Pretending to Be Us

by Taylor Holloway

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you,” I told Lucy sarcastically. “It’s better this way. You’ll be able to look yourself in the eye tomorrow.”

  “That’s not fair,” she said. “You don’t have any idea who I am.” Something about her expression told me not to push her, but I couldn’t resist. Nobody likes to be used. My heart was still pounding in my chest and I couldn’t believe I was the one who just did the rejecting.

  “I don’t have to be fair,” I told her. “Nobody said anything about life being fair. I’m sure you’re used to the world giving you whatever you want, Princess, but maybe this will be good for you. This business isn’t fair.”

  “This wasn’t about business. This was just about sex. Just forget it.” She was angry now, too. For some reason I liked that better.

  I frowned. “I think for you it's both, and I don’t want to go there.”

  She looked at me over her shoulder.

  “I just wanted to get you out of my system. I won’t be able to do this movie if I’m...” she trailed off, staring at me like I was the only one who could fix her predicament.

  I frowned. This was not how I expected this day to go. I definitely never expected to be rejecting a ridiculously hot half-naked woman because she was offering me strings-free sex.

  “I've been used by too many conniving starlets to play this game ever again,” I told her. I wanted a beer and a ballgame. A distraction. Something that wasn’t her. Anything that wasn’t her. I knew exactly what I was going to dream about tonight, and I was already frustrated by it. Lucy was going to haunt my dreams for some time. “I can’t help you.”

  “You could, actually. You’re choosing not to.” With more dignity than I had on my best day, she pulled herself together. She stood up, straightened her hair back into a demure ponytail and turned to look at me. She looked frustrated, sad, and guilty. “See you tomorrow, Peter.”

  16

  Lucy

  I was horribly late getting to my mom’s house and the guilt only added to my bad mood. My Mormor was very sick. She was coughing a wet cough and complaining that she was dizzy. She was sick, my family was broke, and Peter didn't want to sleep with me. We packed up my Honda and headed to the ER. It was going to be a long, long night and I was supposed to be on set tomorrow at nine to pretend that I knew about sex.

  The ER told Mormor she probably needed antibiotics or Theraflu and left us sitting in the waiting room forever. They said it would take forty minutes, which usually meant that it would be at least four hours in my experience. We were in the midst of cold and flu season. That meant that anyone who wasn’t literally falling down or vomiting would just have to wait.

  The whole ride over, I couldn’t stop thinking about Peter. I guess I should have probably known that there was no way to have my cake and eat it too. You can’t be halfway honest with somebody and expect that to work out. I needed to learn to stay away from Peter. It would be better for everybody in the long run.

  “You seem distant,” my mom said to me as we waited in the ER.

  I frowned. “Sorry, mom. I’ve just had a long day.”

  I stared at the kids running around and the sick people sitting grumpily waiting for help, let the sound and smell of hospital soak into me, and found it weirdly comforting. I know that it sounds insane; most people hate hospitals, but I was used to them. After working at one for several years, it had grown on me.

  My mom patted my arm comfortingly. “You need to get a regular job. I heard they’re hiring waitresses at the diner on our block. I bet they would hire you.”

  I swallowed. They probably would. I just couldn’t be a waitress, or an admin assistant, or a cashier forever. Those might be the only jobs I was qualified for with my crappy GED, but that didn’t mean I wanted them.

  “Maybe if this doesn’t work out I will,” I told my mom.

  “Are you dating anybody?” she asked. “You’ve got that look.”

  My guilty look was all the confirmation she needed.

  “I’m not seeing anybody,” I said. “I met somebody I like, but It’s not going to work out.”

  My mom cocked her head to the side. “Why not?”

  Mormor was asleep or pretending to be asleep. She was such a busybody, even when she wasn’t at one hundred percent. I didn’t trust it. She was probably faking.

  “It just won’t,” I told my mom.

  Peter thought I was a princess. Actually, now he thought I was a crazy, manipulative princess who only wanted to sleep with him to keep her job because being fulltime royalty just wasn’t good enough. The truth, the thing I kept from him because it was too humiliating to admit, was even worse.

  I couldn’t admit to him that I was a virgin. I couldn’t admit that I was terrified that I couldn’t fake passion because I didn’t know the first thing about it. After going to my trailer and nearly having a panic attack, I’d charged in there to his to seduce him and lose my stupid v-card then and there. When called out on my out-of-character behavior, I tried to save my pride. I told him a half-truth that made me seem like a terrible person instead. Great job Lucy.

  And to add insult to injury, not only was I a virgin, but I’d barely ever even kissed a guy before Peter. I’d had a couple of short, slobbery intimate encounters in high school, but that was it. I liked to tell myself that I had high standards, and I did, but the truth was that the more time went on, the more I built up losing my virginity in my head. The more it got built up, the more I obsessed about it. The more I obsessed about it, the less likely I was to try and date a guy who didn’t feel like “the one.” Then I go and meet a guy I actually want to sleep with, and who clearly wants to sleep with me, and I go and blow it.

  My mom was still staring at me curiously. I must have been letting my face betray my emotions. “We’re working together,” I said, feeling like if I had to tell another lie the sky would come crashing down on me and kill me. At least I could tell the truth about this part. “He doesn’t want to get involved with me.”

  “Did you tell him that you like him?” my mom asked.

  I nodded. “I definitely gave it my best shot.” I wasn’t some kind of practiced seducer or anything, but I’d taken off my shirt and he seemed like he’d been into that. He’d been pretty enthusiastic right up until he...well, right up until he wasn’t. “I don’t think it’s meant to be,” I finished weakly.

  Mormor sat up and opened her eyes. She’d totally been faking it. I bet she wasn’t half as sick as she was pretending either. She made a face at me and I got ready for a good Mormor zinger. I knew that look.

  “You need to find a nice man,” she told me matter-of-factly. “By the time I was your age, I had a husband and a child. And that child? She was already seven!”

  I sighed. “Mormor, things are different now.” Mormor got married at sixteen. She lived in a totally different world. A simpler world. Things were much more complicated now.

  “Sure. Now you have Pokémon Go.”

  "What?” I asked through my giggle. Mormor knew about Pokémon Go? She relied on me and my mom to use the microwave.

  “Pokémon Go. It’s a game where kids catch fake animals with their phones. I saw about it on TV. Then once they’ve caught them, the children make their fake animals fight other fake animals. And some of the animals talk. It’s very sadistic if you think about it. They’re enslaving the poor Pokémon.”

  I wasn’t on her wavelength, but I was impressed. Maybe she was delirious from the fever? My mom and I exchanged a mystified glance. “What does that have to do with anything?” I finally asked.

  “Nothing, because besides technology, nothing’s changed since I was your age. Are you saying young women like being lonely now?” she asked. “Because I don’t believe you.”

  I winced. “There’s a difference between being lonely and being single.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not getting any younger. You know I’m old, right?”

  “Mormor, didn’t you argue today that you were
too young to get a flu shot?” I reminded her.

  She rolled her eyes at me. My mom stifled a laugh which earned her a scowl. “Don’t talk back to your elders, young lady.” Mormor giggled. “Besides, you aren’t getting any younger either.”

  “Gee thanks,” I told her. “Look, I’m going to go check with reception. See where we are on the waiting list.”

  “I’m feeling better, actually,” Mormor said. “Let’s go get some food instead. Isn’t there an IHOP close to here? I want to talk to you about this young man you like.”

  "No way, Mormor. I saw your thermometer. You need a doctor. Your temperature was 103.”

  “That’s because I stuck it in my tea to lure you here. You haven’t been around enough recently.” She shrugged. “Now, what’s his name?”

  Classic Mormor.

  17

  Peter

  Over the next few weeks a very good movie got made, but Lucy was closed off to me. She came in, did her job, and avoided the hell out of me other than that. My rejection must have hurt her, although she hid it well in public and refused to be in private with me. The sex scene somehow got moved to the last day of shooting, which was its own kind of torture, because any catharsis we might have gotten out of the forced proximity was put off. Instead, things just got more and more tense between us.

  I got the feeling that the genuine Lucy was being kept in careful reserve on set. I never got another glimpse at the real woman behind the carefully maintained façade. Every time she looked at me, I regretted rejecting her. Weeks went by and despite my calculated attempts to draw her out and actually talk to her, Lucy managed to skillfully avoid ever being alone with me.

  I shouldn’t have accused her of being a self-serving liar, which is pretty much exactly what I did when I played the conversation back in hindsight. Unsurprisingly, that had been a mood killer. And now, because I’d been a suspicious idiot, she didn’t trust me or want to be alone with me. I couldn’t say that I blamed her.

  I knew who to blame. Me. The real, mortifying, sad truth was that I’d been in Hollywood too long to really trust anybody. It wasn’t Lucy that was the problem, it was me. It was my inability to think anyone was genuine, and to assume that everybody had a hidden agenda, that fucked me over. Or prevented me from getting fucked, as the case may be.

  When Vanessa called cut on the second to last scene, and only one day of shooting remained, I knew I was running out of time. I followed Lucy back to her trailer and grew a fucking spine.

  “Hi Lucy, want to grab a drink tonight?” I asked her. I played it off as a casual request and not one that I’d been working up to for weeks. Thankfully, I’m an actor. It sounded totally real. All that practice in front of the mirror was really paying off.

  She blinked at me as if in disbelief. Her full lips were pouty. “Are you asking me out now?”

  “If I were, would you say yes?” I questioned.

  “Do you still think I’m just another conniving starlet?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry I said that.”

  She frowned. Something I didn’t know how to interpret danced behind her big blue eyes. “You told me it was a bad idea to date coworkers.”

  “Maybe I’m too dumb to take my own advice.”

  Her hands smoothed her hair back from her face as if of their own accord. She was never fidgety on camera. I’d thrown her off her guard. Now, all I needed to do was peel back the layers of her disguise and actually get her to open up to me.

  She stared at me. “You aren’t dumb. I’ve probably got too many ulterior motives to go out with you.”

  I winced. “I never should have accused you of that.”

  Her eyes searched mine. I felt like she could see straight into my soul with those eyes of hers. They weren’t a normal blue at all. People said my eyes were uncommonly vivid, but that was just because they’d never seen hers. After this movie she’d become a superstar. Then I would probably never have a shot with her.

  “Maybe you were right to,” she said eventually.

  I sighed. “Or maybe I was being a stupid jerk.” She continued to just stare at me, and I plunged forward. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry it’s taken me weeks to apologize, too. Let me make it up to you. Or at least let me try.”

  After a moment of something that maybe looked like indecision, she shook her head. “You were being a smart jerk. Listen, it’s a bad idea. You don’t want to be anywhere near me.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked her. “I honestly just want to know. Are you seeing someone else? Or do you just not want to go?”

  She bit her lip. “I do want to go. But I can’t.”

  “Because you’re a princess?”

  She rolled her eyes at me. Getting a rise out of her was about the only way I ever managed to get her to be honest with me. “I’m having dinner with my grandmother tonight,” she said finally.

  “Then tomorrow night.” Her lips parted. I saw the temptation in her features, and I seized on it. “I’ll take you to the movies. You can pick the film. Educate me on worthwhile cinema.”

  She giggled at me, but it didn’t last. “What if I pick a Chinese language documentary on ferns?”

  I tried to remember if I’d seen one of those come out lately. It didn’t ring any bells. She was probably joking. I hoped she was joking. “Can I at least hold your hand while we watch the ferns?”

  Her head bobbed up and down in a shy nod. “I guess that would be okay.”

  “In that case, I love Chinese movies about ferns.” I grinned at her. “So, will you go out with me?”

  She smiled a tiny little smile that made me feel weak in the knees. It was the first time she’d smiled at me, outside of on camera, in weeks. “I guess we could give it a try.”

  As I was leaving her trailer, Darcy stepped away from the door in surprise and pretended to be fiddling with her phone. I wondered if she’d been standing there listening. But I was in too good of a mood to worry about it.

  “Goodnight, Darcy,” I told her, waving cheerily. “See you tomorrow.”

  18

  Lucy

  “A production delay?” I asked Vanessa when I arrived on set the next afternoon to find work at a standstill. I'd been only set to shoot in the afternoon today, the infamous sex scene, but it looked like everyone had been there all day not doing much. People looked annoyed all over. Peter, who’d also just arrived and been milling around at craft services drifted closer to our conversation with a concerned look on his face. I tried to ignore the heart-pang when he approached.

  Luckily, maybe, I had a built-in distraction. Behind Vanessa, Darcy was smiling serenely. The expression looked out of place in the extreme. It made me nervous.

  Vanessa shook her head in apparent annoyance. “Sometime last night, our camera equipment suffered a catastrophic failure.”

  “Maybe I can fix it,” Daniel volunteered. “I’m pretty good with technology.”

  He was, too. Daniel had fixed my computer a dozen times. He was magic.

  Vanessa looked sad. “You can try, but unless you’ve got some time-travel based solution, we’ve already tried everything.”

  “What happened?” Peter asked.

  Vanessa shrugged. “We aren’t sure. Honestly it looks like they somehow got exposed to a really strong magnet. Because everything is digital, it’s toast. It’s a freak accident. We’re going to have to replace a lot of the equipment and it’s going to take a few days. So, we won’t be shooting today. We’ve been trying to figure out a solution all day, but I think at this point it’s time to give up.”

  I swallowed. If I didn’t work, I didn’t get paid. I needed to work. Daniel and I exchanged a look. He was in the same boat.

  Darcy. Fucking Darcy did this. I knew it.

  “This isn’t great timing. My dad is supposed to come by the set today,” Peter said, looking concerned for reasons of his own.

  “I’m here,” a voice answered before Vanessa could. Wallace Prince, a guy who was rivaled
only by Steve Jobs or Bill Gates, strode onto the set looking like he owned it. Because he did. He looked more than a little bit like Peter, which of course made sense, but I was usually never attracted to older men and it gave me a weird feeling. “What’s going on?”

  Vanessa patiently re-explained the situation and I stared directly at Darcy, who’d been haunting the set for weeks like a vengeful spirit. We locked eyes. She did it. I knew she did it. She knew that I knew she did it. But just like she couldn’t expose me, I couldn’t expose her. Not only did I not have any proof, but getting her in trouble would only give her no reason to go on protecting my real identity. If I needed her to stay quiet about my deception, I had to stay silent on her sabotage.

  “Well, worst case scenario all the equipment is insured,” Wallace pronounced at the end of Vanessa’s explanation. “Besides, it gives us a chance to get acquainted a bit better.” He grinned. “Let’s go have a late dinner.”

  “Dad. It’s twelve p.m.,” Peter said. “Don’t you think it’s a bit early for dinner.”

  “Of course not. It’ll take some time to get there. I want to take the plane out.”

  Plane?

  What was happening?

  “I can’t go,” Peter said. “Neither can Lucy. We’ve got a date.”

  Wallace raised his eyebrows and then smiled broadly. “Excellent. Now you can go on a date in France. It’ll be much more romantic.”

  We all looked around at one another. When the financier tells you that you’re going to have dinner in France, you go have dinner in France. Even in my experience as a mere production assistant, I could tell where this was going.

  Wallace turned to a harried looking guy who had to be his personal assistant. “Go get the plane ready, Elliot. I want to be in Provence before dark.”

  I blinked. Okay. This is really happening. Cool.