Famous by Association Page 3

  He wasn’t supposed to point that out. “Maybe not, but at least the online shopping app has pictures so I can browse and get what I want. How would I even know what I want if I don’t have pictures, Dave?”

  “Would you like me to make a list for you?”

  “That would be amazing.”

  He sniggered, making it easy to picture him clearly in my mind’s eye. “Is that why you called?”

  “What?” Even though he couldn’t see me, I made a face anyway—quirked top lip, furrowed brow, narrowed eyes. It was the quintessential expression when getting caught red-handed. “No…of course not.”

  “Then what else did you call for?”

  “To tell you…” I shook my head and resumed my position on my back. “Okay, fine. There was no other reason.”

  I knew he wouldn’t take offense to that, considering he oversaw the grocery orders at the apartment. If anything, he’d been expecting this call, which was proven when he said, “I’ll send you a list in a minute.”

  Apparently, we were quite co-dependent on one another. The jury was still out on whether that was healthy or destructive. Maybe in ten years when we’re nearing forty, we’ll figure that out. If we were still single and living together, well…I’d say that answer would be rather clear.

  Within five minutes of getting off the phone with Dave, my phone pinged with an email.

  “Ty!” I called for him, using the intercom button thingy like he’d told me to. “Ty!”

  I could practically smell his net worth before his figure appeared in the doorway. He released a loud huff and slowly rolled his eyes, probably more for dramatic effect, before crossing his arms. “Tasha, you don’t have to yell into the speaker.”

  “How am I supposed to know? It’s not like I have those in my place.” Pretending to be my sister was draining, so I had to find a bit of fun somewhere. That just happened to be at Ty’s expense. If he had a problem with it, then maybe he should’ve kept a few more people around the house. Really, he only had himself to blame.

  “What is it?”

  “I have a grocery list.” Knowing what he was about to say, I held up a finger and added, “Despite being identical twins, we are not carbon copies of each other. Meaning, I very much enjoy the taste of meat.”

  His phone chimed, letting him know that I had used AirDrop to send him something. As he read over my list, his eyes grew wider and wider. “Beer? Boxed macaroni and cheese?” He dropped his arm to his side and stared at me. Well, more like gawked. “Pizza Rolls?”

  “Why are you reading everything off as a question?”

  “You’re supposed to be Tiffany Lewis.”

  “No one’s here, Ty. Who’s going to go through the fridge and question it?”

  He nodded slowly while staring over my shoulder. It seemed he was coming around. “Fine, you have a point there, but what about your body? You’re already a size or two bigger than your sister, and you’ve firmly expressed that you will not be going to the gym.”

  “And? Weight is easy to explain. People put on a few pounds all the time—especially women. She’s not currently working, so all you have to say is that she’s been enjoying all the food she had to starve herself of while doing her modeling gigs. When Tiff comes back, it’ll just look like she paid someone to take all that weight and inject it into her lips.”

  He had to make a sincere effort not to laugh. “First of all, don’t ever use the word starve in any context. We don’t need to deal with rumors going around that Tiffany has an eating disorder.”

  I waited a beat, and when he didn’t say anything else, I added, “You know, you really shouldn’t use first of all if you don’t have a second point.”

  “Oh, I do.” He snapped his fingers, as if he’d forgotten what he was saying and just now remembered. “Secondly, if the added weight creates bad press, then you must help me deal with it.”

  “Ty, I’m a size six—sometimes eight depending on the brand. In what world would that create bad press? I have curves, not diabetes. What is wrong with you?”

  As if I’d slapped him across the face, his mouth opened and closed, shock rendering him speechless. Finally, he shook it off and took a small step back. “I apologize, Tasha. That wasn’t what I meant. I, in no way, believe that there is anything wrong with your body. I just know how ugly the media can be, and I’m simply trying to minimize that threat. We already have so much to deal with as it is without adding a few extra pounds.”

  I believed him. It was clear he meant what he said, which allowed me to relax a little. I was never bothered by my appearance—well, other than when I was compared to my sister—but it seemed I was now in a whole new world.

  “So can you get me those things or not?” I asked with my arms crossed, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

  “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll send someone out in a bit. But if I do, that means you must practice walking in those heels. No one will believe that you’re Tiffany Lewis if you can’t walk perfectly in pumps. She’s a runway model for Christ’s sake.”

  “I know, I know. Fine. I’ll practice.”

  “Good, and don’t forget, the hairdresser and makeup artist will be here in an hour. They’ve both signed the NDA, but they don’t know why. All you need to do is stay quiet; they’ve been instructed not to ask any questions. Got it?”

  I just had to breathe and remind myself of the money.

  All that money.

  2

  Jacoby

  “There’s been a lot of movement going on next door. Any idea what they’re doing over there?”

  I set down the glass of milk and stared at my sister while she peered through her kitchen window like a peeping Tom. “How would I know?” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand then slapped the table to get her attention. “More importantly, why would I care?”

  Jessa shrugged before taking my glass to the sink. “All the women in the neighborhood love you. I didn’t know if maybe one of them told you what was going on.”

  She was right. The women who lived around here were a little sweet on me, but that was because they were all much older—most were at least sixty, which was twice my age—and I helped them with their yardwork when they needed it. It wasn’t like we all sat around Old Doris’s kitchen table drinking coffee and spilling tea.

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t know anything.” I only knew who Jessa spoke of because Tiffany Lewis’s name was on everyone’s lips when she’d first moved in. Granted, I’d never heard of the woman before she bought the house next door, but from what I’d learned about her, I wasn’t much of a fan.

  “I heard she’s going to be on the next season of Bored Housewives, Santa Maria edition.”

  I leaned back in the chair and regarded my sister. I’d never been able to figure her out. It was impossible to tell if she was interested in something or not because she used the same tone, facial expression, and body language for things she was into as well as things she didn’t care about.

  “Is that really what the show’s called?” I asked, only slightly interested in the answer.

  “No, but it should be.” She dried the glass I’d used for my morning milk and put it in the cabinet. She’d been taking care of me since we were little. It seemed that was a trait she’d never grow out of.

  Just then, the doorbell rang. Jessa left the room, only to come back a minute later with a box in her arms. “Can you take this next door, please? The delivery guy was already in his truck by the time I got outside.”

  “Why don’t you do it? It’ll give you the perfect excuse to snoop.”

  She set the box on the table in front of me and rolled her eyes. “Because I have things to do, Jacoby. That’s why.”

  That wasn’t why, but she would never admit it.

  The truth was, we’d been through our fair share of issues growing up, and the last thing she wanted was to find her name back in the press. I didn’t blame her, though. I didn’t care to go through that all ov
er again, either.

  “Whatever, I’ll drop it off.”

  Tiffany had moved in next door about a month ago, and I had only seen her once. It was a…memorable experience, to say the least. Like today, my sister had received a package addressed to her and asked me to take it over. I’d noticed that she was in the back yard by the pool, so I thought it made more sense to hand it directly to her. Not to mention, it also gave me a good excuse to introduce myself.

  Big mistake.

  She took one look at me and immediately deemed me unworthy of walking on her grass. In my defense, I’d just gotten off work, so my sleeveless T-shirt was decorated with sweat stains and soil, as were my once-khaki shorts. I could see how she might’ve assumed I was a hobo, especially in this neighborhood, but that didn’t make her tongue lashing any easier to take. Regardless, she’d made it crystal clear that there were those who hired landscapers—her—and then there were those who were hired to do landscaping—me.

  I really didn’t want to take this package to her. For someone so gorgeous in pictures, she sure was hideous in person. I’d dealt with women like that since I was sixteen. It was something I didn’t care to ever have to deal with again.

  I took the box off the table and stood. “If I don’t come back, let it be known that I left here in fear for my life.”

  Jessa giggled and rolled her wrist, shooing me away with a quick wave of her hand.

  As I walked through the yard on my way next door, I noticed Tiffany sitting on a lounge chair by her pool. It was like a repeat of last time all over again. The flashbacks had me nearly hyperventilating. Although, there was something different about her this time. She stared straight ahead, not moving or uttering a word. From where I stood, I couldn’t tell if there was anyone in the doorway at the back of the house, and I didn’t really want to stop and find out.

  She was so vain that she was more than likely staring at her reflection.

  So, I continued to her front door, exactly what she’d told me I should’ve done last time. Technically, she didn’t tell me to do that—more like she implied it. At least, that’s what I took from her ridiculous ranting about being in her yard and something about bugs.

  I thought it would be pointless to ring the doorbell, considering I knew she was out back. Granted, there might’ve been someone else inside—or she might’ve been able to hear the chime from the patio—but I didn’t want to chance it. Just my luck, she’d make a scene about how I touched a part of her house and contaminated it with my dirty finger.

  At thirty-two, I was too old to deal with this.

  Yet here I was, scared of a rich snob.

  On my way back home, I thought I’d do my best to inform her about the package. It wouldn’t surprise me if she blamed me for something happening to it—she’d probably find a way to blame me for it being delivered to the wrong house to begin with. But when I approached the opened gate that led to her pool, I was briefly stunned by the sight.

  I wasn’t sure it was possible, but Tiffany looked even better than the last time I’d stopped by. In long black leggings, a loose white tank top, and her signature high heels—which I always thought were worn with dresses, not everything—she stood in front of the lounge chair. She swayed a bit, making me wonder if she’d already started drinking. Honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised me, especially since I assumed that she’d partaken in the dragon’s juice the last time I was here. But there was something about her that looked different—more than just the clothes.

  If I hung around any longer, she’d likely have me served with a restraining order, so I decided to get on with it and leave. “Hey, just letting you know that another package was—”

  That was all I was able to get out before she fell over.

  3

  Tasha

  I would never understand why women chose to wear heels.

  I’d spent the last three days practicing the art of walking in Tiff’s stilettos without breaking my neck. Well, I’d also spent that time memorizing the names of everyone in her social-climbing circle, being fitted for clothes that cost more than all my possessions combined, and getting spray tanned. Needless to say, I’d been Tiffany Lewis for less than a week, and I was already trying to find ways to convince the media that aliens had abducted her so I could quit.

  As I sat on the side of a lounge chair—which was more comfortable than my old couch—I stared at my reflection in the French doors that led into her massive house. Seriously, no one needed something that size. Anyway, I took in my appearance and held back the vomit that burned my esophagus.

  What I saw staring back at me was my worst nightmare come true.

  For the last ten years, I’d done everything I could to separate myself from my twin sister—at least physically. While she’d been over-processing her hair since we were teens, I’d kept mine its natural dirty-blond color. Now, my long locks were platinum with the texture about two steps above hay. Then there was the issue with my glasses. Sometime over the last decade, Tiff had gotten laser surgery to correct her vision, which meant I had to endure contacts the entire time I was here.

  I nearly poked an eye out this morning putting one in.

  Also, Tiff preferred the dramatic look of a smoky eye; meanwhile, my idea of putting on makeup consisted of colorless lip balm and moisturizer. In the end, the “glam squad” hired to tend to me had agreed to forego the contouring unless I left the house.

  Let’s just say I had zero plans of leaving the house until this was all over.

  I was well on my way to becoming Tiffany Lewis. All I needed now was the ability to walk ten steps in heels without stumbling…and a very large stick surgically implanted up my heinie. Oh, and I would need to perfect her sneer. No one would believe I was Tiff if I didn’t regard them with utter disgust.

  With a deep breath, I pushed against the lounge chair and steadied myself on my feet. My legs wobbled like Bambi, so I released the air I was holding in my lungs and relaxed. I only had to kiss the ground eleventeen times to learn that trick. However, it only seemed to work when I first stood; it didn’t help at all while actually walking.

  Just as I was about to take my first step, I was startled by someone standing twenty feet away in the back yard. Well, he wasn’t exactly in the yard—he stood next to the gate I’d left open. I had no idea what he said, because when I glanced in his direction and saw someone standing there, I jumped. In heels.

  One second, I was confidently standing in diamond-studded torture contraptions, and the next second, I was flat on my back. Okay, that was slightly exaggerated. I wasn’t anywhere close to being confident in these shoes.

  He shouted something unintelligible as he ran toward me. At least, I assumed he was on his way to me; I couldn’t see past the birds flying around my head. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Out of nowhere, the sun was eclipsed by the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. Dark-green eyes stared intently into mine as he leaned over me, his brow lined with five deep creases. I knew it was five because I counted them. It was the only thing I could do to keep myself from running my fingers through his light-brown hair. It looked so soft.

  “Are you okay?” he repeated. “Say something so I know you’re all right.”

  I closed my eyes to concentrate on his question; I couldn’t think straight while looking at him. While mentally assessing my body for any aches and pains, I discovered something frightening.

  I flashed my eyes wide open and practically choked on a panicked breath. “I can’t feel my legs! Oh my God, I’m paralyzed!”

  I tried to push up with my elbows, but using only one hand, he managed to keep me in place. Had I not been freaking out over the loss of feeling in the entire lower half of my body, I might’ve paid more attention to how sexy it was to be pinned to the ground by someone as gorgeous as him.

  “Don’t move. If you injured your spine, moving would only make it worse.” Then he proceeded to run his other hand up my shin and over my knee bef
ore gently gripping my thigh. “You can’t feel that?”

  I hummed. I might’ve also fluttered my eyes closed. Anyone witnessing this might’ve assumed that I hadn’t been touched by a straight man in quite some time—and they would’ve assumed correctly. Then again, I had no idea if this sinful sex god was straight; just my luck, he probably wasn’t.

  Where was Dave when I needed him? His gaydar never failed.

  Without waiting for an intelligible response, he moved to my other thigh. Though this time, he trailed his hand down my leg. I continued to hum the entire time, enjoying the warm tingles that spread through me at the feel of his touch. That was, until he made it to my ankle. He barely had his fingers wrapped around the obviously protruding bone when I opened my eyes, screamed, and pushed my upper body off the ground just enough to see my legs.

  It was not the sight I expected to find.

  There were no protruding bones—anywhere. Not only that, but I discovered that when he had startled me, I’d fallen backward over the lounge chair. I didn’t think I could feel my legs because they were on top of the chaise, not on the ground with the rest of my body. I was lucky I hadn’t rolled into the pool. Now that would’ve been embarrassing.

  Without asking permission, he removed the shoe from my foot and began to carefully roll my ankle in slow circles. The entire time, he kept his attention on my face, likely to assess my reaction since I couldn’t seem to vocalize my thoughts properly while in front of him. Humming and moaning didn’t exactly explain much.

  “How does that feel?”

  The heat from his palm on the soft arch of my foot sent warm tingles up my leg. “Amazing.”

  “It doesn’t hurt?” A hidden laugh vibrated through his question.

  Realizing what I’d said, I shook it off and cleared my throat. “I mean…it’s sore.”

  “Looks like you might’ve sprained it. Ice and ibuprofen should do the trick.” He sat up straighter and glanced at the house. “Are you alone, or is someone here with you?”