The Stand-In(91)

Even as I say the words, I want to grab them back. Sam’s face goes hard. “Is that what you think?”

“Forget it,” I mutter.

“How am I supposed to forget it?”

“I didn’t mean it.” Now that the flush of my anger is gone, I’m mortified. I was in the wrong to ask Sam. The nasty motivation that made me push him would be as obvious to even the worst Psych 101 student as it was to Sam. I wanted him to show me he cared by making him do what I wanted. I feel nauseous that I stooped so low. This is not cool. Not remotely cool.

Mom stirs and I glance over at her. “We can talk about this later. Are you staying?”

“I think I should leave.” He hesitates, then looks over my shoulder. Someone’s coming down the hall. Sam tilts his head down and jams on his hat, then leaves without saying another word.

“Gracie?” The brief rest has brought Mom some clarity. I walk over. Damn, I should have taken the photo album away while she was sleeping.

I’m so upset with what’s happened that my hands shake when I reach out to close the photo book. Mom’s hand lands with surprising strength on mine. “Tell Xiao He I kept my promise,” she says in English, looking at me. “I kept the past in the past and lived my future.”

“I will.” I soothe her with gentle pets on her hands. I don’t know who she thinks I am. “It’s time to relax now.”

It takes me about an hour to relax her enough to get the album away. I hold it in my hands, wondering if it would be better for me to take it home, when a sheet falls out, the edge jagged from where it’s been ripped out of a magazine. It’s a photo of Sam and Fangli, a publicity shot from one of their movies. I guess Mom took it because it reminded her of Xiao He. I can’t bring myself to deprive her of the memories, even if they cause her pain, and I put the album back in its drawer.

Finally I see residents walking by on their way to the morning coffee break. “It’s time for a cookie,” I tell Mom. “Let’s see if they have chocolate chip.”

She follows me like an obedient child, and after she’s had two cookies and a cup of tea, she seems to be back to her old self. “You’re a good girl to visit, but go back to work,” she says. “You are hired to do a job and shouldn’t disappoint them.” Her tone brooks no argument and I give in the same as I always did growing up.

Sam isn’t outside waiting for me and the taste of disappointment comes up hard and sour. I told him to leave. Why would he stick around after what I pulled? I was worried about Mom but it wasn’t the choice I should have made.

I blink back the tears as I turn the corner and head for the bus stop. It’s a long ride home, made even more depressing by the lack of texts from Sam. I take my phone out to check again and my finger hovers over his contact. I need to apologize.

He said I knew he would do what I asked. I want to ask him exactly what he meant.

On autopilot, I go from the bus to the subway, the subway to the hotel, the hotel to my room. I get a glass of water and sit down on the couch to decide my next and hopefully less disastrous step when the phone rings.

Sam or Anjali would text and the home is the only one who phones so I answer without checking who’s calling. “Hello?”

“Is this Gracie Reed?” It’s a woman.

“Yes.” I stare hard out the window at the lake without focusing. Definitely the home and please let Mom be okay.

“This is Miranda calling from ZZTV. We’d like a comment from you.”

ZZTV? My heart slams into my throat but I try to play it cool. “From me? About what?”

“We have a tip that you’re impersonating Wei Fangli and want to give you a chance to tell your side of the story. We pay well and it would play in your favor to get ahead of the story.”

I hang up without saying another word. Shit. How could they have found out? Who gave them the tip? Then I know. Todd, of course. Sam had only told me he took care of it, not what he did. I’d trusted Sam, through his lawyer, to take care of this but it’s becoming clear Todd is a Terminator—always coming back when I think he’s out of my life.

I put the glass of water carefully on the coffee table because my arm is shaking so hard I can’t control my hand.

The secret is out. I check online immediately and sag with relief when nothing comes up, then take a deep and shuddering breath before sitting on the couch and mentally running through my options, which are very few. Obviously the best one is to tell Sam and Fangli what’s going on and let them deal with it because I’m no PR shark to try to make deals with ZZTV. I’d make a bad situation worse.

I pick up my phone but hesitate, not wanting to commit the words to a screen. Maybe ZZTV is hacking my phone and that’s how they know. I put the device down on the table beside the water and eye it like a loaded gun before staring up at the ceiling. Could the room be bugged?

God, what about Mom? If they know who I am, they’ll go digging. What if they call the home and ask about her? I should call them. I stop again. For all that Glen Lake isn’t Xin Guang, I do trust them to keep their patients’ privacy. Plus, if my phone is hacked, I don’t want to give any clues. I don’t know if I’m being paranoid or realistic.

The luxury Xanadu suite feels like a cage, the walls closing in over my head. I jump off the couch and go out to the balcony, where I grip the rail so hard my knuckles go white. This is the exact situation Anjali warned me about. Now that it’s here in front of me, what do I do? That sensation of powerlessness binds me—the same feeling I felt going in to work for Todd, which makes sense because here he is ruining my life again.