Something Real (25 page)

“So. After you went
loco
, the shit really hit the fan. I mean, it was like Armageddon in there.”

“Don’t look so upset about it,” I mutter.

Lex gives me her fake sweet smile and turns back to the mirror. Despite being twins, Benny and Lex couldn’t be more different.

“So, Mom and Dad and Kirk were going at it in a major way. Dad was all, ‘You never let me see them,’ and Mom’s like, ‘Well, it’s hard to get in touch with someone who never answers their phone.’ Then—and this was priceless, it’s so too bad you missed it—Kirk and Dad got in this old-guy fistfight.”

“What?”

God
, how am I gonna show my face at school on Monday?

“Right? It was crazy.”

“Did they, like, hurt each other?”

“No. I mean, it was lame, but Dad literally walked over to the turkey, picked it up, and threw it on the ground!”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah. And I’m there being all, ‘Mom, make them stop,’ and Benny’s sitting at the table with his head in his hands talking about cantaloupes, and the kids are screaming. I heard Chuck say they didn’t even go to commercial, it was so good.”

“What the hell is wrong with them?” I say this louder than I intend to and immediately look at the door.

“Don’t worry,” she says, noticing my glance. “Mom and Kirk are doing Black Friday book signings all day. Mom’s gonna make a killing.”

The steam is suffocating, but Lex glows in this totally obnoxious, goddesslike way.

“What about Dad?”

“Gone. He stormed out. Said he loved us and to call him if we wanted to come to Florida.”

Even Lex isn’t a good enough actress to hide the disappointment in her voice. She busies herself with her makeup bag, like choosing the right eyeliner is the most important thing in the world.

“If he really loved us, he would have stayed.” My voice is hard, bitter. “He got himself back on TV, and now he’s famous again. That’s all he cares about.”

Lex sighs. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” she says. “Maybe Mom really did keep him from us. She was pretty hurt about … you know.” The affair. The divorce. The end of the show. End of the world.

I’m so sick of it. My whole life feels like it’s in a slingshot, and I’m just waiting for whoever’s in control to let go. Once, just once, I want to be the one pulling back the rubber band.

“Lex, this is so messed up. Aren’t you worried about what people at school are gonna say?”

Lexie™ takes the towel off her head and sprays her long locks with detangler, half of which ends up in my eyes and mouth.

“I look at it this way,” she says, running a comb through her commercial-worthy tresses. “It can only help me—I mean, people get famous for losing their fat asses or eating worms. As long as I play my cards right, I can make it on my own as soon as we graduate.”

I give her what I hope is a withering look. “Lex. Spielberg’s not interested in how well you fight with your family on camera.”

“Look, Bonnie™. I know you have this whole anti vibe going and, whatever, that’s fine. But I love the camera.
I love it
. So you can be a hater, but at the end of the day, this is what we’ve got. And I’m going to make the most of it.”

I stand up and push past her and out the door. “I need to eat … or something.”

“Fine. Do what you always do when someone wants to talk about something uncomfortable. God forbid you actually have to
deal
with your problems.”

I look back at her. “Fuck you.”

She raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Right back atcha.”

I really want to hit her, and I probably would if we were a few years younger. Now I just growl and slam the door. She opens it back up.

“It must be nice,” she snaps.

I turn around. “What?”

“Being the only one Dad really cares about.”

“That’s not—”

“Watch last night’s episode if you don’t believe me. See the way he looks at you and tell me he gives a damn about the rest of us.”

She slams the door hard, leaving me alone in the cold hallway. Adrenaline surges through me, and I think about barging back in there to tell her off, except the look on her face stops me. This wasn’t Lexie™ being her usual dramatic self. She really believes Dad loves me more.

Which is totally ridiculous.

When I get back to my room, Benny is on my computer. He immediately closes the window of the web page he’s on, but I catch it before it disappears.

“So what does celeb.com have to say about me this time?”

“They liked your dress.”

I roll my eyes and plop back down on the bed. “Lex was in the bathroom.”

“Uh, yeah. I heard the tail end of
that
conversation.”

“I don’t get why she said that. About Dad loving me more.”

Benny crosses his arms and leans back in the chair. His hair’s all mussed up, and his eyes are still heavy with sleep. “I don’t think Dad loves any of us very much. Not anymore. But you’ve always been his favorite.”

I open my mouth to disagree, but he just raises an eyebrow. “Whatever.”

“So…” He gets up and sits at the end of the bed, giving me one of those soul-searching Benny looks. “You wanna talk about last night?”

I narrow my eyes. “Did Mom tell you to keep an eye on me?”

“Don’t be a brat,” he says.

I dig the heels of my hands into my eye sockets and take a long, ragged breath.

“I don’t want to talk about it. But I’m sorry for not trusting your motives.”

He pats my foot. “Mom and Kirk are out—Lex told you?”

I nod. “I need to find a way to get to Patrick’s tonight.” I peek out my window, looking past the high security fence. “The Vultures are still out there.”

“Matt and I have a plan, but you’re not gonna like it.”

When he tells me what we have to do, I groan. “This is so not gonna work.”

“Let’s just try, okay? The most important thing is that Matt and Patrick don’t get caught.”

“Yeah.” I know exactly what he means—I would never want to bring this craziness into Patrick’s life. He’s already in deep enough, but at least no one is blogging about him or camping outside his home.

I bring my laptop over to the bed. Patrick’s online, which is good because I can’t talk about this on my MetaReel phone.

YoSoyChloe:
Morning.

Sheldon1015:
I have my sword, but I have no idea where my trusty steed went. Are you letting down your hair?

Benny reads over my shoulder. “You guys are weird.”

YoSoyChloe:
Benny says we’re weird.

Sheldon1015:
Weird is the new cool.

“Touché,” Benny says.

YoSoyChloe:
So. We have a plan.

Sheldon1015:
I hope it involves your green wig and blue sunglasses.

YoSoyChloe:
Worse. It involves the mall.

Sheldon1015:
On Black Friday? I love how certifiably insane you are.

YoSoyChloe:
Sore subject.

Sheldon1015:
Is Ben still reading over your shoulder?

YoSoyChloe:
No

Sheldon1015:
I love everything about you. Is that a sore subject?

YoSoyChloe:
Um. Blushing. A lot.

Sheldon1015:
So, the mall, huh?

*   *   *

“Okay, ready?”

I look in my rearview mirror. Three SUVs and two motorcycles. “Benny, this is not going to work.”

“It will. Just run as soon as I stop the car.”

“People are going to recognize us, they’ll—”

“Listen. You, Patrick, possibly on or in his bed. Are you going to give that up over a few Vultures?”

He’s right. That
would
be certifiable. Benny doesn’t wait for my answer. He swings into a spot, and we’re out of the car. I hear the lock chirp behind me as we run into Macy’s, cameras in our faces, people looking. I want to cry so bad, but a surge of adrenaline courses through me as we make our way through the store and then I sort of want to laugh because it’s a little bit thrilling, outrunning the paparazzi. I hear voices as we fly through the shoe department.

“Wait! Is that…?”

“Where?”

“By the mannequin.”

Click.
Camera phones.
Click.

I ignore the voices, the stares. Benny squeezes my hand as we split up. He’s off to menswear, where Matt is picking him up at the back entrance. I’m going into the mall, but not too far in. Patrick’s friend, Derrick, works at Hot Topic, and he’s going to get us out through an employee hallway. I don’t know if anyone has seen me yet—the mall is packed, and it smells like pretzels and sugar and new things. They’re already piping in Christmas music—it’s the most wonderful time of the year.
Go, go, shit, go.

I walk fast, keep my eyes to the ground. As soon as I pass the Disney store, I see the oversized lava lamp, and I duck inside, practically knocking Patrick over.

“Hey, you,” he says. He puts a protective arm around my shoulder and guides me past various goth-inspired paraphernalia to the back of the store and behind a velvet curtain labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY.

We made it. Well, past stage one, anyway. Patrick pulls me against him, and his lips find mine in the half light. For a minute, I forget I’m a fugitive because everything’s turning to jelly, and it is so hot to be kissing someone in an off-limits place when people are after you. It’s like we landed in an action movie.

“How’d it go in Macy’s?” he asks.

I’m shivering almost uncontrollably from fear and this crazy intense
want
that’s attacking my muscles. I nod, trying to catch my breath. “Could have been worse, but they got tons of pictures.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I considered myself a pacifist until we got together,” he says. “Now I have a mental hit list that includes all paparazzi, everywhere.”

I smile and just hug him tighter. Then I let him go and pull my phone out to text Benny. I laugh and show Patrick the picture Benny just texted me back of him in Matt’s car, the two of them grinning wildly.

Just then the curtain parts and Derrick slips in. “Hey, Chloe,” he says.

He’s wearing a vintage Star Wars T-shirt and a hat that says COLLEGE. His nails are painted black, but I won’t hold that against him.

“Hey. I really appreciate this,” I say.

He grins. “S’nothing. Most exciting part of my day. I just spent the past fifteen minutes trying to explain to a mom why
Harry Potter
is not going to turn her kid into a Satanist.”

I shrug. “I don’t know, that sounds pretty exciting to me.”

I’ve always wanted a part-time job. I know that’s what privileged kids who are bored say, but I can’t imagine that level of independence. I guess I’ve worked for MetaReel most of my life, but I’ve never seen a paycheck with my name on it. I’d take a wage slave job over reality TV stardom any day.

Patrick claps Derrick on the back. “You got it?”

“Yep.” He hands Patrick a plastic card. “Just go through that door and follow the hall to the end. It’ll let you out in the Dumpster area. You said you parked your car behind the cleaners, right?”

Patrick nods.

“Cool. Shouldn’t take you more than four minutes, then.”

“Excellent. I owe you one,” Patrick says.

Derrick shrugs. “I like to see you happy, man. Later, Chloe.”

“Bye.”

He goes back out through the curtain, and Patrick grabs my hand. “Freaked?”