“Okay.” She seems sad. Does Jesika really want to be friends with me? Girls like her usually find one another—fabulous girls flock together, buzzing around the hot spots in any given city like flies on shit.
Resentment bubbles as I stand from my chair.
“Have a great day.” Peppy positivity laces my words as she smiles up at me.
“Thanks for the latte, Maya. It’s so good to know there are still nice people out there. The next round is on me.” She holds her hot drink up in a gesture of cheers.
I only nod, already turning to escape her bright smile.
I step into the crisp morning air and inhale. I was surprised when I found out Jesika and Dean were moving to Chicago, so dreary and industrial compared to our sunshine-soaked hamlet on the California coast, but the city energy suits me, I’m finding. It’s just the change of scenery I need. I turn down Michigan Avenue, long strides carrying me away from Jesika and closer tomy new life. It feels good to no longer pretend to be Maya, but then, maybe Icouldbe Maya, best friend to Jesika Layman. Maybe it’s time I bury Shae Halston and become the kind of girl that has fabulous friends and cocktail dates filling her schedule.
And then I remember the plan. A wry smile turns my lips.
Jesika and Maya will never be friends.
Shae is going to kill her first.
Chapter Thirteen
Ican’t stop thinking about her.
It’s not surprising because I’ve been trying to adapt myself to her routine the last few days. I even picked up some cheap binoculars just in case Dean and Jesika made a special repeat performance at their picture window.
They haven’t yet. But I’ve been checking fastidiously. I know they’ll be back; I just need to be patient. And now that I know Jesika stops by the Roastery across from Millennium Park every morning around nine a.m., it’s much easier for me to coincidently run into her. I haven’t talked to her again. I’ve been trying to keep my distance as she picks up her morning coffee, then walks the perimeter of the park for a while before veering off Michigan Avenue to pop into a yoga studio. After yoga, she either grabs a smoothie and walks back to their apartment building, or sometimes she walks to a building in the Financial District that overlooks the river. I imagine she’s taking meetings with her agent or business manager, maybe much like the one she would have taken over a year ago when Dean and I decided to hire her for the Mia Starr job.
I regret not flying to Chicago and meeting with her inperson back then. It feels like, somehow, things would have been different. If she’d met me—seen my face—would she still have been willing to fuck my husband? She doesn’t seem like the cold and ruthless home-wrecker type, but then, neither do I, and I most certainly have been one in the past.
I pause, taking in the famous glossy, metallic Millennium Park Bean. Distorted images of my face reflect back at me like I’m in an alternate-reality fun house, my nose larger than life at one angle, eyes large and round at another. I’m looking at a version of myself that’s been fractured into a dozen warped pieces. It’s familiar, but not quite right at the same time and leaves me feeling exposed in a way I didn’t expect.
Sipping my hot oat milk latte, I turn and walk in the direction of Lake Michigan as I muse on what it would be like to have Jesika’s life. I’ve already switched to her morning drink of choice. The chill of the wind coming off the lake bites at my cheeks as I get closer to the lakeshore. Traffic rushes down Lakeshore Drive, and I’m so caught up in my head musing about Jesika’s life that I nearly step into oncoming traffic. A Subaru holds down the horn, and the noise is enough to shake me from my thoughts. As the pedestrian crossing light indicates it’s my time to cross, a gust of wind steals my breath and causes me to falter a step. My coffee jostles just enough that a splash of the hot liquid scalds the skin of my hand. I cuss, tears coming to my eyes as I think how much I hate the Windy City.
Nothing about it appeals to me, from the constant rush of traffic to the icy wind and the cold personalities to match. I conjure the warmth of the LA sunshine on my skin as I finally reach the Lake Michigan coastline. Gray skies bleed into the mist that hovers over the water. The last breath of winter floats in the form of chunks of ice on the frigid waves. The water is deep and dark, and an ominous feeling clings to the shore and my shoulders like a storm cloud. Determined to shake the chill, Iwalk on quick steps back across the park. Instead of heading the way I came, I head south toward Grant Park and Buckingham Fountain. The rich green patina of the marble-and-bronze fountain matches my mood. I’ve been practically green with envy from the moment I found out about Jesika, and now here I am, following her around the Windy City like it’s my job.
A small family on electric scooters zips by me, and I have to sidestep to avoid getting clipped by what looks like a ten-year-old. I resist yelling at the kid and instead take a seat on the nearest bench. Seated along the edge of Millennium Park has proven to be a relaxing activity. I feel like I’m a part of the morning hustle, like I have places to go and people to see. Just like Jesika. And then, speak of the devil, she appears across the street. While I was nearly in a hit-and-run accident with a kid on a scooter, she must have walked into the Roastery. Now, she’s walking out and crossing at the nearest crosswalk, just like she always does. I can see the steam from her coffee curling in tendrils around her head, sunlight hitting her like a halo. The wind whips up her shiny golden hair, and I think how utterly perfect she is. Really, no wonder Dean is in love with her. I think I am too, but not in the same way. I’m fixated, for sure. I can’t let it bother me. Love is a delusion anyway, at least in my experience.
Besides, I don’t want to own this woman—I want tobethis woman. I already am, as far as the internet is concerned.
At that moment, I realize I should be taking full advantage of this situation, and I pull out my phone. I line up the angle just right so it looks like a well-posed but still candid photo. I snap away as she crosses the street, sips her coffee, then stops at a nearby bench and watches the fountain for a while. I’m transfixed by her, coveting the life she is living that was once mine. She has no idea what she’s taken from me, but then, I think she deserves whatever is coming to her. Certainly, she knows Deanis the man who hired her for the social media photo shoots over a year ago. Neither of our names is on the contract, but the name of our corporation is, and a quick internet search of that would reveal both of our real names.
Jesika is scrolling on her phone now, and then she pauses to type out a quick message to someone before going back to her scrolling again. I snap another few photos and imagine the caption I’ll use when I upload them to my Instagram profile. I tuck my phone away and sip my coffee as I consider the lucky position I’ve found myself in. If I stay at a distance from Jesika but close enough to take candid photos every now and again, I can basically get photos and content for free for my page. I’ll never have to buy Jesika’s photos again.
Jesika takes that moment to glance my way, and I wonder if she’s recognized me.
I wave halfheartedly and then think better of it and stand, waltzing toward her with a smile on my face.
She sees me now, recognition lifting her smile before she jumps up from her spot on the bench and walks to me quickly. “It’s so good to see you again!”
“Hi!” I force a smile.
She wraps me in a warm hug and then gestures for me to sit with her on the bench. She’s so easy to be friends with, so welcoming. It takes me by surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever interacted with the world this way. Like every stranger is a friend.
“I think this is a sign we should be friends. Two meetings in one week!”
“Yeah.” I don’t know how to respond.
“Hey, are you available tonight? I have reservations at this super-cool new underground speakeasy. You need a passcode and everything to get in. I’ve heard the best things! My fiancé is too busy working, and the girlfriend I was supposed to go with got booked for a shoot in LA at the last minute.”
“Oh no, I couldn't.”
