we no longer have any contact. That’s it. The fraudulent story of Mackenzie Wright.
I never felt the need to elaborate. We’re thousands of miles from that previous life, so there’s no way they’d ever find out the truth. The girls don’t need to know how broke I really am, where I really come from, or what I had to overcome in the past.
The girls think I work so many jobs because I’m trying to spite my rich family, but in actuality, I’m just trying to survive and scrape together a living. They have no idea. They offer help whenever they know I’m penny-pinching just to stay afloat, but for the most part, I try not to take the handouts from them. It’s not like I deserve them.
I’m a liar and a fake. That’s the sad truth.
“Worried about your deadline?” Katherine asks, referring to one of my many jobs. I force a fake smile.
“Yeah. I guess I’m just a little worried I won’t make it in time.”
She scoffs. “Oh stop, you’re a brilliant writer, and you’re insanely talented. They’ll love whatever you give them.”
If she only knew.
She’s merely being a good friend, trying to shower me with praise. They’ve never read a word of what I’ve written. I’d imagine not many have.
My friends think I’m a freelance writer, which I am, but what they don’t know is, I’ve been a struggling writer on the side as well. I take the freelance jobs for extra cash since it’s my only means to survive, but what I’m really focused on is my writing career. I’ve been working on the same project for six years, but I’ve been stuck in the middle without enough information on where to go with it.
My gaze drifts toward the photo in the gossip rag again, and a plan starts to take shape in my head. Feelings I’ve buried rapidly claw to the surface, demanding to be handled.
I think I’ve just found the answers for the project I’ve been working on.
“This looks fun. We should definitely go to this opening.” I find myself saying, my eyes still glued to the photo of Trent Ainsworth with his arms slung around two other guys. Going by their bone structure, I’d say it’s Zach Covington and Vincent Hawthorne. The only two devils missing from the photo are Marcus Whitehorn and Sebastian Pierce.
For the fifth time, my eyes scale over the caption above the photo:
The Hollywood Scoop—SoCal’s biggest playboys are at it again. Three of the infamous five were spotted out on Tuesday night promoting the grand opening of their new, exclusive club in West Hollywood, fit for the elite—The Kings. The guest list is already a mile long filled with your favorite A-list celebrities, guaranteeing the club’s opening to be a success.
Absentmindedly, I rub the pad of my finger over my lips, processing. We can get a flight out of New York to LA with no issues—Vera and Kat are party girls down to their core. They wouldn’t miss an exclusive club opening like this for the world.
“You’re serious? You, of all people, are willing to fly to LA for this? What about your deadline and your PA job at the firm?”
One of my part-time jobs is as an assistant for the marketing director at MainCorp Marketing. It’s a shitty job, but it helps pay the bills. All it costs is my dignity. I don’t usually mind grunt work, but when your boss is an asshole who gifts you with impossible tasks—like picking up dry cleaning, buying coffee and all his other meals throughout the day, oh, yeah, and buying his condoms that I’m one hundred percent certain he isn’t using with his wife—that’s always a fun time.
I shrug my shoulders noncommittally at Vera and nod. “It might be a good distraction from work. I’ve never taken a day off, so it’s not like they can tell me no.”
Kat squeals and pulls me into an air-restricting hug. “Yes! IloveyouIloveyou! I’ll book our flights and set up an appointment with Genevieve for Brazilians. We are going to be the hottest in that club come opening night. Those men won’t be able to keep their eyes off us. Who knows, maybe one of us will even bag one of the millionaires who own the club.” She waggles her brows suggestively.
I smile. A real, genuine smile.
That’s the plan.
I study my reflection in the floor-length mirror in my suite. I can’t get over how different I look. Two days ago, after Kat made sure our bodies