* * *
I spent the next week making appearances in Texas, Oklahoma, and New Mexico while Kari holed up at her house, writing and practicing songs. Maren came with me, and I noticed she never left her phone unattended. It stayed on her belt during the day, and she charged it in her hotel room at night. Once while we ate breakfast in the hotel, I pretended to be interested in upgrading my cell phone and came right out and asked her, "Can I see yours?”
She pressed her lips together in an unapologetic smile, as though she enjoyed telling me no. "I never let anyone see it. It has private information.”
So much for getting my father’s number from her.
I thought about him a lot when I was out on the road performing. Being up on stage made me feel close to him. Sometimes when I was alone staring out a hotel window, he would come to mind, and my hand would reflexively go to the sapphire necklace around my throat.
I would think about his decisions, how so many decisions, really, affect more than the people who make them. Dwelling on this might make me responsible, or paralyzed, I wasn't sure which.
Luckily I wasn’t alone very much. Some sort of assistant—either mine or people from whatever event I was doing—always seemed to hover around.
It was getting easier to play my role as Kari. I especially liked being gracious to all the staff I came in contact with: the tech people working on the sound systems and the spotlights, the ushers, the waiters, the hotel employees. I’d spent my life being one of the overlooked; I wanted to notice and thank them for their work now. And they were always so pleasantly surprised at how nice Kari Kingsley was.
Even when things went wrong that would have normally upset me—like when the sound system wasn't ready, thus causing one of my concerts to start twenty minutes late—I brushed it off. I didn't want to have a temper. That way no one could criticize my sister for being a prima donna.
Grant called every night while I was gone, which was always the highlight of my day. It wasn’t the thunderous applause I got after a song, or the throngs of people giddy to see me. It was relaxing in my hotel room and Grant's voice on my phone that made my skin tingle. He made a date for the first day I was home and kept running ideas past me.
"Skydiving?” he'd ask. "Bungee jumping? How about running with the bulls in Pamplona?”
I kept telling him it didn’t have to be anything elaborate. "Pizza and a DVD would be fine.”
I knew I couldn’t have a relationship with him. Too many obstacles stood in our way, not the least of which was that he thought I was my sister. But after that kiss at Kari's, I couldn't immediately break things off with him. That would make Kari look like some sort of trampy tease. And besides, I wanted to see Grant again. I craved it.
So I would allow myself to go on a date or two and then tell him it wasn’t working out between us. Sometimes that’s how things went. He probably wouldn't mind. The guy who'd never been turned down wouldn’t have a hard time finding the next trophy girlfriend to take my place. I just had to make sure I didn't let my feelings get involved. I had to keep myself aloof.
Grant told me to dress casually and wear tennis shoes for our date, but I had no idea what he was planning. I also had no idea what I'd tell Maren about my absence or how I could go out without an entourage coming with me. It became a sort of mental game—thinking of different ways to escape.
After we flew back to California, Maren and I stopped by Kari’s house. The art director had e-mailed mock-up covers for her new CD, and Maren wanted to get Kari’s opinion on them.
Kari answered the door with a splint across her nose and bruises around her eyes. I gaped at her, wondering who had beat her up. Maren nearly dropped the covers. "What happened to you? Are you okay?” she asked.
"Did you call the police?” I asked at nearly the same time.
"Oh, this—” Kari touched her nose gingerly. "I got my dose done like Alegia’s.”
We both stared at her. “You what?” I asked.
"Once the swellig goes dowd, it will loog great. Everyone is goig to love it.”
"Yeah, I already love it," I said, trying not to sound too horrified, "because it’s my nose."
"Right. It looged good on you so I dew it would coordidate with the rest of my face.”
I wanted to say, "You can't just copy my nose without my permission,” which of course was stupid. She already had, and we were trying to look alike, but still. My nose was one of the few things that was mine, not hers.
Maren gritted her teeth. "You were supposed to be working on your songs. You're supposed to be recording them.
We've already announced you're debuting two new songs in San Diego. The show's less than a month away.”
"I ca't regord lige this,” Kari said. "I'm recoverig from surgery. I’m swolled, bruised, and my voice sounds lige it's fleeing through my dasal passage.”
Maren let out an angry grunt, but she didn’t yell. She just said, "We’ll talk about your schedule tomorrow," and we left.
My Double Life Page 22
