My Not So Super Sweet Life Page 6

A migraine begins mounting behind my eye sockets. “The paparazzi have to be even worse by now,” I explain. “Isn’t this their home away from home?”

  Which is why this is the last place on earth I’d ever come if given the choice. Don’t get me wrong, the food’s great. But crowds, attention, expectations…that’s my trifecta of nightmares. My goal in life is to blend. Hard to do when your parents are famous, but with Dad’s weirdo rules and cling to normalcy, it hasn’t been impossible. Blending with Caterina Angeli around, however, is a joke.

  Mom waves her hand in the air. “Most of them are harmless if you give them what they want. The world is just excited to get to know my kids; that’s all. We’ll simply go out there, smile, and let them take their pictures while the valet brings the car around.” She shrugs her dainty shoulders. “It’ll be fine.”

  She nods at the blond dude, a signal of some sort, and he taps his knuckle on our table en route to the hostess stand. I desperately hope he’s asking to have our car brought around. Caterina pushes to her feet, tucks her chair back under the table, and then looks at the three of us expectantly. Evidently, this portion of the day is over.

  “Well, this was a lovely first lunch,” she says as we grab our things. Another one of Caterina’s minions whisked most of their luggage to the hotel earlier, but Rance had refused to part with his guitar. As he slings the strap around his chest, our mother says, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve requested a cab to take Ransom and me back to the hotel. It’s been an eventful day, and I need to lie down.”

  “Oh,” I say, making a face. When did she request that? Whenever she wasn’t on the phone, she was talking with us, filling us in on our sordid past.

  Had this been the plan all along? To eat and ditch? So much for reconnecting.

  Honestly, though, today has been a day of revelations. And a roller coaster of emotions. Second-guessing myself, trying to get a handle on my mother, probing for info with my brother. I’ve had just about all that I can take. Getting space to decompress sounds great…but knowing she wants the same stings like crazy.

  I pull on my familiar plastic smile, not wanting to let on that I’m upset. That would show weakness, something I swore I’d never do around her. “Of course,” I say. “When will I see you again?”

  Crap, did that sound too eager?

  My mother smiles as she slides her mega purse on her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.” She chuckles like I’m being daft, and I wrinkle my eyebrows. “At the wedding, remember?”

  Oh yeah. That.

  In light of the world discovering the details, and then parking themselves on our front lawn, it’s no big secret that Dad’s wedding is in limbo. Right along with Jenna’s diet. When I caught her scarfing a thick slab of fudge last night, she just shrugged. “Times like these demand chocolate,” she said.

  There’s no arguing with that logic.

  “Actually,” I say, “Dad and Jenna postponed it.”

  Caterina’s smile fractures as color leeches from her face. I watch, wide-eyed, as she reels back and then grasps her chair for support. “What?”

  Silence.

  The quiet din of conversation, the clank of utensils around us, ceases.

  We’re the center of attention. Again.

  Patrons of The Ivy are used to hobnobbing celebrities. Bigwigs come here all the time; it’s part of the restaurant’s charm. But familiarity didn’t stop the subtle stares and whispers those patrons had been casting in our direction for the last hour. Caterina Angeli is on a different level, I guess. Especially with the gossip bombs she’s dropped during the last twenty-four hours. The Kardashian family has nothing on her. But now that she’s made a spectacle, she’s declared open season.

  Cell phones whip out, pictures snap, and excited murmurs rise. All while Caterina’s eyes flash with emotion. What emotion I couldn’t say, because sadly my own mother is a stranger, one even more confusing than yesterday. But the woman who exudes assurance and works the cameras like a supermodel is gone.

  I turn to exchange gobsmacked looks with my boyfriend and new brother. Of course, they’re dudes, so they’re zero help, but it’s not as if this is exactly my territory, either. I don’t do emotions well. Before Jenna and Alessandra, I didn’t do them at all. This girly stuff is still new for me. Am I supposed to offer her a hug or defend my dad’s decision?

  Reyna really should’ve given me an instruction manual.

  Thankfully, Caterina pulls herself together on her own. The Hollywood smile returns as she glances about the room and asks in a gentler voice, “When did that happen?” Followed quickly with, “And why?”

  She wants to know why? Either my mother is fishing for intel or she really is as self-involved as I’d always imagined. She was married to my dad; shouldn’t she know how private he is?

  True anger, for the first time since catching her on The Kate Lyons Show, boils under my skin. You can mess with me all you want, but I’m a daddy’s girl. He’s the one person I’ve always been able to count on. Indignation on his behalf churns in my gut, and before I can check it, I spit out, “Last night. After the details were leaked on national television and Dad came home to forty-seven bloodsuckers harassing his family for a quick buck.”

  My mother winces at my sharp tone. Lucas snorts. And Ransom snaps his fingers.

  “Time to jet,” my half brother says, and before I can wonder if my response came out too harsh, I’m yanked from the table. Rance nods as Lucas steers me toward the exit, toward the chaos we only recently escaped. And away from my shell-shocked mother and patrons who are no doubt tweeting as we speak.

  I slide on my sunglasses seconds before we step outside. Even with the dark lenses, I feel exposed when I see how large the crowd has grown. With my yummy lobster ravioli considering a comeback, I look to Lucas, who points beyond the cameras to his shiny black car idling near the curb. Thank God.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  I nod, unable to speak, and we run for it, dashing through the packed patio and out through the white picket fence. On principle, I never dash. That, along with emotions, is a sign of weakness, and I prefer acting as though the cameras and attention don’t bother me. But at this point, no one’s buying that anyway. Even if they did, I no longer care. I just want out.

  Jack is waiting dutifully at the sidewalk, and with the help of his team, they push the paparazzi aside. Lucas throws open the passenger door, and I scoot my butt in, locking eyes with Ransom just before the door closes. With the yells, questions, and general nuttiness around him, he looks lost. Lonely. And a bit curious.

  Strange that I can read him so well, when I can’t do the same with my own mother.

  I lift my hand in a wave as Lucas jumps in on his side. Most of the cameras are tracking Caterina, so they flock to the cab behind us, giving us an easy exit. As Lucas peels away from the curb, I turn in my seat, and watch as Rance raises his hand in good-bye.

  Seeing Double

  ∙Lucas∙

  My foot is glued to the accelerator. Somewhere behind me, Jack is probably cursing me out, but I don’t care. My only goal right now is to get Cat away from the drama. Away from the insanity following us and from her crazy-ass mother.

  Gritting my teeth, I check my mirrors and change lanes. Cat’s phone beeps from the center console, the first sound to break the silence since we tore away from The Ivy. She glances down to read the text.

  “Mom wants to have lunch again tomorrow,” she says with a sigh. “With everyone this time. Guessing by everyone she means Dad and Jenna.”

  Of course she does. Whatever else this may be about, it also involves being seen together often.

  When we come to a four-way stop, I turn to her and ask, “What do you want to do?”

  I know what I want to do. Tell the woman to get lost. But this isn’t my call. I meant it when I said that I’d stand by her no matter what. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.

  With a sigh, she begins typing a response. “They ne
ed to all sit down eventually, but this time it’s gonna be on my turf.” Each click of the keys is magnified in the quiet car. When she’s done, she sighs and drops her phone in her purse. “This is so crazy.”

  I glance in my rearview mirror and then back at her. “What’s crazy?”

  Cat turns in her seat, sliding a leg under her, and drags her teeth over her bottom lip. It doesn’t hide the vulnerable smile lifting her perfect mouth. “I have a brother.” Her voice is soft and almost dreamlike, and damn if that doesn’t get to me.

  The tough girl who keeps everyone at a distance is disappearing. Her prodigal mother returns, some random dude in tow, and Cat’s usual go-to defenses get jacked. It makes me want to bang my head against the dash.

  Caterina spent the entire lunch practically ignoring the children she abandoned and then brought together in a media firestorm. Her public was more important. As for Cat’s newfound brother, I just don’t trust him.

  Ransom Chase is Caterina’s son. Besides the obvious physical similarities, her team of lawyers and agents had to have vetted the guy out. But what I want to know is why did he come forward now? What does this guy want? Has it escaped everyone’s attention that he’s a musician, a career that would benefit from celebrity connections?

  Stealing another glance at Cat, I release a breath and turn at the light. I’m glad she’s opening her heart and trusting more. She should. Most days, she’s surrounded by people who care and want to protect her.

  Caterina Angeli and this mysterious son of hers? They are not those people.

  “Luc, I can’t tell you how many times I wished for that growing up,” Cat says, idly playing with the A/C vent. “A big brother to tell off the mean girls who teased me about Mom or beat up the guys who expected me to be like her. And, God, the fact that he’s a doppelganger…” She trails off with a shake of her head as if she’s processing a million thoughts.

  My focus is on one.

  Another doppelganger. Meaning in addition to the others, including me. A fun revelation from the night I discovered Alessandra was a time traveler. Apparently, look-alikes aren’t just a dumb plot device on chick television; they actually exist. I’ve seen the proof. Snapshots from Cat’s stay in the sixteenth century of Alessandra’s mother, who looks just like Caterina, and the guy who looks exactly like me. Lorenzo.

  Cat’s first boyfriend.

  So what if it was only a nine-day relationship. It might not have anything on six weeks, but Lorenzo Cappelli owns her first kiss. He’s the reason—well, he and her Renaissance ancestors—that Cat started letting people in to begin with. Lorenzo is also the reason she fought our connection so hard in the beginning. She was still hung up on him.

  “He’s a part of my past, Luc. But you hold my future.”

  That’s what Cat told me the night I found out about him. As Alessandra broke the news to Austin that she’d soon be returning to her own time, or so we thought, Cat dragged me away to talk. I was still reeling from seeing Lorenzo’s picture and the portrait he’d painted of her, but I remember thinking that I was being an ass. Austin was telling his girl good-bye forever, and I was pissed that mine once had feelings for some other guy.

  But that’s just it. Lorenzo wasn’t just some other guy. He was a guy who looked exactly like me. After a month of her pushing me away, we’d finally gotten together, and all I could wonder was if Cat really wanted me or if I was simply a fill-in-the-blank understudy.

  Old insecurities crept back in. Whispers that I’ll never be enough—for Cat or for Dad. That the best I’ll ever be is second place, a stand in for David and Lorenzo. But Alessandra fighting fate was bigger than my doubts, so I brushed them off. Told her it was no big deal, and since then, I’ve acted like it doesn’t bother me at all. Hell, I’ve got the girl.

  But every once in a while I can’t help wondering, do I really?

  That thought continues to prick at me as we pull up to her house. Her dad’s Altima and Jenna’s Lexus sit in the driveway, and only a few hard-core stalkerazzi are camped outside the gate. The rest are probably in front of her mom’s hotel. As I shove my hands in my pockets and slog my way to the door, I glance at the two photographers closest to me.

  The first is young, maybe ten years older than I am, and has a manic gleam in his eyes. He snaps pics like he’s hyped up on speed. He’s either hungry for a story or desperate—probably both.

  The other man, though, is who grabs my attention. Dark hair shot with gray, he looks tired. It’s just after three in the afternoon, but I feel his pain. When he lifts his camera, he takes his time, calmly composing each photo before pushing the shutter button. Right now, that careful, observant eye is focused on me, standing stock-still on the driveway.

  “Lucas?”

  Cat is already at the front door, probably wondering what’s wrong with me. Hell if I know, but I don’t move. The older man raises his eyes from his lens and looks at me. Just looks at me. Then he lifts his camera again, and without knowing why, I lift my fingers in a wave. I wait for the telltale click and then follow my girl inside.

  …

  Cat taps her nails on the dark cherry tabletop. Other than that, the dining room is dead silent. She just gave her dad and Jenna the rundown of the day’s events—the chaos at the airport and the even worse lunch. As she did, a bit of the old Cat came back, appearing more curious than eager about Ransom and generally distrustful of her mom. The thing is, though, because of who her parents are, Cat is an expert chameleon. She can read a room in an instant and subtly transform herself into the girl she thinks people expect. It’s so second nature that I’m not sure she even realizes when she’s doing it. But I do.

  Her dad does, too. I can tell from the way he’s watching her that he’s not quite buying it, either. He’d already known some of the details before we arrived—Jenna spent the morning glued to every entertainment site in existence, knowing today’s reunion would be headline news. As a result, they actually witnessed the whole surprise you’ve got a brother portion live.

  Mr. Crawford looks like he could use a stiff drink. I can’t help but feel for him. At one point, he loved the woman. After all, he married her, and unlike a lot of Hollywood players, that actually means something to him. Finding out your ex-wife had another kid and never bothered to tell you about it can’t be easy.

  As the silence stretches, Jenna and I exchange bewildered glances. I sure as hell don’t know what to do or say here. Jenna scrunches her mouth and then opens it, just as I hear the front door open.

  “Hello?”

  Alessandra’s accented voice carries down the hall, and Jenna replies, “In here!”

  Her eyes meet mine, and I can tell she’s thinking the same thing I am. Rescued.

  Cat’s cousin always knows what to say. As good as I am at reading Cat, Alessandra is better. Glancing at Mr. Crawford, I wonder if he ever finds it strange that his loner daughter bonded so quickly with a foreign exchange student. That’s the cover story they’re selling to explain Alessandra’s presence. But I guess in the end, he’s her dad, and he’s just happy to see her finally engaging. Besides, it’s not as if he’d ever believe the truth.

  A minute later, Alessandra enters the room, her sweet smile in place, followed by Austin and his smirk.

  “Look, Velma, the Scooby gang back together again.”

  Across the table, Jenna’s concerned look fades. So does Mr. Crawford’s distant one. Cat relaxes in her high-backed chair, and I send Austin a subtle nod.

  I’ve known the guy for a month—hell, I’ve only lived in the States again for three—but I know him pretty well. He’s not that complex. If it doesn’t involve Alessandra, his sister Jamie, or surfing, Austin doesn’t give a shit. But I like that about him. It’s refreshing to hang out with someone who doesn’t have a hidden agenda. The crowd I ran with back in Milan, that’s all they had. Being so straightforward also makes Austin easy to read. From his calculated, playful expression, and Alessandra’s nervous twitches, it’s obvious t
hey know what went down today, and that’s why he’s here.

  Austin came to do what Austin does best. Deflect.

  Hitching his hip onto the polished table, Austin tsks under his breath. “Princess, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Cat give me grief recently about finding my way to class?”

  Alessandra chuckles under her breath before replying, “Yes, I believe she did.”

  Austin nods, then shakes his head, tsking again. “Thought so. But see, even on my worst day, back before you taught me the error of my ways, I could at least find the building.”

  As if their gypsy chanted her hocus-pocus, the tension from the room dissipates.

  The dude is good.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Cat says, rolling her eyes. “You caught us. Lucas and I ditched, but at least we had parental permission. And a good reason.”

  Austin slaps his chest with mock offense. “Are you implying surfing isn’t a good reason?”

  “Yep.” Cat smiles playfully, then slides a look at her dad. “Neither is Led Zeppelin.”

  This time it’s Mr. Crawford who rolls his eyes. Like father, like daughter. Leaning over to ruffle Cat’s hair, he says, “I’ve failed in my parenting if you believe that’s true.”

  We all laugh, and the room seems to take a collective breath. Comic relief. I guess if we’re the Scooby gang, that would make Austin our Shaggy.

  “Well, I think I saw another box of brownie mix in the pantry,” Jenna says, sliding her chair back against the hardwood floor. “I’ll go whip up some snacks.”

  “And I’ll go watch ESPN,” Cat’s dad says, also pushing out of his seat. “That should be a relatively safe channel. They don’t give a rat’s ass about Hollywood.”

  His mouth tips in a teasing smile, but his eyes are tight. Patting Cat on the shoulder, he walks past us to head for the living room, and Cat offers, “The Game Show Network is another good option!”

  After he’s disappeared around the corner, she sighs and looks back at the three of us. “My life is stranger than fiction.”

  “Certainly never a dull moment,” Alessandra agrees with a strained smile. Then she tilts her head. “That is the expression, right?”