Identity Crisis(24)

The man had called her the Bird Woman. He hadn’t known her as anything else. He hadn’t known anything about her. At least not until later, when her world fell apart.

She shivered and pulled a sweat jacket from the back of the chair onto her shoulders. After that, Kendra had moved back home to Portland, back home to the arms of her friends, back to where she could heal. Whatever the hell that meant.

The Bird Woman had been the last of the strangers who had lived their short lives out in her body. Until now, at least.

For the tenth time she went to the closet and pulled out the emerald green gown she’d bought for Tess Delaney’s debut. It was off the shoulder, cut low across the collar bones to show plenty of cleavage. It made her look like a princess at court. Kendra was hardly the princess type, but she figured Tess Delaney, if she’d existed in the real world, probably would be. And, in truth, the dress looked like it was made for her.

She studied her reflection in the mirror and ran a hand through her hair. She’d been blonde since she’d returned to Portland. That was her true color. But that was Kendra Davis. She really couldn’t picture Tess Delaney as a blonde, nor did she want her to be. She would take care of that Friday morning. She wouldn’t have to cut it much. She figured Tess was the sort who wore her hair long.

She walked back into the darkened main room of the studio half wishing she’d asked Harris to come over for pizza and a movie marathon, but it was a work night, and Harris needed more sleep than she did. Still, he would have dropped everything to come and be with her if she needed him. So would Dee. But there was nothing wrong with her, not really, just a bit of not-so-happy nostalgia. And tomorrow, when she became Tess Delaney, it would be a part of her job, and that would make it easier. She would never go back to the dark places that had pulled her in those years in California. Everyone had their dark places, and being Tess Delaney was anything but a dark place. The woman was bright and optimistic and hopeful and full of happy-ever-after good cheer. And that was something Kendra would be glad to have. Though it certainly didn’t seem like Garrett Thorne had a lot of it, unless she was badly misjudging, and that wasn’t very likely.

There had been more email exchanges, each one with Kay Lake sounding totally in control of the situation, but as the time drew nearer Garrett found himself less and less sure. Sometimes he tried to blame it all on Kendra Davis. How could he trust such a volatile, unpredictable woman? How had he ever allowed himself to be talked into such insanity? At other times he reminded himself that it had, ultimately, been his idea, that he had been the one who refused to out Tess Delaney. And yet he doubted himself. Could he really pull it off? Could he really go to the Golden Kiss Awards with Kendra Davis on his arm, with her projecting out to the world her version of Tess Delaney? How could her version be anything close to how Tess really was?

Tess Delaney wasn’t real, he reminded himself for the thousandth time. Kendra could play the role any way she wanted to and it wouldn’t matter. That thought only served to make him more nervous.

By Thursday night he was a basket case. A glance at the clock on the nightstand informed him that it was almost three in the morning. He’d only been in bed an hour. Up until then there was no reason to even attempt sleep. The beer he’d drank to make himself sleepy had only made him have to pee, and now he lay awake, every muscle tense, staring at the ceiling. He grabbed his BlackBerry from the nightstand and texted with shaky fingers.

Are you awake?

He regretted it the moment he’d done it, but there was no taking it back. God, Kendra would probably not even see it until the morning, then she’d think he was the neurotic mess he actually was. So much for good role playing. His BlackBerry rang in the darkness, causing him to jump.

‘Garrett, are you all right?’ Kendra spoke without greeting, and the concern he imagined he heard in her voice made him instantly feel a little better, if a little silly.

‘Fine.’ He could feel the embarrassed heat rising up his throat. ‘Can’t sleep. Nervous, I guess.’

‘There’s no reason to be.’ Her voice was softer than he remembered it, warmer. ‘I promise it’ll be OK.’

‘Why aren’t you asleep?’ he shot back, trying to sound a little less neurotic. ‘It’s the middle of the night.’

‘I don’t need much sleep,’ she said, with a chuckle that sounded a little rough, as though maybe she had been sleeping, or at least she should have been.

Or maybe it was her bedroom voice. Suddenly, his body was at full attention. He took a deep breath and hoped she wouldn’t hear his heart, which was now juddering in his throat. ‘Me neither. I usually write best after dark. But these days the writing hasn’t been going too well.’