I were the type to do things like that, I wouldn’t have had to hire you.”

  Lana abruptly gulped down the contents of the cup, ice cubes and all. “That’s not what I meant. But how can you be sure you’re not tricking yourself into believing you love her when what you really love is that she makes you one half of a perfect couple? My mother had that down to an art form. She always deluded herself into thinking she loved her boyfriends, just so she didn’t need to be alone. How can you know you’re not doing the same?”

  “I…” She wanted to say that it wouldn’t happen to her, but then again, she had deluded herself into thinking that she and Abby were happy together. Honesty, remember? At least be honest with Lana, even if you can’t be honest with everyone else. “I…I don’t know. I hope by then, I’ll be able to trust my own judgment again.”

  Lana studied her now-empty cup for what seemed like a full minute. Finally, she nodded. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. Until then… Do you want to borrow some of my judgment and have me read more of the book?”

  Claire stared down at the folder on her lap. She was tempted to shake her head and tell her it wasn’t necessary; feedback on one chapter was enough. But deep down, she knew it would have been a cop-out. Slowly, she took chapter three from the folder and held it out across the armrest.

  Lana took it, and for a few moments, they held on to it from both sides of the armrest. “It’s the chapter on honesty, isn’t it?” Lana said without having looked at it.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you,” Lana said.

  Claire nodded and let go.

  Chapter 14

  The sights and sounds of New York City were still familiar, even after thirteen years on the West Coast. While Lana preferred the more laid-back pace of life in California, she’d kind of missed this too.

  Just not the smell of trash, exhaust fumes, and urine wafting up from the subway grates—and especially not the blaring sirens and the car horns rising over the din of traffic and loud cell-phone conversations.

  The honking and sirens made her break out in a sweat despite the air-conditioned cab that was taking them to their Midtown hotel.

  Claire threw her a concerned look and leaned forward. “Could you turn off the radio, please?”

  The cabbie grunted and turned off the radio.

  “Thank you,” Lana said, more to Claire than to him.

  Claire tilted her head. “No use taking chances, right?”

  Lana nodded.

  As they crossed Fifth Avenue and caught sight of the Empire State Building to their left, Claire craned her neck and looked out the side window closest to her, then through the one on Lana’s side, as if not wanting to miss a thing.

  Despite her tension, Lana had to laugh. “You look exactly like Avery did when she accompanied me to an adult store and saw a strap-on for the first time!”

  A blush shot up Claire’s neck, making Lana grin even more. She was too cute when she flushed like this, so Lana could never resist teasing her.

  “Hush.” Claire peeked at the cabbie, who was now glancing in the rear-view mirror, all ears. “I don’t look like…like that.”

  “Oh yes, you do. Just as curious and fascinated, but not sure it’ll actually be your cup of tea. Haven’t you ever been to New York?”

  “No, never. You?”

  “I lived here for about a year when I was fifteen,” Lana said.

  Claire, who’d turned back to the Empire State Building, swiveled around. “Really?”

  Lana nodded. “My mom moved us here to be with one of her boyfriends.”

  “Did you like it?” Claire asked.

  “Not at first since moving to New York meant I had to leave the love of my life behind.” Lana sighed dramatically. “Ms. Fisher. My drama club teacher.”

  Claire laughed. “Was she aware of your undying love?”

  “Nope. Thank God my mother dragged me halfway across the country before I could embarrass myself with a love letter or something like that.”

  Their cabbie slowed because a construction site blocked one lane. Soon, traffic came to a complete standstill, and the honking behind them became nearly constant.

  “You can let us out here,” Lana said. “The hotel is right around the corner. Just pop the trunk for a moment.”

  Claire raised her brows.

  “Come on.” Lana nudged her. “Be a little adventurous.”

  “Okay, okay.” Claire paid the cabbie and then followed her as she climbed out of the cab.

  The scent of hot dogs, Chinese food, pretzels, and candy apples hit Lana, mingling with some less-pleasant odors.

  They grabbed their suitcases and squeezed past the honking cars.

  Their hotel was a brick-glass-and-steel building that didn’t look very big, but when they entered through a set of sliding glass doors, an impressive lobby with a long bar awaited them. Fire flickered in wood-burning ovens visible through the open restaurant kitchen.

  Lana nearly let out a low whistle. Wow. Had the publisher sprung for this, or was Claire footing the bill?

  With their suitcases in tow, they crossed the lobby, past brown leather couches, toward the marble-topped reception desk.

  The man behind the desk greeted them with a smile. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”

  “Yes, please,” Claire said. “We’d like to check in.”

  “Do you have a reservation?”

  “Yes. My name is Claire Renshaw, but the reservation might be under Wishing Tree Publishing since my publisher did the booking for us.”

  The receptionist punched in several key strokes and glanced at his computer screen. “Here it is. One room for Renshaw.”

  “One room?” Claire repeated.

  Lana and Claire exchanged a look.

  Duh! Lana couldn’t believe they hadn’t expected it. Of course they’d reserve just one room for us. They think we’re engaged!

  “Um, yes.” The receptionist’s brow furrowe
d. “Is there a problem with that?”

  “Should we try to get another…?” Claire whispered to Lana.

  “No. It’s fine,” Lana answered for both of them. She had shared a room with various stepsisters and friends over the years, so sharing a room with Claire for two nights should be fine.

  The receptionist made an entry into his computer and then slid two key cards across the desk. “Room 1108. On the eleventh floor. The elevators are that way.” He pointed to the left. “Do you need help with your luggage?”

  “No, we can handle it,” Claire said.

  “Enjoy your stay, and let us know if you need anything.”

  As soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, Claire slumped against the mirrored wall. “Damn. I should have paid more attention to the confirmation email they sent me.”

  “Even if you had, it’s not like you could have told them to book a separate room for me.” Lana gave her an encouraging nudge with her shoulder. “Now we at least don’t need to lie when we tell people we slept together.”

  “I’m not in the habit of telling people about my love life or lack thereof anyway,” Claire muttered.

  Once they arrived on their floor, she slid the key card into the lock and held the door open so Lana could enter with her suitcase.

  “Thanks.” Lana stepped past her.

  Their room was small, but tastefully decorated. Exposed brick walls gave it a warm, old-time charm, which was balanced by the modern look of the forty-two-inch flat-screen TV and the Nespresso machine on the desk.

  The view from the floor-to-ceiling window immediately drew Lana’s attention. “Oh wow. Look!” She went to the window and pointed at the Empire State Building a few blocks to the south. It seemed almost close enough to touch.

  Claire didn’t say anything, even though she had marveled at the sights of New York earlier.

  Her lack of response made Lana turn around.

  Instead of enjoying the view, Claire had stopped in the middle of the room and was staring at the bed with its studded headboard.

  The only bed.

  Oh.

  Now they were both staring at the piece of furniture.

  Come on. It’s a king size. It’s not like we’ll be lying on top of each other all night. The thought brought heat to her cheeks. Hey, I said not!

  Finally, Claire cleared her throat. “Are you still fine with sharing a room?” She pointed at the bed. “I mean, this wasn’t in the contract.”

  “Relax. It’s fine. We’re both adults, and it’s a big bed. I call dibs on the side closer to the bathroom.” Lana plopped down on that side of the bed. Mmm. Nice mattress. Not that it would get any action or anything. She bounced a little. “So, what are we doing with the rest of the day?”

  “I thought I’d go over the manuscript again, then we could have dinner at the restaurant downstairs and make it an early night,” Claire said.

  Lana stared at her. “You’re in New York for the first time and want to make it an early night?”

  “Um, yeah? Tomorrow is a big day for me.”

  “What if I promise to have you in bed by eleven?”

  Claire hesitated.

  “Okay, ten,” Lana offered.

  “I really should look at the manuscript again…”

  “You read it about three dozen times on the plane, Claire. All you’re going to do is drive yourself crazy and be a nervous wreck by tomorrow.” Lana got up, rounded the bed, and grabbed Claire’s hand. “Come on. Let me show you a bit of the city.”

  “Okay, okay. Can I use the bathroom and get changed first?”

  Lana laughed and let go of her hand. “All right. But hurry. There’s a lot to explore.” She couldn’t wait to show Claire some of the sights and see that look of almost childlike amazement on her face again.

  Claire couldn’t remember when she’d last walked so much—or had so much fun. She’d assumed Lana would drag her toward nearby Times Square with its hustle and bustle, but instead, Lana had shown her several beautiful hidden spots in the Garden District.

  They had wandered along rows of long oak tables in the Rose Main Reading Room of the New York Public Library, staring up at the chandeliers and the mural with its floating clouds on the high ceiling.

  When they got hungry, Lana led her to a hole-in-the-wall food counter that Claire would have completely missed if she’d been alone. It was tucked into the loading dock of an office building and had only five faux-leather-covered stools in front of a counter. The light from fluorescent tubes flickered over weathered concrete.

  Claire skeptically eyed the place and the food that was being served on paper plates and eaten with plastic cutlery. “Um, are you sure about this?”

  “Very sure. Their food was to die for thirteen years ago, and I bet that hasn’t changed.”

  Claire pointed at the beans and the salsa on the paper plates of the people eating at the counter. “Not the best idea. I want to impress the radio host and her audience with my book tomorrow morning, not with my…um…”

  “Noisy digestive system?” Lana suggested with a grin.

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “Let’s get some empanadas to go, then. I already know where to take you for dessert.”

  Each with a cheese empanada in hand, they ventured back outside.

  Claire took a careful nibble, then a more enthusiastic bite. The cheese and the warm pastry seemed to melt in her mouth.

  Lana elbowed her while they walked. “Admit it. It’s great.”

  Busy chewing, Claire hummed her agreement. “I don’t think I need dessert after this,” she said once she’d swallowed.

  “You say that now. Wait until you see what I have in mind.” Lana hooked her arm through Claire’s and guided her past boutiques and gift stores to a little café with a white-and-pink awning.

  Claire hastily finished her empanada before Lana pulled her inside.

  Hundreds of macarons in all colors of the rainbow were displayed behind a glass counter.

  “What can I get you?” one of the women behind the counter asked. She was wearing a French maid outfit with a white apron and a lacy headpiece.

  Claire stifled a laugh as she remembered a couple she had counseled last year. They had described using the same kind of uniform to spice up their sex life.

  “What?” Lana asked.

  Claire opened her mouth to explain, then snapped it shut. Wow. She had almost told Lana about something that had occurred in a therapy session. That had never happened to her—not even once in her seven years with Abby. “Sorry. It’s work-related, so I can’t share.”

  Lana gave her a knowing grin. “I think I can guess what it is.”

  The French maid cleared her throat, so they both turned back toward the counter.

  Lana ordered a rose lychee and a honey lavender macaron, while Claire studied the menu posted behind the counter, which explained the different flavors. So many to choose from… Finally, she remembered what her father had said about her childhood habit of taking forever to order food in a restaurant and just went with vanilla and pistachio.

  “It took you half an hour to pick that?” Lana bumped her with her hip. She leaned closer and whispered, “So you’re the vanilla type, huh? Should I expect to get bored sharing a bed with you tonight?”

  Good thing Claire hadn’t taken a bite of her macaron yet, or she’d have choked to death. Her cheeks heated. “Sleep,” she said firmly. “That’s what you can expect tonight.” She turned to the woman behind the counter. “She’s paying.”

  Laughing, Lana pulled out her credit card.

  They left the café and wandered toward the Hudson River while sharing their macarons. Claire had to admit that the more adventurous flavors Lana had picked were better than the traditional ones she had chosen, even though she would never openly acknowledge tha
t.

  The sun started to sink lower, and Claire realized with regret that their afternoon of exploring New York was coming to an end. She glanced at her wristwatch.

  “Oh no, Cinderella. It’s not time to leave the ball just yet.” Lana covered Claire’s wrist with one hand so she couldn’t see the time. “There’s one more thing I want to show you.” She hooked her arm through Claire’s again and pulled her around a corner, beneath a railroad overpass, and then up a winding metal staircase.

  “Where are we going?” Claire asked. “Aren’t there train tracks up there? Um, I really think we shouldn’t…”

  Lana paused on the step above Claire and turned toward her. “Do you trust me?”

  Claire looked into her eyes. “Yes.” It came out with no hesitation, which amazed her.

  “Good. Then come on.” Lana reached for her hand and pulled her up so they were on the same step before she continued on her way.

  Side by side, they climbed the remainder of the stairs.

  Instead of gravel and rusty train tracks, Claire encountered an elevated steel walkway set beneath a canopy of magnolia trees and shrubbery she didn’t recognize. Two old warehouses to their left and right created the feeling of standing on a bridge leading through a canyon. Some people sat on benches, reading, while others stood at the railing of a platform overlooking the street thirty feet below.

  It was as if they had suddenly been transported into another world—still part of the city, but removed from it at the same time.

  Claire realized she was gaping. “What is this?”

  Lana grinned. “This is the High Line.”

  “I bet it was one of your favorite spots when you lived here.”

  Lana gave her a moment to look around, then hooked her arm through Claire’s again and set them off along the walkway, which led north for more blocks than Claire could see.

  “This didn’t exist when I lived here. Well, it did, but it was just abandoned railroad tracks. My friends and I hung out here sometimes.”

  Claire’s steps faltered. “Wasn’t that dangerous?”