“Yeah, no one names their kid Tosh-iffany,” I teased.
Breathing heavier than usual, she fisted my T-shirt and stared into my eyes. “So what does this mean? What now?”
Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
9
Tasha
The last ten days had been pure torture.
I hadn’t been able to spend any time with Jacoby—thanks to the watchful eye of Ty—instead, I had to endure eighteen-hour days of Tiffany Lewis boot camp. Ty showed up every morning at five, and he didn’t leave until eleven. I would’ve given anything to see what he looked like without all that Botox in his face; no one could get that little amount of sleep without major bags under their eyes.
Dave had gone home the day after he’d kind of spilled the beans to Jacoby. I mean, technically, he didn’t break the rules, but if he hadn’t told him about Tiffany’s identical twin sister, then Jacoby would’ve never known. He’d claimed it was because he hated seeing me cry, and apparently, that was the only way to fix the issue. I really did have the best friend in the entire world.
That was also the last day I saw Jacoby. We’d had a really good chat about what it meant for things moving forward, and we both agreed that it was entirely too soon to make any definite plans. So, for now, we would enjoy each other’s company—when we had time to do so—and take it from there. Although, the problem was that he wanted nothing to do with the cameras, and Ty could never find out that I had befriended the neighbor, because he knew it would raise too many questions after Tiffany returned to playing herself. Which meant we’d have to sneak around if we wanted to spend any time together.
I just prayed that we would have more time to do that now, considering boot camp was over and the filming had begun. I’d received the schedule for when the camera crews would be around, as well as where I needed to be and when. It didn’t seem too bad. Most of the time, I was scheduled to be with at least one of the other “housewives,” and aside from a handful of instances, there would be hardly any filming inside Tiffany’s house. That would at least keep the cameras away from Jacoby.
“If you need me, for any reason, excuse yourself to the restroom and call me. Got it?” Deep concern dripped from Ty’s frantic question, his anxiety practically flooding my ear. “And whatever you do, be vague.”
We’d gone over this seventy-seven bajillion times already.
Over the last ten days, I’d been drilled and tested on all things Tiffany—her work, her daily life, her friends—if that’s what you want to call them—and Adam. Ty had a binder full of notes that my sister had made regarding the people I’d be around, and then notes off to the side that Ty had left about how Tiffany acted around each of them. To be honest, it did come in handy, even if it made me feel like I was taking a college course on how to be Tiffany Lewis.
How to Act Like a Vile and Bitter Millionaire 101.
“I got it, Ty. It’s only brunch with a few of the girls.” I probably said that more for my own peace of mind than his. “It’ll be an hour, maybe an hour and a half. It’s not like I’m being forced to stay, so if I get in over my head, I’ll leave.”
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t get to that.”
“It shouldn’t. You’ve prepared me to the best of your ability. Now it’s time for a little real-world practice.” That was how I had to look at it, putting my studies to the test. A warm-up, so to speak. It offered us an opportunity to see where the kinks were, what I needed to improve, and what information had been left out of Tiffany’s notes.
He released a deep and heavy sigh before wishing me luck. Right on time, too, because we had just pulled up to the front of Le Crepes. If there was one good thing about this, it was that I didn’t have to drive. The show provided transportation for most of these events.
The hostess escorted me to the patio where a table full of wealthy women awaited me. As if my arrival had been announced, they all stood up to greet me. One by one, I kissed both cheeks of every woman in attendance before completely rounding the table and assuming the empty seat.
I’d been told there were six of us on the show, counting me, but that only four of my castmates would be here today. I wasn’t sure why the sixth woman didn’t join us, but I wasn’t complaining. The fewer people to test me, the better.
“It’s been so long! You’ll have to catch us up on what you’ve been doing.” That was Jeannine, the wife of record label tycoon, Michael Yates. Tiffany had noted that she was a bit ditzy and always had her nose in everyone’s business. However, Ty’s comments off to the side had translated that into she’s sweet and caring, always interested in the people around her.
Ty had instructed me to be vague about where I’d been—the less detail, the better—and when possible, turn the question onto someone else. So that’s exactly what I did. “Oh, you know, I’ve been here and there, just enjoying a bit of alone time before the chaos of the show ensued. I heard you finally finished renovating your house. How did that go?”
Easy peasy.
However, my deflection was short lived. Lauren, top fashion designer turned stay-at-home mom and wife of three-time Oscar winner, Daniel Molng, piped in. “I heard you just bought a house out by the cliffs not too
