6. Elodie

ELODIE

M y small apartment above the garage is the cleanest I’ve ever seen it. My clothes are all put away, the bed is made, everything is organized, and the surfaces are all dust-free. I’m not sure who did it, but I’m not mad about it.

“Hey, bestie,” Nina says, busting through the door as if she owns the place. She’s my opposite in a lot of ways with brown, wavy hair, tan skin, and killer curves. “I’ve only got a few minutes before my shift starts but”—Nina takes one look at me and breaks out into laughter—“oh wow, red is not your color.”

“Thanks a lot.” I self-consciously touch the red wig Rachel insisted I wear for this trip so no one would think I’m Stella. She also insisted I wear a pair of ugly, thick-framed glasses. It’s the worst disguise I’ve ever seen since it’s so bad it’s abnormal. But Rachel threatened to fly me commercial and not in the private plane that Stella owns. I laughed and said that private planes are scary and that more celebs die on them than commercial. I made that fact up, but it didn’t stop Rachel from letting out a long-suffering sigh as she stared at the ceiling yet again. She does it so much, I’m thinking I should add a funny picture to the ceiling of every room I’m in to give her something to look at when she does it. Maybe I could carry one around with some tape to spontaneously add it when needed.

“How are you?” Nina asks, sitting on my bed.

“Oh, no. You go first. Tell me what I missed.” I open the closet and scan my clothes, needing to decide what to bring with me.

“Nothing. Greg is still shit in bed. Other than that? I’m boring. It’s just been work and more work. For such a small town, you’d think the hotel wouldn’t get much action. But it’s been nonstop. So, let me live vicariously through you instead. How was your date with Hunter?”

“Funny, then weird, then good.”

“Explain.”

“Well, it started with a memorial service for my old phone and ended with him asking to fake date me.” I glance at Nina who looks more confused than anything. “And then I agreed?”

“That’s…not what I thought you’d say.”

“I know, trust me, I wasn’t expecting it either. But just know fake dating him is necessary, and I don’t really have a choice in the matter. It’ll be fine though; he seems friendly.”

“Friendly, hmm? Perhaps also with a side of benefits and you can finally lose your V-card.”

“I’m not a virgin.” I glare at her, unzipping a suitcase I’m borrowing from Mom.

“You might as well be.” She laughs at whatever look is on my face. “It’s a rule. If you haven’t had sex in more than six years, you’re revirginized.”

“Should I be worried that you’re keeping tabs?”

“Well, someone should. I do think you should enter your whore era while you’re Stella. Or at the minimum live it up to the max.”

“And ruin Stella’s reputation? No way. I can’t do that. She’s super kind and caring. And let’s not forget that the paparazzi follow her every move.”

“Well, thank fuck for the paparazzi. It’s like I’m with you, following your comings and goings because of them. I don’t even need a presentation from you; Google has made it for you.”

I shake my head and laugh. Leave it to Nina to appreciate something like that.

“I don’t know what I should bring,” I say, spinning in a slow circle, surveying my limited belongings. It’s not like I’ve ever had extra money to buy anything not needed.

“I’d suggest leaving most of the stuff here and buying new things. But underwear could be helpful until you buy new. Unless you decide to go commando, and if so, I fully support freeing the vag.”

“You should make a shirt that says that.”

“Who says I haven’t already done it?”

I wouldn’t put it past her. She loves to sew and make clothes. It started as a way to make our thrifted clothes cooler, but she’s really good at it.

“Maybe I should wear it while walking around as Stella,” I say with a grin. “It could jump-start your career.”

“Don’t you dare. You need to focus on not getting caught.”

“True. But I wouldn’t mind wearing something of yours.”

Nina brushes off my comment, even though I was serious. “You ready for this?”

“Totally,” I lie. “Can you do me a favor and check in on Mom regularly?” When I went to college, she rarely messaged, wanting me to have fun and enjoy my time there. Then, a year in, she got into the accident, and everything changed. I moved back home to help her, and a week later, we found out Dad was cheating on her. Had been for months, and she had no idea.

“Of course.” Nina checks her phone. “I’ve got to run to make my shift at the hotel. But I demand a regular update from you.”

“No problem, and I’ll find a way to fly you out and come visit me. ”

“I’d love that.” Nina stands and pulls me into a hug. “Don’t forget me.”

“That’s impossible.” I hug her harder. We’ve been inseparable since we were five and this is the first time I’m going to be away from her for any length of time. “It’s only for like four months.”

“But a lot can change in that time.”

“Not us.”

Nina pulls away and grins. “Just know, if you ditch me, I’m going to stalk your ass.”

“Deal.” I laugh.

Once Nina leaves, I pack the essentials as quickly as possible. Thanks to Rachel, I already have some new clothes from when the stylists arrived, but I don’t want to spend any of the money I’m earning on something so frivolous, especially when fancy outfits aren’t going to do me any good when it all ends.

The suitcase is only half full when I finish, and that’s just depressing. I bring it into Mom’s house since I still have a few hours before the car will pick me up.

“Mom?” I yell when I enter. “I’m home.”

“In the living room,” she calls.

I head there and am shocked to see a nurse helping her stretch. Mom’s never wanted to do it, even though it’s supposed to help with the pain. The nurse is wearing light blue scrubs, with her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. I’m not sure when Rachel organized for someone to come, but I’m grateful she followed through .

“We’ll continue later,” the nurse says, helping Mom into her ergonomic chair, before coming to me and sticking her hand out. “Hi, I’m Lilly.”

“Elodie.” I take her hand and shake it. “Thanks for helping my mom.”

“No problem. Rose is a dream patient. I’ll give you two some privacy.”

Once she leaves, I ask Mom, “How is Lilly, really?”

“Amazing.” She doesn’t elaborate, but the strain that normally brackets her mouth is gone. She looks relaxed for the first time in years. “Come here and give me a hug.”

I do as she asks, and Mom laughs. “What’s this awful thing on your head?”

I pull away and grin, touching my hair. “A wig.”

“And why are you wearing it?”

“So…I have something to tell you.”

“Are you dating a guy from the mafia?” she asks with far too much excitement.

“What? No! We’ve already established that I’m not doing anything with the mafia.”

“Shame. But if it’s not mafia, then who’s your employer? Someone like Lilly isn’t cheap.”

“I’m pretending to be Stella Wilde while she recovers from surgery.” I speak so fast it sounds like one long word. Then, I proceed to tell her the whole story. Mom’s eyebrows rise higher and higher the more I talk. Even though I signed an NDA, I can’t lie to my mom. She’s the most trustworthy person I know, and I know she’ll easily keep my secret.

When I finish catching her up, she asks, “Honey, are you sure you’re doing the right thing here?”

“Why do you say that?”

“It doesn’t sound legal. Sure, there are contracts and everything, but if this comes out, you’re the one who’s going to suffer. Not Stella or her manager.”

“They said it was all okay,” I insist. “And it’ll be fine. I’m getting paid every day I act like Stella. I’m securing our future by doing this.”

“I wish you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” I hold her hands. “But Dad’s not here, and I don’t mind doing this for us.”

“Are you sure about this? Because you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. We can find another way.”

I look into Mom’s eyes, and I feel my resolve crumble with every second she gives me her mom stare. The one that says tell me everything and talk to me . I don’t know what kind of superpowers she has, but I find myself opening up, even if I don’t like unloading it all on her.

“I want to do this,” I say. “It’s exciting, but at the same time, I’m scared shitless that I won’t be able to cut it. I’m about to start some bootcamp to learn all the songs and dances and cues for the tour. Stella sings like forty songs a night, and I don’t know how I’ll be able to manage doing that multiple nights in a row without losing my voice. I’ve also never tried to sing and dance for longer than one song. I’m totally going to be breathless and embarrass myself. And yeah, I like to run, but I feel like I won’t be able to keep up with the pace of the show. There’s also no time to build up my stamina, not when my first performance is in a couple weeks. And what if I make a mistake? Everyone will talk about it and make fun of me and oh my God what if I’m turned into a meme? But like in a bad way and not the funny way.”

I’m breathing heavily by the time I finish, and Mom pulls me into her arms and hugs me hard. It’s the type of hug that’s meant to ground me, soothe me, and hold my pieces together. The type where her strength makes all my worries lessen, just because she’s here, next to me.

“You’ve brought up a lot of valid concerns,” she says, kissing my forehead. “But out of all the people in the world, I know you can do this.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Easy. I love you and have faith in you.”

“Is it really so simple?”

“Why not?”

Why not indeed? Maybe I need to start believing in myself the way Mom and Nina believe in me.

“What do you want out of this?” Mom asks.

“Money,” I say quickly. Medical bills without insurance are a nightmare, and my student loan debt is growing instead of reducing because of the high interest rate. I only went for a year, but that was enough to screw up my entire life.

“I understand, but I think you should have another goal with this entire thing besides money.”

“Like what?” I ask, confused.

“Like finding yourself and what you want out of life. I know the last few years have been a struggle, but this is your chance to not have to worry about any of that. Think about it—what do you want to do when this is all done and over with? Sure, you’ll have money, but then what? What do you want to do with the money?”

“I don’t know? I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Maybe use this opportunity to find out?”

“Sure,” I agree just to placate her. I don’t know how to figure that out when I’m going from working all the time here to another job where I’ll have to do the same thing, but a thousand times more grueling. It’s not like I’ll have any downtime available to enjoy Stella’s life and figure my shit out. “Do you want to eat takeout and watch Grey’s Anatomy before I have to leave?”

“That sounds perfect.”

We get through two episodes before Stella messages.

S: The contracts are all ready for Hunter and you to sign. It’s in your inbox.

Me: Okay, I’ll sign when I leave my mom’s.

S: Also, the first movie event is in two weeks in LA.

Me: Okay, I’ll tell Hunter about it.

S: He sent you something.

She sends a picture of a peanut butter pie with a chocolate coating on it. She also sends a photo of the note that was included. It says: There’s something about the way your smile lit up when you talked about peanut butter and chocolate that made me want to see it again. Here's your happiness in a box. Would love to see your reaction when you taste it… XO Hunter.

S: That man is sweet.

Me: Is he? Or does he have a food fetish?

S: Can’t it be both? I’ll video you eating it and you can send it to him.

Me: Let’s do that first thing when I get back and before Rachel forces me into the bootcamp.

S: I’ll have it all ready for you .

Before I’m ready, I’m saying goodbye to Mom and flying back to Stella’s penthouse. When I enter, Stella immediately takes me to the kitchen and to the gorgeous pie on the counter.

I laugh. “I think I’m going to make two videos. One where I eat it aggressively and glare at the camera. I’ll send that one to him first.”

“And the second?” Stella asks.

“Exaggerated and sexual.”

She grins. “You and Aria would get along so well.”

“Who’s Aria?” I ask.

“Aria Huntington? My best friend. You’ll eventually need to meet her and be seen with her. We go out regularly.”

Oh shit. Aria Huntington, billionaire socialite, is Stella’s best friend? Where Stella’s all sweetheart, Aria has a reputation of being the cool girl.

“Anyway.” Stella grins. “You ready to film this?”

I nod and she videos me stabbing my piece with a fork and eating it with a glare. Stella giggles in the background, but I send it without redoing it.

Jeggings: I don’t know why that’s hot, but it is. I’ll be jacking off to that later.

Me: Interesting. I’m not sure what that says about your sexual preferences.

Jeggings: It says that anything related to you turns me on.

“Oh, he’s good,” Stella says, reading the message over my shoulder.

Jeggings: Did it taste good?

I send him the sexual video.

Jeggings: That’s it. I’m coming over. I need to see this in person. I’ll book my flight now.

Me: Or not. We can see each other in two weeks. That’s Jax’s first movie event in LA.

Jeggings: Fine. Way to ruin a man’s dream. I’ll be counting down the days until I see you again.

I’m grinning like a fool when Rachel comes to the kitchen and frowns when she sees the pie. “Did you eat that?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason,” she says, but her smile tells a different story.

“Why do I have a feeling I’m going to be throwing up the pie when I’m done with this bootcamp?”

“Because you will be.” Rachel smiles wider.

I glare at Stella in accusation, and she says, “It won’t be that bad. You look athletic. You’ll be fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. The mirrored walls of her penthouse studio quickly become my own funhouse of misery. The choreography that seemed simple at first is anything but. Stella is known to be fun and interactive while she performs, and I’m not sure if even my background in theater is going to get me to her level in such a short time.

Stella apparently trains by running while singing her set list. I made it halfway through before throwing up.

Each morning, my voice feels like sandpaper scraping against raw flesh. Vocal lessons on top of singing the entire set list while running on a treadmill only to be followed by throwing up halfway through has abused my poor throat. Running is something I used to love, but now I hate it. Not when I know it’ll just end with me running for the nearest garbage can.

Rachel, the choreographer, the vocal coach… Not on e of them cares that I’m dying every day. They just push me harder, until I pass out. Even then, I still have to continue according to Rachel.

I stumble down the hallway after yet another brutal training. I’m late to my daily imitation session with Stella, aka the only time I get a break. It’s when I learn to walk and talk like her and practice how to handle interviews. The first promotional event for Jax’s movie is soon and he’s the most dangerous person to be around while pretending to be Stella. He’s known her for years and I can’t lose my Stella mask around him.

Panting, I lean heavily on the wall. My vision swarms during my next step. And the next, until my world tilts and I collapse to the hardwood floor with a thud.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Stella rushes to my side, kneeling beside me.

“Just thought the floor needed a hug,” I rasp out.

She ignores my joke and places her hand on my head. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Training.”

“What the fuck are they doing to you?” she whispers.

“How do you do it?” I ask, tears leaking down my cheeks. All the doubt that’s been my constant companion breaks through to the surface. “How do you manage? Because I don’t think I can do it, not like this.”

“Whatever’s going on, I’m going to put an end to it. I’ll talk to Rachel.” She grips my arm and helps me to my feet. “Let’s get you to bed, and I’ll call a doctor to come check you out. I’ll fix it. I promise.”

“Sure,” I say, not really believing her. Rachel is part of her team, and I’m just temporary. Of course, she’s going to respect Rachel’s methodology.

Once I collapse into bed, and Stella disappears, I check my phone. This simple act is the only thing getting me through my days. All because of Hunter’s messages. Sometimes he sends me a meme, sometimes a picture of him sweaty and looking hot after a day at training camp, sometimes it’s just a thinking-about-you kind of text. They’re what I think about when I’m dying on the treadmill or when I’m being yelled at for messing up the choreography.

It’s the one bright spot of my day, and it’s still weird he’s writing me so often when what’s between us is fake. I asked him about it, and he said we need to get to know each other to sell the ruse. But Stella’s been such a public figure for so long, I’m terrified I’ll reveal something that’ll tip him off that I’m not her.

Jeggings: I think Huskies might not be the best dog for you.

Me: That’s random, why not? They’re adorable .

Hunter sends me a video of a Husky howling and being overly dramatic for no reason.

Me: I never knew Huskies could make that kind of sound.

Jeggings: Me neither. How are you?

Me: Fine. You?

Jeggings: Well, I’m killing it at training camp. But that’s to be expected, of course. Tell me more about you. What’s going on in your life?

I like his message and then stuff my phone under the pillow. It’s not like I can tell him that I’m struggling. He can’t know what’s going on or else it’ll just lead to questions, ones I can’t answer.

At the end of the day, this is what I signed up for. This is what I’m getting paid for. I have to suck it up and bear it, even if I’m dying a little inside every day when I pass out due to overexertion. Even if I’m starting to regret ever agreeing to this thing.