Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(6)
I invite you to meet Ellen Grant: hermit, tomboy, make-believe artist.
I grabbed a T-shirt and some leggings, relieved to get out of my super fashionable Elodie ensemble. Sure, it looked amazing, but it was about as comfortable as a straitjacket. I enjoyed the reaction I got when I wore sexy clothes, but I also adored the comfort of going casual. If I had to choose, I wasn’t sure I could give that up, even if I got to be magically transformed into Elodie for real.
When I went back down to the kitchen, I made myself a cup of peppermint tea and sat at my computer to check my emails. Working from home was the best, but it was also the worst.
It was the best because I didn’t have to deal with people, and that was also the reason why it was the worst. Isolation became a self-perpetuating cycle. The more you had of it, the more you needed it, and the less equipped you were to deal with normal, everyday interactions that others took in stride. That was why I forced myself to keep my part-time job at the bookshop. I certainly didn’t need the money, but I needed to practice my people skills.
I ignored several nagging emails about things I wasn’t ready to deal with yet and opened one from my brother, Nick. He and my other brother, Cameron, were twins, but they were as opposite as you could get. Nick was happy, charming, and generally pleasant to be around, while Cameron was grumpy, mistrustful, and often rude. He was one of those people who liked to claim they were always honest, but that was just an excuse for being mean. Anyway, I didn’t get to see either of them often since they lived back in my hometown of Torquay.
[email protected] to [email protected]
Subject: A visit from your marvellous brother ;-)
Hey Ellen!
I hope you’re doing good :-) Dad’s been asking for you. He says you better visit us soon or he’ll come to London and drag you home himself. Speaking of visits, Cameron’s going to be in the city for work next month and he was wondering if he could stay in your spare room? Give him a call and let him know.
Say hello to Skittles and Rainbow for me!
Love,
Nick
I sighed when I finished reading the email. From the subject line, I had hoped he was going to tell me he was coming to visit. Obviously, the “marvellous” part was sarcastic. He knew just as much as I did what a cranky bastard Cameron could be. Unfortunately, I didn’t have it in me to refuse him. I did have a very nice spare bedroom and I rarely had visitors. I should put it to use, even if my guest was my lesser preferred brother.
I typed out a reply.
[email protected] to [email protected]
Subject: RE: A visit from your marvellous brother ;-)
Dearest Nick,
You know as well as I do that Cameron is far from marvellous, but alas, he is my brother, so I won’t leave him to sleep on the streets. You can tell him I said yes. I’m not in the mood for a phone call with King Grump.
Skittles and Rainbow say they miss you.
Ellen <3
P.S. How’s everything been with Cruella Deville?
Cruella was our secret nickname for my dad’s girlfriend, Shayla. She was originally from London, but they started dating last year after she moved to Torquay for work. We called her Cruella because she was a bit of an ice-queen. She also had a real fox fur coat she wore in the winter that gave me the heebie-jeebies.
It didn’t take long for Nick’s reply.
[email protected] to [email protected]
Subject: RE: RE: A visit from your marvellous brother ;-)
She’s been upping her game big-time. I popped over to the house last week to borrow Dad’s lawnmower and there were some suspicious noises coming from upstairs. At midday on a Tuesday no less! Definitely wants him to put a ring on it.
P.S. By suspicious noises I mean sex noises.
Lovely. Trust Nick to put me off my peppermint tea. I closed out my emails and started on some work I needed to get done, trying to put the image of my dad having sex out of my head.
The thought that I had to make up an excuse not to attend Suze’s fashion show hung heavy on my mind. Later on, I contemplated the screen of my phone as I whipped up some chicken and pasta for dinner. Chewing my lip, I picked it up and opened my messages to compose a text.
Elodie: Bad news. I have to work this weekend on a large project that’s due Monday. I’m not going to be able to see your show :-(
Suze: Noooo! Is there any way you can get out of it? The show doesn’t start until 7 pm, so you could still work during the day. Please, please, please. You’re my lucky charm, Elodie. I need you there. xxx.
Her reply made me feel bad, and guilt ate at me. I had to stop lying to her. Either Elodie needed to ghost her, or Ellen needed to come clean. The problem was, I was flattered she considered me her lucky charm. It was definitely a good feeling to be valued by someone like Suze, even if she didn’t know the truth.
I mulled things over for a second. Maybe I could go and simply avoid Julian Fairchild, beautiful specimen and thief of words. After a couple of minutes, I determined I had to go for Suze. Her friendship meant a lot to me, and yes, I was aware how messed up that was, but it was the truth.
Elodie: Let me see what I can do. I really don’t want to miss your show <3
Suze: YES! You’re the best. xxx.
The weekend rolled in too quickly. Before I knew it, I was donning my wig and contacts, squeezing myself into a forest green contour dress and slipping my feet into four-inch heels. They brought my measly five foot four up to an elegant five eight. I was short, but I wasn’t small or dainty in any way. I carried an extra fifteen pounds or so thanks to my sedentary lifestyle and love of sugar. Luckily, the fashion industry saw fit to invent Spanx, which allowed me to mould my shape into something akin to curvaceous.