Now That I've Found You - Kristina Forest Page 0,4

at McKibben used to say, that every lead role I got came down to nepotism because of my parents and Gigi. No one thought about how I had to audition just like everybody else or how hard I worked to prove I wasn’t some legacy with a name. It’s why I don’t have any friends, except for Simone. She never seemed to care about any of that.

Except maybe she did.

“You know that isn’t true,” I say quietly.

She glances at me and shakes her head. “Never mind, don’t listen to me. I’m just being stupid.” She jumps up out of her chair, a mischievous look on her face. “This is a cause for celebration! I’ll be right back.”

The tension in my stomach recedes as I watch her skip back inside.

I take a deep breath and wait for my heartbeat to slow down.

Gigi is all the way in New York, and my parents are never around. Simone has been my family since our freshman year. Our white classmates at McKibben thought we actually were related, even though we look nothing alike and all we have in common is our light-brown complexions. After a while, we began tricking people into believing that we were sisters.

If I lost Simone, I don’t know what I would do.

When she returns, she’s carrying a bottle of champagne from my parents’ bar, which is strictly off-limits. But they’re never here, and Simone is grinning, so I reach for the champagne flute she hands me. With a flourish, she pulls the cork, and it shoots out with a loud pop. We both jump back in surprise and laugh.

Simone pours the bubbly champagne into both of our glasses. “To your much-deserved success,” she says, holding up her flute in cheers.

I don’t usually drink, because I hate the taste of alcohol. But I’m so happy, and I do deserve a little celebration.

“Cheers,” I say, knocking my flute into hers.

We sit back down, and I pull up a playlist to match our good mood. Every time one of our glasses is close to empty, Simone quickly fills it to the top. The warm summer air feels amazing on my skin, and I take a deep breath every time a breeze blows. I feel myself swaying in time to the rhythm of the ocean waves, and that’s when I realize I’m buzzed. I’m such a lightweight.

We’re both humming along to Janelle Monáe when Simone suddenly smiles and says, “Hey, do that Paul Christopher impression.”

“No,” I say, laughing. “It’s so bad, and it does him no justice. I don’t sound nearly as dignified.”

“Oh, come on!” Now she’s laughing too. “Your British accent is so good.”

“No.” I shake my head, laughing even harder. “I did it that one time because I thought I could pull it off! I won’t embarrass myself again.”

“Do it, do it, do it,” she chants.

I easily give in to the peer pressure. “Okay, okay.” I stand up and push my thick curls away from my face, pulling them into a ponytail just like Paul Christopher’s. In my best British accent, I say, “The psychological-thriller genre continues to grow more and more each year. You’d better bet your fannies that Deep Within will be my greatest work yet. Better than anything you’ve seen thus far, because I am better than every other director there is, and you’d be a fool to think otherwise.”

Simone giggles, whispering “fannies” to herself. She pulls out her phone to record me. She hiccups and says, “Keep going.”

I start laughing again but force myself to stop, schooling my face into seriousness. I sit up straight and look down my nose at Simone. “Everyone is always going on and on about the awards I’ve won, but is it real talent on my end? Or have I just hypnotized you all with my posh accent?” I say, giggling. “Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it’s talent! Tarantino who? Christopher Nolan? Please. Scorsese? Not bloody likely. I’m leagues better than the rest of these sorry chaps. Cheeky bum, bloody numpty, knickers, knickers, loo.”

As my performance devolves, we laugh so loudly I’m nervous the neighbors might hear us. All the tension and awkwardness from a few moments ago slide away, and what’s left is a feeling of extreme contentment.

“Okay, that’s enough,” I say, flopping back down in my chair. “Paul Christopher is one of my heroes, and I hope he never hears my terrible impression.”

Simone stops recording and puts her phone away. She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “I don’t know,