Authors: Liz Fenton
Back at the office, I know there’s something else I have to do. I need to talk to Charlie about where we left things about where our relationship is going. I’ve been avoiding him since Santa Barbara. As I make my way to his office, I have the panicked thought again: What if we can’t switch back? I stop and lean against the wall and close my eyes. It’s all going to work out. I believe it’s all going to work out. I repeat it over and over until I convince myself.
“Knock-knock.” I tap my knuckles on Charlie’s office door. It’s not lost on me how tiny it is compared to mine. It’s so small his desk takes up almost the entire space. The windowless walls are white and bare. His desk is devoid of any photos. A worn gym bag haphazardly thrown in the corner is the only thing that gives you any idea about the type of man Charlie is. For a moment I’m struck by how lonely he must be. No family. Married to his job. Possibly craving a future with Casey but being shut down by her—again.
I was lucky finding the right person so young, having three great kids with him. Why have I taken it all for granted?
Charlie doesn’t look up from the email he’s typing and I don’t blame him. I haven’t given him the time of day since Santa Barbara, why should he give me his attention now?
Still typing away, he says in a voice I don’t recognize as his, “I heard you’re going.”
“And you too, right?”
Charlie laughs. “Oh, Ava didn’t tell you? I’m shocked. She’s such a stand-up gal.”
I lower myself into a black pleather chair. “What?”
“She has
other plans for me,
as she put it.”
My heart starts racing. “What do you mean?”
Charlie, still not looking up, clicks his mouse, his attention focused on something he’s reading on his computer screen. “Charlie, can you look at me please?” I plead.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Now you want me to look at you. Why don’t you just send me a list of instructions for when and how I can communicate with you and I’ll be sure to review it.” His cold eyes meet mine.
“Look, I’m sorry. I just, it’s so hard to explain, I wish I could.”
“Casey, I’m so tired of your excuses. For all your reasons why you can’t talk about things. I’m just exhausted by it all. It shouldn’t be this hard.” He exhales sharply. “And then I had to hear about it from Ava. Ava, of all people. You know how much I cannot stand that woman! You couldn’t even be bothered to tell me your decision to move before you told her? You didn’t even think about me, did you?”
“Charlie . . . I’m sorry. I really am. I promise you it’s complicated. And I don’t expect you to understand. I just wish you could trust me that I
do
care about you. And my decision to move, you’re right, I should’ve talked to you about it. But it was a choice that was so much bigger than me, than you, than us.”
“A choice about your big career?” It’s a question, not a statement. “How could I forget that it’s all about you?”
Looking at Charlie now, his eyes burning with anger, I wonder if I’ve screwed up Casey’s chances with him. Have I blown it or is he just upset? I should’ve talked to him before saying yes. I knew he needed that from Casey. I knew it and I didn’t do it, worried that if I said it out loud to him, then I’d back out. I had assumed he’d be going with me and I thought we’d work things out in New York. I had no idea Ava was going to screw
him out of the job. I shudder to think how expendable people were to her. If things didn’t go well in New York, would Casey be next?
“Why doesn’t Ava want you to be the executive producer? What did she say?”
“That they were going in a
new direction
. Best part? I’m out of a job. Her other plans for me include wrapping things up here at
Gossip TV
and letting me go because she knows she’s
holding me back
. It was like she was reading from some bullshit manual on how to give someone the ax.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I’ve worked for her for eight years. No loyalty. None.”
“What a bitch.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I wish I had known.”
Charlie laughs bitterly. “Why, so you could make a toast to that too?”
I flinch but speak up. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “I really am. I took for granted that you’d be going with me.”
“But did you want that?” he asks, his eyes now searching mine.
“I did,” I answer honestly. Whether Casey or I ended up in New York, we both needed someone like Charlie looking out for us. I feel tears sting my eyes when I think of being there without him, of being all alone and away from my family. That I’ll miss all of Charlotte’s milestones and Sophie’s next big performance. My resolve begins to crumple and I look away and wipe my eyes.
“Hey, don’t cry for me, Casey.” Charlie stands up. “I’ll be just fine.”
I know he’ll be just fine—but I won’t. What have I done?
I have to think fast—how do I do this? Before I know it, I
blurt out: “Will you come with me to John’s birthday party tonight?” I have to get the real Casey and Charlie into the same room. I know—absolutely—that this is the first step in fixing this mess.
Charlie eyes me suspiciously.
“I promise: No red carpet. No paparazzi. Only really good people that I love—and that I think you’ll love.”
“No bad cheese trays?”
Was he cracking a joke? A good sign.
The wheels in my head are spinning wildly. I’ve got to get them back together; I’ve got to figure out how we can switch back. “There will be no bad cheese trays,” I say aloud. “That is the one thing I can guarantee.”
“Then how can I say no?” Charlie says. I pray that I can get the woman he loves back into her own body before it’s too late.
CHAPTER 33
casey
“You are so not wearing that.” I shake my head as I catch Sophie slinking down the hall in a barely there green minidress. Then I realize, it’s practically a clone of the one I wore to last year’s People’s Choice Awards, a dress I also had no business wearing at my age. “Is that the same dress that . . .”
“Aunt Casey wore last year.
Yes!
” Sophie throws up her arms dramatically and lets out an exasperated sigh. I never realized the way I was dressing was affecting young girls like Sophie. I drop down into John’s favorite leather chair and rub my temple. What had I been doing? Somewhere along the way, I’d totally lost sight of who I was. I stare at Sophie, who looks so much older than her fourteen years. “Why do you treat me like I’m a baby?” she cries out as John walks by and does a double take.
“You are
not
wearing that tonight,” he says with finality. Sophie glances at me and I can tell she’s wrestling with wanting to
lash out and ruin John’s surprise. I stay silent but lock eyes with her and shake my head quickly.
My, how life had changed. I had never thrown a party for anyone else, unless you counted the time I kidnapped Rachel for a birthday trip to Las Vegas when we were still in college. And even that wasn’t really selfless; I had been begging her to go for weeks but she had insisted she had to study. So I took her against her will and plied her with kamikaze shots until she agreed it had been a great idea. Annoyed as I had been when I originally took over the planning for John’s party, I had to admit it really did feel good to do something special for someone else. I watch Sophie, holding my breath.
Sophie opens her mouth and sighs loudly. “Fine! I’ll just go put on one of your old dresses with shoulder pads or something to make you guys happy. Who cares what I want anyway, right?” She huffs out of the room.
“No one’s asking you to wear shoulder pads,” I call after her. “I’d be happy with anything that didn’t look like something a hooker would wear.” I look at John and roll my eyes, feeling a million miles away from the woman who wore the same thing less than a year ago.
“Or Aunt Casey,” she snaps, her door slamming behind her.
“It’s just a phase, right?” John asks.
“God willing,” I say, trying not to think about how much Sophie’s comment hurts. I push my head down into his chest to avoid the kiss I know he’s looking for and feel a renewed sense of urgency to get Rachel back into this body. I won’t be able to hold John off for much longer.
He leans down and whispers in my ear. “You know what I want for my birthday?”
“A new putter?” I ask hopefully before he whispers, his breath
hot on my ear, what he’d really like. My cheeks flush. I remember the ripped panties from the night I took what’s-his-name home. Was John wild like that too? I didn’t want to find out.
“Are you blushing?” he asks, his eyes full of amusement.
“No,” I stammer and pull away, backing into the wall.
“So, what do you think?” He reaches out for me again. “Can I get that for my birthday?”
Not if I want Rachel to speak to me ever again. Or if I ever want to be able to look you in the eye again.
“Sure,” I say and force a smile.
• • •
“You said what?” Rachel sounds ready to jump through the phone when I call her a few minutes later, hoping the water from John’s shower drowns out our conversation.
“What was I supposed to say?” I squeak, still shaken up over the visuals of what he lodged in my mind. “Seriously, Rachel, we’ve got to get this figured out.”
“I’m on it,” she says cryptically.
I hear the water turn off. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Wait, Case. Two things real quick. Your mom has emailed you several times this week, the last time threatening to fly out if you don’t respond. I’m sorry, I missed her monthly call. I was going to email her back, but I thought it might be better if you did.”
Rachel had always been slightly intimidated by Natalie Lee and I didn’t blame her. My mother was tough and no-nonsense, a stark contrast to Rachel’s mom, who was the Martha Stewart of her time, with homemade cookies waiting for us each day when we burst through the door from school. Their home had been just like her, warm and inviting, and I spent as much time there as I could. Rachel’s dad often joked that he had two
daughters. “Okay, I’ll email her,” I said. Not a lot of things got past my mother, and I couldn’t afford to have her snooping around. “What’s the other thing?”
“Promise you won’t be mad.”
“What?”
“Promise first.”
“Fine, I promise. Tell me, Rachel, you’re scaring me.”
“I’m bringing Charlie.”
Silence. “Rachel. Why?” I finally ask, my stomach dropping to my feet. The thought of him, dancing and flirting with Rachel while I played dutiful wife to John, made my heart hurt. To have him a few feet away would be torturous.
“Is there any way you can uninvite him?” I ask.
“It’s going to be fine,” she answers ambiguously.
“I’m not sure how that could possibly be the case,” I say while trying to wipe the visual of them doing the Macarena out of my head.
“Please, Case. Just trust me, okay?” she pleads quietly and I think about everything she’s given up for me since we switched.
“Okay,” I concede.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, I trust you,” I say quickly.
“No, I’m not just sorry for inviting Charlie. I’m sorry for everything.” She says this softly and I imagine her twirling her hair tightly onto her finger like she used to do whenever I was angry with her in high school.
“I’ll live. Just don’t make out in front of me. Then you may have a very awkward girl fight on your hands,” I say.
“Got it,” she says, relieved.
John walks into the room wearing a robe and I silently thank God. The other day, I had to sprint from the bedroom as he
began to pull his towel off. “I really gotta go,” I say before hanging up.
“Who was that?” John asks. “And who’s girl fighting?”
“It was Casey. She was just telling me some celebrity gossip,” I say as I slide off the bed and head to the office to check my email.
“Shouldn’t you start getting ready?” he calls out.
I run my hand over the glossy blow-dry I got this morning. “I just need to do my makeup and get dressed.” I glance at the clock. I’ve got forty-five minutes, which is all the time in the world now, but only a few weeks ago, it would’ve barely been enough time to get my makeup done. “Don’t worry, I’ll be beautiful,” I say playfully before shutting the door to the office and firing the computer to life.
I log into my
GossipTV
account and feel like a stranger as I glance at the hundreds of emails that have come in since Rachel’s been living my life. We had agreed that it would be better if she dealt with all of them, most of them being work related anyway, her BlackBerry vibrating day and night with scripts, rewrites, and updates on the latest celebrity bad behavior. I peruse the in-box for my mom’s email address, locating the guilt-inducing emails she sent. I quickly fire off a short response saying I’ve been insanely busy and will call her as soon as I come up for air. I’m about to shut down the computer when I see an email from Ava Greenwood, one of the network executives. The subject line says
Welcome to New York
. I click on it.
Dear Casey,
We are thrilled that you’ve decided to accept the New York job with the network! I have to admit, you had us worried there for a little bit, but I’m glad you finally came to your senses. We’d hate to lose you because you were unwilling to relocate. We’ll be in touch with all the details about your new show, but we’re thinking Ellen-meets-Oprah with a little GossipTV thrown in.
All the best,
Ava
A new show? New York? How could Rachel keep this from me? This is my life, not hers, even if she is in my body! I read back through the chain of emails between them, Rachel clearly uncomfortable with the idea of moving and Ava reminding her of my contract and what would happen if I didn’t take the job in New York. They’d have the right to terminate my contract and would have no problem doing just that. Basically they were blackmailing her into taking the job. So many questions swirl in my head that I grasp the edge of the desk to steady myself. How can she leave her kids? Is Charlie going? Why didn’t she confide in me?
I click on an email from Destiny about looking online at apartments in Brooklyn. And one from Charlie saying that Ava called a meeting with him and that he thought they were going to ask him to executive produce the show. Tears spring to my eyes as I realize that Rachel was willing to give up seeing her family so that I didn’t lose the one thing I had always loved most, my career. It was clear in the emails that she had been trying to buy as much time as possible before finally getting backed into a corner.
I can’t let her do this.
I know if I call her, she’ll tell me that we’ll figure things out before she has to leave for New York, that I should just let her take the job for now. But now that I’ve
fallen in love with all the people who mean the most to her, I know that she can’t spend another day without them.