Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
As roommates, we didn’t know each other well—that much is probably obvious—but there is an intimacy to sharing a space with someone, a certain kind of kinship that comes with daily proximity. Anna was reasonably tidy and paid her half of the rent when it was due, but she’d never struck me as the organized, driven, premed type. The one time we talked about it, she said something about medicine being the most palatable of the “real job” options, but she seemed overwhelmed a lot, studying late into the night and painting to decompress in what little free time she had. That she ultimately switched her major to fine art makes a certain amount of sense, but I want to punch myself for not realizing she wasn’t studying medicine at all anymore.
Especially after everything I’ve told my family to keep them out of my business. I haven’t quite wrapped my head around how this will work—how this messy, stoned, unemployed wreck of a woman will fit into the glossy stories I’ve carefully manicured over the past several years, but here I am. I’m committed. And I suppose the sooner she agrees to this, the sooner we can get started on all the work we have ahead of us.
“Anna?” I prompt.
Slowly, she turns her face back to me, blinking into focus. “Sorry. This was a lot to absorb.”
“I’m sure.”
“Indonesia?”
I nod. “The wedding will be on a small island called Pulau Jingga.”
Anna squints at me. “You said ‘small,’ but I think you meant ‘private.’ Your sister is getting married on a private island, isn’t she?”
“Yes.” I work to not let my gaze do another sweep of her apartment. I’ve never been to Pulau Jingga, but my mom has been sending me info that I’ve mostly ignored for months. I know the basic idea—a luxury resort and conservation area set in the Indonesian archipelago—and it’s about as far from this dark, cramped living room as I can imagine. Right now, I need Anna to believe she can do this. Yes, she may be at rock bottom, but I need her to think she is just one fairy godmother moment away from sliding gracefully into the world she’s imagining.
“Who will be there?” she asks, her voice a little wobbly.
“My family. You know Jake, of course. Family friends. Some of my sister Charlotte’s friends. Her fiancé’s family. Some business partners of my father’s. Some press.”
“Press?”
“Yes.”
“To cover…?”
“The wedding. And to write a profile on my father, I think. Just the standard Weston bullshit.”
She lifts her hands, making air quotes. “ ‘The Standard Weston Bullshit.’ ”
“Right.”
“So, lots of fancy people.”
I don’t sugarcoat it: “Very fancy people.”
Anna looks down at herself and I follow her attention to the front of her shirt, where a Froot Loop adheres to the cotton over her left breast. She plucks it off and pops it into her mouth. “Why not just find someone who can pretend to be me and who knows how to behave around societay?”
“Because my mother knows what you look like.”
She squints at me. “How? I’ve never even met her.”
I hesitate. “I’ve shared a few photos.”
Anna cocks her head. “Photos from when we were roommates? Did we ever take any together?”
“I have the one of you and Jake hiking the Hills in a frame in my living room. It looks enough like me from the back.” I pause, scratching my jaw. “And… I’ve had a few others digitally photoshopped.”
“That’s…” She whistles. “That’s weird, my dude.”
I blow out a breath. “It’s very weird. I concede that.”
“But I guess I’d do weird shit for a hundred mil, too.” She looks to the side, thinking. “Why can’t you hire a look-alike?”
“Five ten, pink hair, beauty mark, and oddball fashion sense? I seem to remember my mother saying something about your nose.”
Her hand moves to her face. “My nose?”
“That it’s small, upturned. She described it as ‘the nose Jenny Nelson wanted and didn’t get.’ She’d notice if it was someone else’s nose.”
“This sounds… I mean, that sounds crazy, West.”
“I know.” This isn’t only her rock bottom; it’s mine, too.
“In what universe am I your type?”
“You were present and willing. At the time, that’s all I required.”
She twirls a pretend mustache. “Ah, amour.”
“This isn’t about romance, Anna. I’m asking for a business arrangement.”
“A business arrangement where we’ll also have to canoodle to be convincing. This feels very Indecent Proposal.”
“I’m sure my family doesn’t expect me to be overly affectionate in public. It’s not really my style.”
She guffaws. “Really.”
“We’ll have to share a bungalow,” I say, ignoring her, “but I expect it will be large enough that we’ll have our own spaces when we’re alone.”
“When is all of this happening?”
“We’d have to leave on the first.”
A pause. “May first?” She slowly counts on her fingers. “That’s four days from now.”
“You’re unemployed and high before lunch,” I say carefully, fighting a laugh. “Can you squeeze this in?”