I summoned my most disarming smile. “If I’ve been rude—sorry.”
“No problem,” Warren said.
“Sadie’s right, I’ve been a grouch. I’m a little hung-over still, but that’s no reason to take my bad mood out on you.”
“I’ve been hung-over, too, and it bites,” Warren replied. “Lucky for you, I give great neck rubs. When we stop, I’ll massage away your pain.”
And try to suck away my energy, I thought suspiciously.
Trying to be polite, just in case he wasn’t an energy vampire, I pasted on a smile. “Sure, that sounds cool.” Then, with stealth purpose, I added, “While you’re massaging, I’d like to try on your gloves. The dragon design is cool and the leather looks so soft.”
“Forget it. No one wears them but me.”
“You can’t give a massage with gloves,” I argued.
“Yeah, I can. It’s better that way.”
“I’d love a massage,” Sadie said, her hand on the steering wheel as she turned toward Warren.
“Sure, babe.”
“But Rayah’s got a point about the gloves. I’d rather feel your strong hands on my shoulders.”
“It’s either with gloves or not at all. I don’t take them off in public; they’re my personal icon.” His tone was friendly but when he waved his hands my direction, I felt a chill that made me shiver despite the stuffy warmness inside the car.
Sadie took Warren’s words as a challenge and spent the next few miles trying to bribe him to take off his gloves. No matter what Sadie offered, Warren refused. Definitely suspicious.
This would be a great time for another Temp Lifer to pop in. I sent a silent message to Grammy Greta, clasping my fingers together as if praying. And to my surprise, I felt something—a warm sense of calm and a light caress on my shoulder. Then it was gone. Had I imagined it? Or had Grammy given me a pat on the back to encourage me to keep trying?
Only I don’t know what to try, I thought, staring down at my hands.
Not my hands. Those pale bony fingers were loaners; without freckles and stubby fingernails. There was a whitish tan line around the ring finger on the left hand that I hadn’t noticed before. Sharayah must have worn a ring for months to develop a tan line. I wondered why she stopped wearing it. Did it have anything to do with the mysterious boyfriend Gabe?
As I puzzled over this, a noisy breeze blew in from Sadie’s open window, swirling my hair in my face. I inhaled a blend of smog and salty air that made me think of the ocean. We were still far from the Pacific, but I’d be able to see it soon. I loved, loved, loved the ocean. I hadn’t been to the ocean in a long time, not since my family doubled in size and we were shackled with adorable but demanding triplets. It would be so wonderful to kick off my shoes, run on the warmed sand, and splash in frothy blue-gray waves. I’d have a kick-ass spring break wading in the surf and sunning on the beach. Except, I suddenly remembered, Mauve said Sharayah had an ocean phobia, even had bad dreams about the ocean. How could anyone be afraid of something so beautiful? And how could I pretend to be afraid of something I loved so much?
I am sick of pretending, I thought as I glanced up at Warren’s arm stretched across his seat, his gloved fingers a reach away.
“Hey, Rayah! How do you like this station?” Sadie had switched from the CD to the radio, jumping from song to song. She stopped on a familiar song, turning up the volume. “It’s that alt blues song you like, ‘Bleeding on the Inside.’”
“I love this song,” I said, surprised to share musical taste with Sharayah.
“Well, duh, that’s why I chose this channel. It’s got all our favorite songs. Remember when we sang on karaoke night?” Sadie giggled. “We were so smashed on Long Island Iced teas that you tripped over a cord and knocked us both off the stage. This really cute waiter caught me but you landed on a table. Wasn’t it a riot?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said vaguely.
“Sing with me, Rayah,” Sadie urged. “Let’s show Warren how we duet on karaoke nights.”
I couldn’t! I’d never sung in front of anyone. I had good rhythm, but a voice lethal enough to kill airborne germs.
But the real Sharayah wouldn’t refuse.
So I sucked up my shyness and sang along softly with Sadie. She had a nasally voice and a hilarious way of inventing her own lyrics. I didn’t know whether she couldn’t remember words or she just didn’t care. I cringed every time she got a word wrong.
At first I was just playing along, not really thinking about anything, until suddenly it hit me: I didn’t suck. Well, Sharayah didn’t. I lifted my voice, amazed by its power and absolutely perfect pitch.
“Wow,” Warren said when the song ended. “Rayah, you were great.”
“What about me?” Sadie pouted.
“Unforgettable,” he said.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sadie said, giving his arm a playful swat. “But I agree that Rayah’s a natural. I begged her to try out for American Idol only she refused.”
“Talent like yours shouldn’t be wasted,” Warren told me.
“Don’t bother trying to convince her,” Sadie said. “Rayah has a great voice but no ambition to do anything about it. Can you believe she’s majoring in medicine? Like hanging out around sick people would be more fun than performing in front of millions of fans. She could be a real star if she’d just go for it.”
So why didn’t Sharayah go for it? I wondered. My “borrowed” voice had full range, passion, and a soulful quality. The hint of dusky vibration added uniqueness—the extra factor the music industry loved. Of course, it took talent to be a doctor or nurse, too, and I had nothing against the medical profession. But a beautiful voice was a gift to be shared with the world, and becoming a star would be more exciting than taking blood pressure. I would give almost anything to have Sharayah’s natural talent. Unfortunately, my real voice could scare small children. That’s partly why I decided to become an entertainment agent. If I couldn’t be a star, I’d create them.
Recently, I’d come close to signing my first client. This new girl at school, Trinidad, wowed me so much with her powerhouse voice that I knew she was destined for stardom. So what if I didn’t have any experience as an entertainment agent? How do you get experience without taking risks? Trinidad was so talented that I knew I could convince a studio to sign her (and me!) on. But before I had a chance, the whole body-switch happened.
Now I had a chance to sign up another new talent— myself!
Puzzle pieces flew up in my mind, danced pirouettes, and fell down in perfect place. It all made sense now. This was why I’d been put in Sharayah’s body and why we were headed to Venice, not far from Los Angeles where Hollywood dreams come true. It wasn’t a cosmic error. I was the perfect person to help Sharayah become a star.
I tingled with the thrill of this “ah ha!” moment, confident I’d complete my assignment quickly. If it meant staying with Sharayah’s friends at a luxurious beach condo, well, I was willing to make that sacrifice.
“At last! A gas station.” Sadie pointed as she merged onto a right-hand ramp. “And my phone has a signal.”
“Great!” I said.
“You can use the restroom first,” she told me. “I got some texts to send to my family, but should be done when you get back.”
The car came to a stop by the food mart attached to the gas station. I grabbed Sharayah’s purse in case I needed money and scrambled out.
“Wait up, Rayah!” Warren called but I ignored him, picking up my pace.
As I pushed open the glass door, I sniffed the buttery scent of popcorn along with sugary pastries and other yummy snacks. I had plenty of cash—why not spend some of it on food? I drooled a little at a shelf of assorted candy bars, debating on whether I’d rather have a Milky Way, Peanut M&M’s or a Kit Kat bar.
I followed a hand-written sign to a restroom far in the back.
The bathroom had a sour odor and only two narrow stalls. One of them was missing a door, so I chos
e the other.
I was humming to myself, still in awe over the amazing voice coming from my mouth. Lost in starry dreams and all the possibilities, I was only faintly aware of the sound of the door opening. Then the lights went out.
“Hey, who turned off the lights?” I cried.
No one answered, but I heard faint footsteps padding toward the stalls. In the dim light coming from the high windows, two white sneakers seem to glow like eerie ghosts. Instead of heading for the stall adjacent to mine, they stopped outside my locked door.
“Sharayah,” said a low voice hissed with hatred. “It’s all over.”
Through the slit in the door I saw a glint of fiery curls.
The red-haired girl had found me.
And then she kicked the door.
A zillion thoughts raced through my head—all urging me to flee. But sitting on a toilet with my jeans bunched around my ankles wasn’t exactly a position for a quick getaway. The door was already hanging a little askew from her kick. I didn’t think it would survive another.
“Who’s there?” I called out, standing and pulling up my jeans.
“You know,” she growled.
“No, I don’t!”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not!” I cried. “What do you want from me?”
“Come find out,” she said ominously.
“I don’t want any trouble.”
“Too late.”
Her tone boiled with fury—and even though I tried not to freak out, I was scared. How could I get away? She blocked the only way out of the room. What if she had a gun or knife? All I had was my purse and its assorted, non-lethal items.
Think, think! I urged myself. In the hundreds of self-help books I’d read, what advice would help protect me from a psycho enemy? My brain blanked. She wouldn’t really try to kill me … would she? I could only see her shoes and a slash of red hair through the gaps around the door. What if she attacked me? Would anyone hear my screams?
“Why did you follow me here?” I tried to sound calm, but my hands shook as I zipped my jeans. “What did I ever do to you?”
“How can you even ask that?” Her voice rose hysterically. “You ruined everything … but it ends now. Open the door.”
Uh huh. No way. Not on my life—literally.
But I couldn’t stay in a locked bathroom forever, so what was I going to do?
I was considering crawling underneath into the next stall when I heard sweet sounds—footsteps and the jiggle of the door knob.
Someone was coming into the room!
“Why is it so dark?” I heard Sadie say before she cried, “Hey, what the—!”
There was a slap of sneakers and a gasp.
“Watch where you’re going! What’s your problem?” Sadie swore as the red-haired girl bumped into her. There was a groan, then the sharp bang of the door slamming. “Rayah? Rayah!” Her voice rose. “Are you in here?”
I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see me through the stall door and called out in a shaky whisper, “Y-Yes.”
“Why are the lights off? Must have been that bitch.” She flipped the light on. “Are you okay?”
“I am now.” I sucked in a deep breath, then took a step forward on shaky legs, hooking my purse strap on my arm and unlatching the door.
“What the hell is going on?” Sadie rubbed her shoulder, flipping her braid away from her reddened face. “Did you see that freaking girl who smashed into me?”
“I couldn’t see much of anything.”
“Damn girl pushed me into the wall and then ran out of here … hey! Why are you hugging me?”
It was impossible to explain right then; my emotions were racing to catch up with my thoughts. I was confused about what had happened and afraid to know what might have happened if Sadie hadn’t showed up. Sadie may have just saved my life.
“You’re trembling.” Sadie studied my face. “What’s going on? That girl was familiar, like I’ve seen her around campus. Do you know her?”
“Not her name—but she’s the same redheaded girl who glared at me in the campus parking lot. Thank God you showed up because she sounded crazy, like she was about to get violent.”
“No shit!” Sadie did a double-take. “So why are we just standing around? Shouldn’t we tell someone?”
“You mean the police?”
“Well … maybe not that drastic.” Sadie hesitated, a thoughtful look flitting across her face. “I mean, you weren’t attacked, I didn’t get a good look at the girl, and you don’t even know her name. The police couldn’t do anything.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, thinking how risky being questioned would be when I wouldn’t be able to answer routine questions about myself.
“Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve never seen you so scared. Not even when you got that threatening note—” She broke off with a choked cry. “The stalker! Could it be the redhead?”
“I think so,” I admitted as I turned on the sink faucet, feeling oddly comforted by the rushing sound of water as I washed my hands. “She must go to our college. Are you positive you didn’t recognize her?”
“It was too quick and dark.” Sadie ripped off a paper towel and handed it to me.
“Thanks.” I wiped my hands. “I won’t forget what she looks like and I’ll be careful not to let her trap me again. I can’t believe she followed us all the way here. I don’t even know who she is.”
“Well, she obviously knows you. Probably the girlfriend of some guy you hit on—it wouldn’t be the first time you pissed off some chick.” Sadie giggled. “Like when you were sucking face with Bryanna’s fiancé at her engagement party.”
“Can we not talk about my past? I’d rather get out of here and far away from that psycho girl. And I could really use your phone.”
“I understand.” She handed the phone over, then held my arm gently as she led me out of the restroom.
It was surreal how ordinary the gas station’s food mart seemed after my short moments of hell. People walked up and down the aisles, absorbed in choosing candy bars and other trivial items. I spotted Warren over by the hot-food area, squirting mustard on a corndog. He arched his brows in curiosity when Sadie called out that we were going to wait by the car.
When I stepped outside, I tensed and looked around for red hair. Logically, I knew the psycho girl wouldn’t be dumb enough to wait around. She was probably miles away by now. But if she was obsessed enough to follow me hundreds of miles, she wouldn’t give up that easily. She could still be lurking in one of the many parked cars—waiting for another chance to get me alone.
“She’s gone,” Sadie assured me, guessing my thoughts. She opened the back car door for me. “Talking to James will make you feel better. I’ll get us some burgers—no onions, with cheese, right?”
“Uh, fine. Thanks,” I told her. Of course I had no intention of calling James.
With the door shut, the outside noises of cars and trucks faded to calming silence. Lifting the phone, I rejoiced to have a signal.
“Eli, it’s me,” I said as soon as I heard his voice.
“Amber!” Relief, fear, shock merged in this one word.
I found myself smiling despite everything. “It’s great to hear my real name.”
“Why didn’t you call sooner? I’ve been freaking worried. Where are you?”
“A gas station outside of L.A. I couldn’t call until now because we were driving through hills and I couldn’t get a signal.”
“So what’s been happening?”
“Insanity!” I shook my head wearily. “Remember that stalker I told you about? She trapped me in a bathroom.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Sadie startled her and she ran off. I still have no idea who she is.” I sagged against the car seat. “How can I protect myself when I don’t know why she hates me?”
“It’s not you she hates,” Eli said angrily. “I love my sister but she’s the one who has enemies. Just get out of there and come home.”
“I’ll get it for you,” he promised.
“Is that bi … Katelyn still helping you?”
“Yeah, Katelyn’s been great. She’s talking to the resident manager, trying to get a key to Shari’s room.”
I scowled. “That’s so sweet of her.”
“She’s totally cool,” Eli said, totally not getting my sarcasm. “I found out why she hates you … I mean, Sharayah.”
“Let me guess—because of some guy?”
“How’d you know?”
“I’m getting to know your sister … too well.”
“Unfortunately, I know what you mean.” His voice ached with misery. “Sharayah has changed so much, in all the wrong ways. When Katelyn was talking about her, it was like she was describing a stranger. Katelyn and Shari got along at first—until Katelyn went out with this guy and he only wanted to talk about my sister. Katelyn was disappointed but thought it was only fair to let Shari know this guy liked her. Only instead of being grateful, my sister flipped out, swearing and shouting at Katelyn.”
“Why?” I asked, surprised.
“I have no idea—and neither does Katelyn. They haven’t spoken since then.”
An idea struck me. “What if the guy was Gabe? We know they were going out, but they must have broken up because Rayah isn’t dating him anymore.”
“Except the guy Katelyn went out with was named Caleb.”
I frowned, confusion mounting as I added Who is Caleb? to the mental list of questions I would ask the GEM.
Eli seemed to guess what I was thinking because he reassured me he’d keep trying to get the GEM. “If I can’t get someone into the room legally, I’ll pick the lock—I think I can do it thanks to tips from your friend Dustin.”
“You talked with him? Great! I was going to suggest that before Mauve grabbed the phone out of my hands.”
Dead Girl Dancing Page 6
