“Obviously I couldn’t tell you the truth,” Faye says, noticing Naomi’s judgmental expression. “I couldn’t tell anyone. I had to sign an NDA and everything. I wasn’t sure how long it was going to go on for or how—if—it would even work, but they said they’d make it worth my while. I’d get an insane new wardrobe, incredible stylist, makeup artist, personal trainer, personal chef… they’d cover all expenses and pay me a salary on top of it.”
Naomi nods, now understanding where all the money was coming from those months before Faye’s “death.” And the real reason for her secrecy.
“Anyway,” Faye continues. “I just kind of thought, ‘Fuck it, this might be the only chance I get to make it.’ It didn’t take long for me to get up to speed. I already knew all her songs. All her choreography. I sounded like her, could move like her. I mean, you know I idolized her. How her music refocused me in high school, helped me get away from all the bad stuff.” She waves her hand dismissively.
“I know,” Naomi says, sighing.
“It’s why I get so emotional when fans say that to me now. Because I was like them. And no one else really gets it. Most people just think it’s silly pop music, but it’s not.”
“Well, especially not anymore,” Naomi says, heart soaring as pride momentarily overtakes anger and suspicion. “You won a Grammy, didn’t you?”
“Four, actually.” Faye smirks. “But with the highs come the lows.” Her smile fades as she looks out the window.
“I’d been so excited to meet Harlow when she finally came back. I wanted to impress her with my singing and choreography, show her everything I’d been working on, how well I could impersonate her. But Sam failed to mention that she had no idea about me. Not one fucking clue. And, well, let’s just say she’s the inspiration for my lyric, ‘Don’t meet your idols.’”
Faye’s tone turns from wistful to harsh. Naomi eyes her cautiously.
“Harlow was either showing up late or not at all. It was so frustrating, her taking it all for granted. But I tried my best to be pleasant around her. To please her. But no matter how hard I tried, she wanted nothing to do with me. She loathed me.” Faye lets out a huff, not bothering to hide her frustration. “So I chose to see her bad attitude as an opportunity. I stopped trying to please her and instead focused on looking out for myself. I wanted to show Sam that I was the better version of her. I could sing better. Dance better. And I could even perform better. But most importantly, I was reliable. And when Harlow didn’t show up for an important pre-Grammy performance for the Recording Academy, and I was able to stand in last minute, I think Sam started to finally realize I was more valuable to him than she was.”
A pit forms in the center of Naomi’s stomach, worried where her sister’s story is going. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think this was all a story Faye had fabricated. A pretend, make-believe world where her dreams came true.
“The next few weeks were amazing, while we prepared to record the next album. Not only were they letting me do a lot of the demos, but Sam was keen to hear more of my songs, wanting to see if there were any that we could use. He and Charlie loved one of them so much they even encouraged me to do a TikTok and unofficially release it.”
“Without running it by Harlow?” Naomi asks.
Faye shrugs. “I almost asked, but then decided not to. They’d kind of given up on her. Even though she was back, she seemed further away than ever, all over the place—which, now that I know why, I feel horrible about…”
Naomi furrows her brow, wondering what she means, but lets her continue.
“But at the time, I had no reason to feel bad. It was my chance. My plan was finally working and if the world loved my song, especially after Harlow’s last single flopped, then Charlie and Sam couldn’t send me away. If she no longer needed a double, surely they’d sign me, asme.”
Naomi bites the inside of her lip, considering her sister, wondering if that’s what she truly believes or if it’s just what she is telling herself to make herself feel better.
“And, of course, everyone loved the song. Everyone except Harlow.” Faye pauses, as if lost in a distant, unpleasant memory.
“I was working on some songs at the beach house in Maine—she allowed me to stay there when she was elsewhere. I’d just released the video for ‘Idols’ on TikTok and was really happy with it. I mean, even Harlow’s harshest critics were giving it rave reviews. So when my security app alerted me someone was there, I thought maybe it was Sam coming to congratulate me.” Faye lets out a laugh. “But it wasn’t him. It was Harlow and she was seriously pissed off.”
Faye’s face turns red as she bites a piece of her cuticle off, clearly annoyed at the memory. It reminds Naomi of the countless times she came home after school complaining about a teacher or peer who dared question her about something.
“Harlow storms across the garden, shouting ‘It’s over!’” Faye says the phrase in a mocking tone. “I played dumb for a second, but deep down I knew. I knew it would only be a matter of time before she flipped on me. Not only had I released a song I wrote under her name, with lyrics taking a hit at her, but I killed it. And she was finally realizing I was better than her. More loved than her.”
Naomi raises her eyebrows as she side-eyes Faye. She’s always been confident and fiery, but this is a level Naomi hasn’t seen before. It unsettles her.
Faye ignores Naomi’s questioning glare. “She started screaming, ‘You’re done. This is done. I don’t need you or want you around, pretending you’re me. It’s my career. Mine!’” Faye throws her hands in the air as she imitates Harlow again. “Naturally, I started to panic, worrying if this could really be the end for me. If she got her act together, if this was her wake-up call, then maybe Sam wouldn’t need me anymore. And I wasn’t ready for that to happen. I needed more time.”
The pit in Naomi’s stomach continues to expand with dread.
“I tried to reason with her. But she wasn’t having it. Said ‘I don’t need anyone’s permission to get rid of you’ and things like that.” Faye huffs out another breath, shaking her head. Then she meets Naomi’s gaze, eyes brimming with tears.
“You have to understand,” she says, a pleading look in her eyes. “This cold treatment had been going on for months. I was so done. So sick of her taking everything for granted. Taking me for granted when I’d saved her from countless embarrassments. If anyone deserved to be there, it was me. So I told her I wasn’t going anywhere.” Faye swallows hard.
“And then she really lost it. I’d never seen her that angry before. She just came at me and… I don’t know, it all happened so fast… I pushed her, trying to defend myself. I didn’t even know I shoved her that hard, but she hit her head…” Faye’s voice cracks as tears fill her eyes. She runs her hands through her hair and exhales.
Naomi squeezes her eyes shut, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She feels like she might be sick as she imagines the events unfolding. Harlow ranting at Faye, barreling toward her, ready to attack. Faye shoving her to the ground. But then she imagines another scenario. One where Faye isn’t defending herself. She sees red as Harlow’s words cut her, scare her, so she goes on the attack first.
Naomi knows how volatile Faye can be, remembers their mother chiding Faye as a child. “Faye, you don’t hit people! Faye, you don’t bite people!” Faye’s reasoning was always somewhat justified; it was never random. But where others would hurl insults, she’d throw a punch. Or a block of firewood. Couldn’t help herself. Naomi thought Faye had learned to control herself over the years, but maybe she was wrong. And maybe Naomi was right about Harlow being an unhinged killer, except that “Harlow” is actually her sister. The notion is hard to swallow, but also impossible to ignore.
“You have to believe me,” Faye pleads, now talking rapidly. “I didn’t want her to die. I told her to hang on. That I was going to call for help. So I called Sam. I tried to explain everything that happened. That it was an accident. That I didn’t mean to hurt her. I hoped that maybe she only had a concussion, but when Sam got there, he told me she was gone.”
