The Stand-In(95)

Click. Click-click-click. We look up, startled. The flashes come through the window thanks to the photographer, Mikey, resplendent in his trench coat.

Sam swears under his breath but rallies lightning fast to slip into his part. He smiles at me, that same look he gave me at every gala and event, the practiced easy smile of a leading man. Enough of my Fangli training comes through that now I can at least stay seated instead of hiding under the table, but there’s no way I can look happy. Not right now.

Cheri comes over, scowling. “This dude again?” She stands in the window, arms akimbo and calls over her shoulder. “Out the back. Same as before.”

“Gracie, listen,” Sam says. “We need you to come back.”

We. Not him. Always for Fangli. I thought he wanted me, but the truth is bare in front of me. He admitted he tried hard to find me but it was to get me to be her double again. I can’t even be envious that she holds such a place in his heart. The bells on the door jangle and I abandon my scone to head for the back door. I glance behind me to see Sam and Cheri acting as if to prevent the photographer from following me.

“Sorry,” I say.

Then I’m out the door and alone in the alley.

Cheri’s is where this whole mess began. It’s fitting that it ends there.





Thirty-Six


I wander over to the fridge and open it to reveal a collection of condiments and no food. I don’t want to eat, anyway; I’m only looking for a way to distract myself.

It’s been three days since I saw Sam. True to her word to keep me informed, Anjali sent me Mikey’s photo from some stupid gossip rag, and the way it’s framed makes Sam appear in full bodyguard hero mode protecting Fangli. “Fangli’s hat looks familiar,” Anjali wrote.

It looks like I can be pulled back into being Fangli even when I try to avoid it. I tuck my hands behind my head. What would a moral Gracie have done in the first place? She would have said no to Fangli, even for the money. She would have squashed that little fame worm in her mind and told it we’d find our own way. Todd…I acted as best as I could have there, and I won’t blame myself for his actions.

Then what does a moral and slightly more daring Gracie do now? I look at my laptop, where despite Anjali’s nagging, Eppy has sat neglected for most of the week. That Gracie follows her dreams and listens to her gut.

The phone rings and my heart leaps before I remember I blocked Sam. It’s an unknown number but I have to answer. It might be a response to one of my job applications and I need one now, badly. I pick up.

“Hello?”

“Is this Gracie Reed?” The man’s voice is brisk.

“Yes.”

“This is Ken from the Xin Guang nursing home. I’m pleased to tell you we have a space open for Agatha Wu Reed. I know you’ve been on the list for a while.”

I have to stop myself from whipping the phone at the wall. Of course they do. A beep comes on the line and I glance at the screen.

Incoming call from ZZTV. I didn’t block them.

We pay well.

“We would need an immediate deposit to save the spot,” Ken says.

We pay well.

“How much?”

He tells me and my heart drops. I can pay it but there’s no way I can make the ongoing payments, and I can’t move Mom there only to take her back out again. “Is there a way I can pay in installments?” I ask.

“I’m sorry,” he says and he really does sound apologetic. “We offer premium care for our residents.”

I know they do, which is why I want Mom in there. “Can you give me some time?”

“We have a standard six-hour grace period before we go to the next person on the list.”

We pay well.

This time, I act the way I know I should.

The phone screen pulses one last time and ZZTV fades from it. Mom would kill me if I went into debt for this, and six hours isn’t long enough to get a loan. I should have thought of that earlier and guilt pulses through my blood but I let it fade. I’m only human and I’m doing my best.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the fees right now,” I say finally. “I’m going to have to pass.”

“I understand,” he says. “Would you like to be added back onto the wait list?”

“Please.”

We hang up and I lie back on the couch with the phone clutched against my chest. Rectitude. I roll the word around in my mind. I thought doing the right thing would make me feel good but instead I’m empty. I did the right thing—I said no to ZZTV—but who did I help? Not me. Not Mom. Maybe Fangli by not selling her secrets. Shouldn’t I have a deep satisfaction in doing the right thing?

I don’t, but as I lie there, quietly breathing, something happens. It’s not happiness, but it’s not guilt. There’s no shame. The decision I made was based on what I could do—me, not depending on anyone else or lying, not trying to ease someone else’s way at the expense of my own. It’s a small start, but it is a start.

Mom said I had integrity, and even if I don’t, I want to live up to her ideal. I couldn’t get her into that home this time, but I will and I’ll do it on my terms.

I pull my laptop close and start working.





Thirty-Seven