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Trina Tucker’s show set mimics a modern living room with a comfortable-looking yellow crescent-moon-shaped couch and a few colorful throw pillows, plus a backdrop that depicts tall windows with a view of downtown LA. There are some potted plants that I assume are fake and a coffee table in front of the couch.
There’s no sign of the hostess yet.
“What’s going to happen now?” I ask, earning a curious glance from Bobbi.
Shit. Leigh has probably done this a thousand times. She wouldn’t ask such a stupid question.
“Now we wait for Trina to join us. She’ll most likely come over to greet you and create a rapport before the interview,” Leigh answers almost distractedly.
She’s definitely not all here.
Bobbi whips his face to hers—mine—his eyes now as round as saucers. “What the hell is going on here? Did you swap bodies or something?”
My entire body tenses. I trade a look with Leigh, who stares back at me in a panic.
“What? Don’t be crazy, Bobbi,” I say.
“Hey, it’d explain why you two are acting so weird.” He shrugs.
He figured us out, but because our situation is so un-fucking-believable, he didn’t really mean it. We have to be more careful.
Bobbi switches his attention to his phone, and that’s my chance to speak with Leigh. I step closer and pull her away from Bobbi. “What happened while I was getting ready?” I whisper.
She lets out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want to tell you before the interview, but Mia called you, and I answered the phone.”
That alone wouldn’t be reason enough to upset Leigh… unless something happened to my sister. My stomach coils tightly. “Is she okay?”
“Yes, she’s more than okay. She’s engaged.”
My brows arch. “For real? That’s amazing.”
“I guess.” Leigh sticks her hands into her pockets and stares at the stage.
“Wait… you aren’t happy about it?”
“I didn’t even know Mia had a boyfriend.”
The worry crushing my chest eases off, but I still feel bad for Leigh. I’m not sure why Mia didn’t tell Leigh she had a boyfriend. As far as I’m aware, they’re still best friends and talk often, despite the distance. I don’t get it.
But I don’t have time to get to the bottom of the situation, because Trina Tucker enters the studio and makes a beeline in my direction.
Leigh steps aside, probably not wanting to be seen standing so close to me, but it’s too late. Trina notices her.
“Leigh Matthews, I’m so happy you could make it today.” She offers me her hand, and I shake it. Then she turns to the real Leigh. “I know you. You play for the Royals, right?”
“Yep.”
Jesus, could she act less grumpy? I don’t want this woman to think I’m an ass.
“Keanu is an old childhood friend,” I chime in. “We shot a commercial together yesterday after not seeing each other for four years, so we’re catching up.”
“Oh my. That’s amazing.”
One of the crew members tells Trina they’re ready to start. She heads to her spot on the couch, and a few minutes later, the cameras are rolling. Trina does her spiel, then introduces Leigh Matthews, dubbing her as America’s sweetheart. That’s my cue to join her on the stage.
There are a couple of steps, but I’m too eager to get to the couch, and because of these damn shoes, I trip. Instead of waltzing with grace to my spot, I stagger forward like a drunk, trying to avoid falling on my face. I’m unable to regain my balance, but at least I drop onto the couch, not the floor.
“Oh dear. Are you okay?” Trina Tucker asks.
