“Excuse me, I’m so sorry to bother you, but aren’t you Casey Lee?” a young, petite blonde stammers then covers her mouth. Charlie quickly removes his hand from mine like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous. I never approach anyone. And I live in L.A.; well, you know how it is. I see people all the time, but you, I look up to you. I hope to have a career like yours one day.”
I smile, thinking she reminds me of Casey at that age. So pretty, so ambitious. She would’ve approached Mary Hart back then. I wouldn’t have had the balls.
“It’s okay, what’s your name?”
“Darlene, but I’m thinking of changing it.”
“Don’t,” I say too quickly and she gives me a confused look.
“Just stay true to who you are,” I say, thinking of the makeup artist, of Dean, of Fiona. Any of them would stab Casey in the back for a buck.
“That’s great advice, thank you. I just have to tell you, your interview with Ryan McKnight, oh my God, it had me in tears. And I think he’s a total douche bag to cheat on his wife like that. But I still bawled.”
We all laugh.
“Could I bother you for an autograph? I know, how lame of me to ask, right? You’re trying to enjoy your flight with your boyfriend and I’m interrupting.”
I don’t correct her but grab the pen and paper she’s thrust in front of me.
I decide Charlie can be my boyfriend, if only for this moment, while I sign the autograph. I’m already pretending to be someone I’m not. Why can’t I pretend that too?
CHAPTER 19
* * *
casey
“What about this?” Audrey steps out of the dressing room in a low-cut shimmering top and a pair of skintight Rock and Republic jeans.
I think of Sophie in the barely there miniskirt. Why do these young girls feel they need to show so much skin to feel pretty? Are women like me to blame? I’d never wanted to see myself as a role model, but it’s becoming harder to deny. “Let’s keep looking,” I say as I grab a shirt off the rack that will cover more of her. “Why don’t you try this top with these?” I say, handing her a looser pair of jeans.
“Okay,” she says as she disappears back behind the curtain and I start fingering through the sweaters neatly stacked on the table. Audrey’s date with Chris is tonight and I promised to help her find the perfect outfit. I may not change a diaper very well, but one thing I do excel at is shopping.
Audrey saunters back out and I can tell by the look on her face that we have a winner. It’s a long striped T-shirt paired with a belt, and it looks perfect with the jeans I picked. Skinny, but not painted on. I grab a short faux leather jacket I’d been eyeing earlier. “Try this with it. And maybe we could find you some black flats to tie the whole outfit together. I think Tory Burch has a new pair out.”
“Oh my God, Mom! It’s perfect!” she squeals and turns to hug me. “Since when did you get all fashionable? Did you ask Aunt Casey for advice or something?”
I poke her playfully. “Something like that.”
Audrey twirls around and I can’t help but smile. In a strange way, I’m slightly jealous. I struggle to think of the last time I’d been on a proper date. Probably when Charlie and I drove up the coast to have dinner, because I insisted we go somewhere where no one from work could see us. He’d picked me up and we’d driven to Santa Barbara, having dinner at an Italian restaurant off State Street. We’d talked for hours, only stopping when we realized we were the last patrons. He took my hand and led me back to the car, leaning me against the passenger-side door, kissing me there, passionately. I could still remember the faint taste of garlic, wondering if it was from him or me, and then letting myself go and enjoying the moment. But that was before everything changed between us. And now, I’ll probably live my whole life attempting to live up to the perfection of that date. Which is most likely why I’ve given up trying.
Bursting through the door an hour later, Audrey is still brimming with excitement. “I’m going to jump in the shower now so I have plenty of time to get ready.” Audrey drops the bags onto the table and starts up the stairs. “Will you help me straighten my hair later, Mom?”
“Of course,” I reply, excited that she wants me to be part of her special night. I was hoping she would, but didn’t want to push it. The one thing I’ve learned since being her mom is that having a teenager is a bit like dating a new guy; you can’t let them know how bad you want it.
She races past Sophie at the top of the stairs, who is standing sullen with her arms crossed. “Did you get me anything?” she asks. “Or was today all about Audrey?”
I shake the bag I’m holding. “Maybe. But you’ll need to wipe that look off your face.” I smile and pull out a pair of black sequined boots.
“Mom!” She runs over and grabs them out of my hands and starts pulling them on her feet. She looks up at me. “How did you know?”