Pretending to Be Us

by Taylor Holloway

  My heart thumped. I knew exactly where I wanted Princess Lucy. Under me. Immediately. With her hands bound above her head and her long, gorgeous legs bent up so her knees were on her shoulders and her blue eyes could see nothing but me while I drove into her. I blinked into the vivid, unstoppable fantasy. What the hell was going on? I saw pretty faces all day long. Why was this one any different? Belatedly, I reminded myself to be professional as Lucy and I went to the center of the room to do the scene. She looked familiar. But I knew there was no way I could know her. I’d never met a princess in my life. Unless you counted Oprah, which you probably should.

  “Let’s have you run the scene atop the bar,” Vanessa was explaining to Lucy. It was the same scene we’d been running with every actress all day. The female character, Eva, was a new cocktail waitress at Will’s bar (I was Will, obviously). She would argue with me, climb onto the bar to change the channel, and then fall into my arms. The fighting was more flirty banter than anything. It was a cute scene and I’d been catching and almost kissing cute girls all day. I was pretty good at it by now. But out of nowhere, as Lucy stepped up onto the stepladder we were using as a prop, I felt like I was the one auditioning.

  “Do you need the script?” Vanessa asked Lucy. She shook her head.

  She’d memorized the scene already? Well, I guess she had had the whole plane ride from Europe.

  “Hi, I’m Peter,” I said, shaking her hand and feeling weirdly entranced.

  She blinked down at me. “I know who you are.”

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Vanessa said.

  Oh, right. I had the first line.

  “No one under sixty watches C-Span,” I announced, infusing my voice with the cocky arrogance of the character. “Still too uptight to act your age, huh Eva?”

  “I can turn on Sesame Street for you if we’re talking relative maturity levels here,” she replied, smirking at me like she knew me. She had no problem nailing pushy, opinionated, or prim. “Or is that too advanced? Would you maybe prefer Teletubbies?” Her smirk turned into a little pout and I stared at her lip hungrily.

  The character of Eva was naïve but sexy, snobby but sweet, over-educated but genuine, and secretly in love with Will. It wasn’t exactly the easiest role to play, but somehow, I felt a chemistry with the princess. Maybe her natural, inborn snobbery was ideal for the role. Or maybe she was just so fucking sexy she could read the phone book and I’d eat it up like a fool. Either way, my answering smile was genuine.

  “I prefer football, but I appreciate you indulging me,” I replied. “In return, I’ll turn on Matlock for you at five. You probably like to fall asleep to it right after dinner.”

  Her big sapphire blue eyes rolled back in her head dramatically and she pretended to fiddle with the nonexistent TV. I fought the urge to stare at her round, perfect peach of an ass, and failed. “Better too mature than too immature,” she told me. She really nailed the American accent. I was so distracted I failed to notice that her pantomime had reached the correct fake channel. I missed my next line. She went with it, clearing her throat primly to get my attention. “And no, Will, I’m not going to indulge your caveman impulses to watch football,” she added. It was obvious she knew I’d been staring at her rear end. “Here we go. Watch this. It’s the United States poet laureate ceremony. It’ll be good for you. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

  "You didn’t always mind indulging my caveman impulses,” I told her suggestively. I couldn’t see or hear anyone else in the room. Just her. Somehow, in a room full of people, we were alone. Maybe I just wished we were alone. “In fact,” I continued, “I seem to remember you being perfectly willing and eager a few years back at a certain very drunken costume party... isn’t that right, Tinkerbell?”

  Her eyes went wide and her blush at a fake memory looked perfectly genuine. Her eyes got even wider, so a slim ring of white was visible all the way around the blue. She stared into my eyes for a long, tense moment. Then she faltered, swayed, gasped, and fell from the stepladder as naturally as if it were real. I caught her easily, supporting her weight in a basket lift as easily as a feather. Her hands grasped at my biceps and I could feel the frantic thumps of her beating heart. No, that was mine. The princess smelled faintly of coconuts.

  Our positions were now reversed, and I looked down at her speechlessly, fighting the real urge to kiss her and feeling like I knew her. I had to know her. I’d always known her. How else could this feel so real? Were we still acting? I wasn’t.

  “I really don’t think you belong here.” I said my line, and it was real. A girl like her didn’t belong in the cesspool of Hollywood. We were all liars, charlatans, manipulators, and cheats. She was obviously too good for this.

  “Don’t tell me where I belong,” she replied haughtily. “I don’t need your permission.”

  The scene was over, but we kept staring at each other for a long, long moment. She was so close. So warm and soft. So damn pretty. And that look in her eyes? I wanted more of it.

  “Well, will you look at that,” Vanessa said into the stunned, appreciative silence of the room. We both looked up to see my dad and Emma nodding in agreement. “I want to run a couple more scenes, but I think we’ve finally found our girl.”

  2

  Lucy

  “Should I, like, bow in your presence?” Peter Prince asked me as Darcy had her important meeting with the director, writer, and distributor. “Did I break some kind of royal protocol by touching you and will now be executed by the Swedish royal guard?”

  We’d been banished to the hallway together as they deliberated over my unlikely performance. I stared at him tensely and he looked back at me curiously. Inside, when I had a scene to run, I felt calm and in control. Now I just felt like a phony. He’d just been holding me in his arms. The last time someone had held me like that had been... God, it had been a long time. Longer than I wanted to admit, even to myself. I wasn’t sure if any of this was real or if hunger had me hallucinating.

  His question finally permeated my stupor and I almost laughed.

  “Oh, no.” I shook my head, fighting a smile. “That’s not...” I trailed off. “Please just treat me like a normal person. In fact, forget about the princess thing entirely.”

  “Not a chance. It’s not every day I meet a princess.”

  I swallowed. “It’s not every day I meet a prince, either.”

  He grinned. “Am I famous in Sweden?”

  “I’m fairly certain you’re famous everywhere,” I stuttered. I’d never in a thousand years thought I would end up meeting Peter-fucking-Prince tonight.

  He shrugged it off like it was nothing.

  “You’re still talking with your American accent. It’s very good,” he remarked. “It sounds like you were born here.”

  “I was,” I blurted. Then I remembered myself. “I grew up all over,” I told him, feeling beyond flustered. This was all Darcy’s harebrained scheme, and honestly, I’d only gone along with it for the money. I never in a billion years thought they’d like me. Or the fictional Swedish princess Lucia. “Besides,” I continued, trying not to display just how out of my comfort zone I actually was, “everyone in northern Europe speaks fluent English and American media is everywhere. It’s easy to pick up the accent.”

  Both statements were at least half true. I had lived all over the continental US as a kid, and Swedes were typically very well educated. Lying to Peter’s face felt terrible, even worse than lying to the group, but I didn’t know how long I was supposed to keep up this act. He would never talk to me if I was the real me though, so maybe I should milk this experience as a fake princess for all it was worth. “It’s Americans who think the world revolves around them,” I added, trying to channel some European sophistication.

  He nodded and smirked at me. “Spoken like a true European. You’re probably right about that, but only because it’s one hundred percent true.”

  “Spoken like a true American.”

  “Guilty as charg
ed and proud of it.” His face was so classically handsome that he looked like he’d been carved out of marble, and now that I’d been pressed up against his chest, I could say for certain that the abs and pecs I saw in movies were not CG. I reminded myself I was supposed to be an aloof, European princess. An ice princess. Ice princesses don’t gape at hot guys like goobers. I put on a ‘serene royal’ face and his smile broadened like it was exactly what he expected. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised a real-life princess would be able to do an accent, huh?” He looked like he was trying to figure me out. “Don’t be worried,” he added, correctly reading my face but not my concerns. “You’re going to get the part. You’re the only good audition we’ve had in weeks.”

  I bit my lip. “You actually thought I was good in there?”

  He blinked and then laughed, cocking his head to the side. “Of course. Don’t you?”

  “Maybe. I really want this job.” I shouldn’t tell him the truth, but I couldn’t seem to resist.

  “Why would a princess want to be an actress?” he asked. He was teasing me. I frowned at him.

  “Why would a billionaire’s kid want to be an actor?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Touché.”

  “I didn’t expect this,” I heard myself saying. I wanted to be honest with the movie star in front of me. “I didn’t expect to come this close. Darcy wanted me to audition tonight, but I thought it was a long shot.”

  “You came an awfully long way for a long shot, Princess.” He was continuing to look at me sideways.

  I shrugged my shoulders. About an hour’s drive through rush hour traffic. It’s not like I came from Stockholm. Now that I didn’t have lines to recite, being Princess Lucia was a lot more challenging. “Please just call me Lucy, uh, Mr. Prince. I’m a big fan by the way.” I cringed at his surprised expression. “What?” I squealed, knowing my cheeks were probably burning. “Princesses watch movies. We’re humans you know. We can even be starstruck.”

  I wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer. I was going to shove my foot so far down my throat it would come out the back end.

  He laughed. “Sure, Princess, I’ll call you Lucy. But only if you promise never to call me Mr. Prince ever again, okay? It's Peter. Just Peter. I’ll treat you like a normal person, but only if you do the same.”

  He extended a hand to me and I shook it delicately. My hand was dwarfed by his and I liked the way it looked a bit too much. “Okay Peter,” I stammered. “We can give that a try.”

  “I feel like I must have met you somewhere, Lucy,” he said. His voice had become velvety soft and low. “I know that sounds bizarre, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  My pulse rate doubled, and my knees went weak. He remembered me? How could he? We were just children...

  Darcy flew into the room, interrupting whatever he was going to say next.

  “Come on, Princess,” she said, smiling thinly and thrusting a stapled document at me. “Congratulations are in order and we need to chat.”

  I caught the document and waved over my shoulder at Peter as she all but dragged me away. Now I was more confused than ever. Why did Darcy look angry?

  “See you soon, Lucy!” Peter said to me. “I’m looking forward to working with you.” I blinked at him in disbelief. I’d gotten it?!

  “What’s going on?” I finally yelped at Darcy when we were out of earshot. The document she’d given me was entitled “Contract.” It had to be a joke. A mean, cruel one, knowing Darcy.

  “What the hell did you do in there?!” Darcy hissed back at me. Before I knew it, we were in the car on the way back to Daniel’s apartment. I was still reeling from the revelation that Peter Prince, THE Peter Prince, undisputed king of action stars, had just caught me in his arms and stared at me like I was his one true love. I mean, I knew it was just acting but... damn. He sure knew how to charm a girl into a good performance by sheer charisma alone. And then what he said in the hallway? Be still my lying, cheating, stealing heart.

  And he almost recognized me. But why would he? How could he? The last time we saw each other we were ten and six at a Dallas community theater production of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. He’d been playing Prince Charming. I’d been a dwarf. Dopey. I had no lines since I spent most of the play pretending to be mentally deficient, but he still made a huge impression on me. Even as a kid I knew it was odd that a famous guy’s son was slumming it with the locals. Even as a kid he’d been way out of my league.

  “Are you listening to me?” Darcy snapped. “This is a disaster. What the fuck was that?”

  I blinked at her in disbelief. Darcy was so angry she looked like she might explode. I may have been a princess in that audition, but it was clearly time to come back to Earth. I was no longer in control. That didn’t mean I had to take Darcy’s shit though. Not after Peter had almost kissed me.

  “An audition is what that was. I auditioned,” I stuttered. I could still hardly believe it was true. “I pretended to be a princess pretending to be an actress pretending to be a reluctant barmaid. Just like we talked about. You owe me two grand by the way. We agreed.”

  The deal was that I would show up to the audition pretending to be a princess, do my scene, and leave. Weird? Yes. But I was desperate enough to do it. I didn’t know how the princess shtick would help Darcy or why she wanted me to do it, but I did it. And somehow... it worked. I was still confused about that part. I was confused in general. Peter Prince had looked at me like he was in love with me. I might have lost ten IQ points just from that look alone, but I’d happily do it again, and again, and again. I’d end up as Dopey permanently, but it would be worth it.

  Darcy was oblivious to my inner turmoil, but she looked confused too. Well, mostly furious but also somewhat confused. “You weren’t supposed to actually get the job!” She stared at me like I’d just committed a war crime.

  I was clearly two steps behind. “But--”

  She shook her head dismissively. Her dark ringlets flew out angrily. They looked like Medusa’s snakes. “Jesus Fucking Christ,” she swore, “I thought you would crash and burn. I never thought in a million years you might not suck. Wallace Prince has a hard on for royalty and somehow everyone thinks you’re some kind of genius,” she fumed. “Too bad it’s all a lie.”

  “Thanks,” I said sarcastically.

  “Well, at least you can’t possibly think you can keep this up,” she said.

  I frowned at her. “Huh? Keep what up?”

  “Princess Lucia,” Darcy stared at me like I was a moron. I wished she would watch the road instead. “You can’t show up to work on Monday, can you?” Darcy said, barking out a hysterical little laugh. “I mean, look at you. Listen to you. Nobody is ever going to buy that ridiculous princess act for very long.”

  I swallowed. She was right, of course. “Look,” I told her, “it doesn’t matter. I never expected this to happen either, but we agreed on the details upfront. I did what I said I would do. Now it’s your turn. Pay up.”

  Darcy brought the vehicle to a screeching halt. We rocked forward and then back in a painful lurch. We were still several blocks from Daniel’s.

  “Get. Out.” She ordered.

  I gaped at her. “No way. We had a deal.” It was dark outside. And raining.

  “And you violated it!” she shrieked. “You were supposed to suck so bad they would...” she trailed off into a noise like a smoke detector. “Just get out! Get out of my car before I call the police!”

  The police? I looked outside at the rain. “No way, Darcy. We had a deal. You owe me my money and a ride home. I did everything you asked. It’s not my fault they liked me.”

  I needed that money. I desperately needed that money. I needed it so badly I was willing to go along with her insane plan. I dressed up in Darcy’s Dolce and Gabbana dress, carried her Prada purse, and pretended to be a freakin' princess in front of a bunch of famous people. If I was being honest, it was a huge rush. The adrenaline was still making me brav
e. But I never thought it would work.

  “You owe me my money,” I repeated. I was still so confused. How was this audition not a total success? They liked me! Well, they liked Princess Lucia, anyway. It was too bad she wasn’t real. Still, it was enough to continue to fuel me with confidence even though I was starving and broke.

  “I don’t owe you anything,” Darcy replied. Her voice dripped with disdain. “You were supposed to fail. Get out of my car. And don’t you dare show up Monday...” Her face, which had been flushed, went suddenly white. Her voice dropped half an octave and I swallowed. She looked like she might actually murder me. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll disappear forever and never show your face in this industry again. If you don’t, believe me, I’ll ruin you.” She flung a couple of bills across the seat at me.

  I was still trying to understand what exactly I’d done wrong. I’d done everything she asked. Then she shrieked at me like a banshee and I gave up trying to understand. I wasn’t going to be screamed at by a crazy person. Obviously, she wasn’t going to pay me. That meant there was no reason to stay here one second more. I was livid but I opened the door, more willing to accept the rain and the walk back to the apartment in high heels than another second of her baffling verbal abuse. This was all a terrible idea. I should have known it would be. Nothing good can ever come from an elaborate lie.

  “Eat shit, Darcy,” I heard myself saying. “I’m taking this money and your purse, your dress, these heels, and what’s left of my fucking dignity away from your threatening bullshit right now. I don’t answer to you and I never will."

  Darcy started moving the car before I was all the way out of it. I tripped and fell into a puddle as she peeled off, getting drenched in the process.

  “Have a nice life, Princess,” she called as she drove off.