I thought it would be pointless to ring the doorbell, considering I knew she was out back. Granted, there might’ve been someone else inside—or she might’ve been able to hear the chime from the patio—but I didn’t want to chance it. Just my luck, she’d make a scene about how I touched a part of her house and contaminated it with my dirty finger.
At thirty-two, I was too old to deal with this.
Yet here I was, scared of a rich snob.
On my way back home, I thought I’d do my best to inform her about the package. It wouldn’t surprise me if she blamed me for something happening to it—she’d probably find a way to blame me for it being delivered to the wrong house to begin with. But when I approached the opened gate that led to her pool, I was briefly stunned by the sight.
I wasn’t sure it was possible, but Tiffany looked even better than the last time I’d stopped by. In long black leggings, a loose white tank top, and her signature high heels—which I always thought were worn with dresses, not everything—she stood in front of the lounge chair. She swayed a bit, making me wonder if she’d already started drinking. Honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised me, especially since I assumed that she’d partaken in the dragon’s juice the last time I was here. But there was something about her that looked different—more than just the clothes.
If I hung around any longer, she’d likely have me served with a restraining order, so I decided to get on with it and leave. “Hey, just letting you know that another package was—”
That was all I was able to get out before she fell over.
3
Tasha
I would never understand why women chose to wear heels.
I’d spent the last three days practicing the art of walking in Tiff’s stilettos without breaking my neck. Well, I’d also spent that time memorizing the names of everyone in her social-climbing circle, being fitted for clothes that cost more than all my possessions combined, and getting spray tanned. Needless to say, I’d been Tiffany Lewis for less than a week, and I was already trying to find ways to convince the media that aliens had abducted her so I could quit.
As I sat on the side of a lounge chair—which was more comfortable than my old couch—I stared at my reflection in the French doors that led into her massive house. Seriously, no one needed something that size. Anyway, I took in my appearance and held back the vomit that burned my esophagus.
What I saw staring back at me was my worst nightmare come true.
For the last ten years, I’d done everything I could to separate myself from my twin sister—at least physically. While she’d been over-processing her hair since we were teens, I’d kept mine its natural dirty-blond color. Now, my long locks were platinum with the texture about two steps above hay. Then there was the issue with my glasses. Sometime over the last decade, Tiff had gotten laser surgery to correct her vision, which meant I had to endure contacts the entire time I was here.
I nearly poked an eye out this morning putting one in.
Also, Tiff preferred the dramatic look of a smoky eye; meanwhile, my idea of putting on makeup consisted of colorless lip balm and moisturizer. In the end, the “glam squad” hired to tend to me had agreed to forego the contouring unless I left the house.
Let’s just say I had zero plans of leaving the house until this was all over.
I was well on my way to becoming Tiffany Lewis. All I needed now was the ability to walk ten steps in heels without stumbling…and a very large stick surgically implanted up my heinie. Oh, and I would need to perfect her sneer. No one would believe I was Tiff if I didn’t regard them with utter disgust.
With a deep breath, I pushed against the lounge chair and steadied myself on my feet. My legs wobbled like Bambi, so I released the air I was holding in my lungs and relaxed. I only had to kiss the ground eleventeen times to learn that trick. However, it only seemed to work when I first stood; it didn’t help at all while actually walking.
Just as I was about to take my first step, I was startled by someone standing twenty feet away in the back yard. Well, he wasn’t exactly in the yard—he stood next to the gate I’d left open. I had no idea what he said, because when I glanced in his direction and saw someone standing there, I jumped. In heels.
One second, I was confidently standing in diamond-studded torture contraptions, and the next second, I was flat on my back. Okay, that was slightly exaggerated. I wasn’t anywhere close to being confident in these shoes.
He shouted something unintelligible as he ran toward me. At least, I assumed he was on his way to me; I couldn’t see past the birds flying around my head. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Out of nowhere, the sun was eclipsed by the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. Dark-green eyes stared intently into mine as he leaned over me, his brow lined with five deep creases. I knew it was five because I counted them. It was the only thing I could do to keep myself from running my fingers through his light-brown hair. It looked so soft.
“Are you okay?” he repeated. “Say something so I know you’re all right.”
I closed my eyes to concentrate on his question; I couldn’t think straight while looking at him. While mentally assessing my body for any aches and pains, I discovered something frightening.
I flashed my eyes wide open and practically choked on a panicked breath. “I can’t feel my legs! Oh my God, I’m paralyzed!”
I
