Star Power (13 page)

H
er bag was over her shoulder and her attitude was to the heavens, but there was nothing angelic about it. Charly marched up the back staircase, headed toward Nia's room. She wanted answers, and would get them. Today. Her knuckles were rapping on Nia's door before she knew it, but she didn't answer. Charly pressed her ear to the wood and listened. There was movement inside the room. It was faint, but she heard it. She balled her fist, then banged on the door like she was equipped with a badge and a warrant. She stepped back, crossed her arms, then tapped her foot.

“Oh, hey, Charly,” Mya's voice called out from the staircase.

Charly turned, watching Mya step onto the landing. She was smiling like everything was everything. Charly forced herself to return the politeness Mya had offered her. It wasn't an easy thing to do, especially now that she considered Mya a druggie. “Hey back,” she said, turning on her heels. She figured if she couldn't get to the sister she'd come to see, as long as she got to one of them, it was still progress. “What are you getting ready to do?”

Mya threw up her hands in the air, then dropped them to her sides. “I don't have anything planned. What's up?” She now stood at her bedroom door with her hand on the knob.

“Yes, you do. You have a lot to do,” Charly said, her voice a combination of forced sweetness laced with a demanding tone. “Let's shoot over to the city so we can get some shopping done.”

Mya's face brightened, telling Charly that Charly was now speaking her language. “Cool. Let me grab my purse and phone, and I'll be ready.” She paused. “You're driving, right?”

Charly laughed low and knowing. “Because you can't, right?” She smirked. “No worries. I had the studio send a car here this morning. It's outside. Liam has to work, so he can't run me around. I'll meet you out front.”

 

Mya had talked the entire ride, and Charly regretted not being able to make Liam tag along. It wasn't fair that she had to suffer Mya's being full of herself on her lonesome. She felt bad for the hired driver and worse for herself because she had to sit in the backseat of the town car with the talker of the year. For almost an hour, Mya had gone on and on about herself, making Charly want to regurgitate in her own mouth. She was sure that tasting her own vomit was more appealing than listening to Mya and her never-ending conversation about nothing. The girl had spoken about not one thing of interest and, after ten minutes Charly questioned if she and Nia were really twins. After twenty, she wondered if they were related at all. Charly looked at her, waiting for her to collapse because she was sure Mya was going to deflate and puddle on the seat. She had no substance, so she was an empty shell. Charly blinked slowly, knowing she had to be mistaken. There was no way in the world Mya could be as dense as she presented herself to be, not after she and Nia were both excellent students before Mya's departure from herself to obviously being like the in crowd.

“Mya,” Charly said, interrupting her as she was in the middle of talking about a pair of red-bottom shoes she thought she needed. “I need your opinion on something.” Mya looked up, giving Charly her attention. “How do you do it?” Charly asked, baiting her. She needed to see which side, strong or weak, would appeal to Mya.

“Do what?” She perked up, apparently liking to be needed.

“You know, how do you handle always having to be the strongest? The leader and the one everyone looks to? I have a younger sister, and it's hard for me. Everything rests in my lap, as my dad would say.” Charly sounded sincere, but she wasn't. Her younger sister meant the world to her, and there was nothing she wouldn't do for her.

Mya paused, then picked up her phone and started checking her text messages. Charly had obviously lost her attention. Mya shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you because I couldn't care less. I don't do weakness, Charly. If my sister wants to lie on the floor like a doormat, then that's her choice. I don't let her problems become mine and vice versa,” she said, never looking up. Her words were void of any feeling, and Charly knew she'd have to handle her differently to get through to her. She resumed talking about red-bottom shoes.

The driver pulled the car alongside the curb, parked, and got out to open their door. Charly reached over and put her hand over Mya's phone. Gently, she pushed it down toward her lap, and it took everything in her to be so kind. What she really wanted to do was slap it out of her hands for being so rude. “I wasn't done talking, so don't igg me when I talk.” Her voice was edgy as she instructed Mya on not ignoring her. “Please,” she forced herself to say.

Mya's blank expression said she was clueless, but a flicker of something was behind her eyes that gave Charly hope that she wasn't. “Oh, I didn't know. What's up?”

Charly heard a click, then felt wind on her back when the driver opened the door. She rotated her body and flashed him a smile, then thanked him, grabbing her purse and stepping out of the car. She looked around at the shoppers while waiting for Mya to exit the back, which was taking a lot longer than expected. The driver stood at the door, waiting patiently for Mya who, Charly discovered after she bent forward and glanced inside the town car, was refreshing her pressed powder and lip gloss. Her patience had died, and her tolerance was waning. She cleared her throat, then tried to calm herself. She knew she couldn't get on Mya's good side if she handled her the way she wanted. In order to get Mya to play into her hand, she'd first have to pretend to play into Mya's. She stood straight, breathed deeply, and summoned her inner actress again.
I can do this,
she assured herself.
I can dumb down. That's all it's going to take,
she tried to convince herself as she squared her shoulders and prepared for what she was sure was going to be the longest shopping trip of her life.

Mya finally made her appearance, one motion at a time, like she was a celebrity on the red carpet. Charly watched the deliberate exit unfold in front of her in three steps. First, Mya stretched her leg out of the car, setting her foot on the ground just so. Her hand extended to the driver next, and she placed her palm on top of his like she was a queen and he was there to kiss her ring. Carefully, like she was fragile and would break, she gripped his, then got out ever so slowly, making Charly exhale in appreciation of the show being over. Now standing tall, Mya stopped and paused, slipped on a pair of sunglasses, then shook her hair like she was being taped for a shampoo commercial.

“Ugh,” Charly said, disgusted. She took a few steps, then reached over and grabbed Mya's arm, pulling it. “Thank you, and sorry,” she said to the driver, who smiled and tried to conceal his distaste for Mya's dramatics. “No cameras, Mya,” Charly said, walking toward the entrance of a ritzy mall that housed high-end shops.

Mya smiled, adjusting her sunglasses and keeping in step with Charly. “What do you mean?”

Frustrated, Charly stopped, then stepped in Mya's path to block her. “Not today, Mya. Today, you get to be yourself. You don't have to perform for me. I
know
who you are. Who you
really
are. So no need for the antics.”

Mya's perfectly arched brows lost their perfection when she crinkled them. “What do you mean by
antics,
Charly? What are you implying? Because it sounds to me like you're accusing me of being other than who I am. You don't know me, Charly. So don't pretend to.” Her arms were crossed and her I'm-too-pretty-to-be-myself façade had come tumbling down, replaced by an attitude of one who was certain about her true self, not some feigned popular air.

Charly clenched her teeth to prevent from smiling. She knew there was depth somewhere inside of Mya, and she'd discovered it, thanks to Mya's annoying her. Charly began to walk, throwing her head in the air. She could give Mya exactly what Mya gave everyone else—showmanship with the worst sportsmanship possible. Now that she'd resurrected the true Mya, it was time for her to tame her. To show her what it felt like to be treated small and insignificant, what she'd apparently been doing a lot to her sister. Charly looked over her shoulder at Mya, then turned her head, making her longer tendrils float in the wind. Borrowing a tactic from Mya, she reached into her purse, took out her sunglasses, then slid them on her face. Not once did she reply to Mya, who kept clearing her throat as if reminding Charly that she hadn't answered her. Charly stopped in front of the mall entrance door, and stepped to the side. She would show Mya one step at a time who was really the star. Mya had local celebrity status, Charly was now global.

“Really? So you have nothing to say for yourself?” Mya said, opening the door and getting ready to walk through it, but Charly beat her to it.

“Thanks,” Charly said, as if Mya had purposely held open the door for her, which, in her opinion, was being too nice, but someone had to teach the girl some manners. Mya hadn't even thanked their driver.

Mya grimaced, then stomped her foot like a child. “Charly? What's your problem?” she asked, standing in the doorway.

Charly turned and looked at her. She removed her sunglasses and stared at her, never batting a lash. “You're my problem, Mya. My problem and everyone else's, it seems.” She laughed and shook her head. “Funny how you've tricked everyone else. Well, at least you thought so.” She shrugged. “But the funny thing about being a star—a real one, and not one who pretends to be just to hurt other people, namely your sister, Nia, is that when you're a real star you get something called star power. In my case, that consists of a team of researchers who get paid to get the background information on the families we select.” She blinked slowly, then tilted her head and smiled. “In doing a check for the show, a lot of dirt was uncovered. Secrets—juicy life-changing secrets about your family—came to light. And, I'm disappointed really. What you did to your sister that night you crashed the car . . .” She shook her head. “It's a shame. How could you be so heartless? Now we're stuck. You guys had buried your dirt so deep it's just starting to reveal itself, and we don't know how to proceed. The show's been approved so we have to do it, but who knows,” she said, shrugging. “We may just have to cancel it and, possibly, reveal why: the mayor's daughter is a druggie, and Daddy Dearest covers up for her, so the other sister has to suffer.” She stretched her eyes. “And that would be even more of a shame than how you treat Nia, because your dad has reelections coming up soon, right?” Charly finished, then turned around. She'd just cast her rod to bait and hook the fish, and knew Mya was going to bite, so there was no use in standing around. She knew Mya would spill before they finished shopping.

M
ya's hand was on Charly's shoulder before she made it to the escalator. “You're not going to say anything about my family.” A demand, not a question.

Charly turned and looked at Mya's hand, then up to her eyes. “Catch yourself or catch a beat down, Mya,” she warned, then shook Mya's hand off her. “I'm not Nia, and you put not an ounce of fear in my heart or a pause in my thinking. I'll curl you around one of these poles in here. I have no respect for you,” Charly admitted. If Liam were there, he'd chastise her like she was a child, but he wasn't there and she wasn't being immature. She was just doing what she had to to get what she wanted. That included saving Nia and, now, Mya too, if only from herself and prescription meds. Adrenaline raced through Charly's veins. Being touched wasn't something she liked. Yes, she knew she was pushing Mya, but she had to. Getting under Mya's skin was the only way she was going to get through Nia's barrier, but first she had to find out why it was there. Mya had the answer, and Charly knew it.

Mya nodded, but not in agreement. Her head moving was a sign of her strength, it was more like an I-dare-you nod than one of fear. “You don't have to respect me, Charly. However, you're not going to disrespect me either. Not to my face.”

Charly stepped up. “Oh no?” She shook her head. “Because you're going to do what? Stop me?”

Mya stood her ground. “No, because you don't know who I am—you don't know my sister either. You think she's all innocent? That she's the victim? Nia's the problem, not the solution!” Mya raised her voice.

“I know that your dad's career is on the line if you don't tell me the truth.” Charly felt her principles fall with each bullying tactic she used, but she had to fight fire with something of a supernova power. Regular heat wasn't enough. Mya was stronger than she'd thought.

Mya's eyes began to water, and Charly didn't know if she was tearing because she was angry or hurt. Whatever the reason behind the emotion, Charly appreciated it because it meant she'd struck something. Finally, she began to breathe, feeling progress approaching. “There's a café on the other side of the mall. Let's go there,” Mya said, pointing.

 

A bottle of Perrier sat on the table in front of Charly, alongside a toasted bagel. Charly crossed her legs, sitting sideways in her chair. She bounced her foot, watching Mya. She'd sat in silence for minutes, using a French fry to move around the buffalo shrimp on her plate, looking like she had no intention of eating. Charly was waiting for her to speak, but she acted like her lips were as glued to the plate as her fingers were to the food. “So you're not going to eat at all?” Charly asked.

Mya looked up and locked eyes with her. Her expression was one of a guilty child who'd been caught red-handed doing something they'd been told not to do. “What do you want me to say? You want me to hang my family?” She sucked her teeth. “That's not going to happen.”

Charly's breath caught in her throat. Here she was pushing Mya for the truth, and she'd come across all wrong. She wasn't trying to hurt her or her family, but could now see why she'd take it that way. “I'm not trying to get you to turn against your family, Mya. You got it all wrong. I'm just trying to discuss Nia.” She leaned over the table, looking into Mya's eyes, pleading with her.

Tears tracked down Mya's face. “Yes, that's what you said, Charly. And who gives an eff about Nia? I don't. Why should I? It's always Nia
this,
Nia
that
. Nia's going to get a scholarship and she's barely fifteen years old,” Mya huffed. “Nia's the smartest twin. I thought identical twins are supposed to be identical?” she blurted at top speed, moving her hand like a mouth opening and closing as if she had a puppet on it. She looked at Charly colder than anyone ever had. “You can talk about my sister all you want. I don't care about that. I'm used to it, especially since the accident. She wallows in pity and plays on people's emotions because of it. But I won't hand my father to you. He's a good guy, and he's never done anything wrong to anyone. Plus, he's
all
I got.” She reached in her purse, then took out her shades, and slid them on her face. She picked up her glass, took a sip, and looked off to the side at shoppers.

Charly lost her breath. She sat back in her seat, taking in what Mya had just admitted. The rivalry between the twins was now obvious, at least from Mya's perspective, and that Charly could understand. But Mya's stating that her father was all she had, told Charly it was about so much more than grades. “Oh, Mya,” Charly said, getting out of her seat. She reached into her purse, took out enough cash to cover the food bill and tip, then tossed it on the table. She walked to the other side of the bistro table, and extended her hand to Mya. Her gesture surprised them both, and Charly realized that she'd grown a lot because she recognized she was wrong, and had no problem owning up to it. “We're going to have to agree to disagree. I've got my take on what I said, and you have yours. But I assure you, I was not threatening your dad or trying to get you to throw him under the bus. I know he's a good guy. Everyone does. If I came across that way to you, I apologize.”

Mya slid her sunglasses down her nose, then looked up into Charly's face. Her eyes were red and her expression was stoic. “You mean it?”

Charly nodded. “Yes, Mya, I do.” She waited for Mya to take her hand, accept her apology, do something— anything that would hint to her believing Charly was sincere.

Mya stood up, ignoring Charly's proffered hand. “Okay, but it's going to cost you.” She gripped her bag close to her side, then began walking away. “And more than the meal too,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Charly. “C'mon. We're here to shop for my dad, right? So let's go. On our way here, on the other side of the mall, I saw a perfect chair for his new office. That should compensate for my wounded feelings.”

Charly just stood, shaking her head. She knew she had it coming, and was prepared to pay the price for making Mya cry, she just didn't think she'd literally have to cough up cash. Even though she knew Mya was going to hit her pockets hard, she had to smile. She guessed that in a very small way, they were alike. They both shone when they walked in a room and, like Mya, Charly was protective of her family. She would stand up and fight for whomever she loved, just as she would for whatever she believed in. She watched Mya walking ahead of her, and her glance moved down to her feet. Charly nodded. They both had a mean shoe game too, but Charly's was better, she told herself, running to catch up with Mya. They still hadn't discussed the night before and the Skittles party.

“Hurry, Charly! Or else I'm going to find shoes to match the chair.” Mya turned to her, smiling and teasing.

Charly nodded and returned the smile. She'd tormented the girl enough, she told herself. They would just shop and talk, side by side, as equals. Mya was acting more mature, and Charly guessed it wasn't an act, but the real her. She wasn't being over the top for attention, and didn't have to compete with Charly like she obviously felt she had to do with her sister, who was smarter. No, she could just be her. Charly only hoped that that included her being open and honest about the pill popping because Charly wouldn't be able to leave until it was addressed.