The Celebrity Copycat - A Heartthrob Tale

Chapter 27

Chapter 27:

Three Years Later

"Name?" asked the bouncer at the door.

"Rachel Rosenberg."

"Ah, yes," he said, his eyes scrolling down the list. "Coat check is to the right. Have a lovely evening."

"Thank you."

Rachel walked into the extremely fancy gala keeping her head held high even though at the moment she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Rachel, it's so good to see you," said a colleague from her last monster hit of a film.

They did that fake cheek kiss thing that successful women in films always did. She couldn't believe this was a real thing people did. But if you wanted to succeed you had to keep up appearances. Keeping up appearances was the only reason that no one knew that deep down she hated everything about this life because it was missing the one person that mattered.

She made some small talk and spoke about her latest project. White gloved wait staff handed out hors d'oeuvres and champagne. Rachel grabbed a glass of the bubbly drink and downed it. It took her nearly twenty minutes and three glasses of champagne to make it to coat check.

But once she was done there she headed straight for the bar. Before everything happened she hadn't been much of a drinker. But here she was, ready to get wasted at a fancy gala. But wouldn't everyone become a heavy drinker if their best friend had vanished? No? Just her?

Mikayla's disappearance had taken a toll on her and even though she was good at putting up a front she had never gotten over it.

She walked up to the bartender. "And what can I get you, Ms. Rosenberg?"

Rachel had become well known producer after Mikayla disappeared. Her best friend would be so proud of her. But it was Mikayla's disappearance that turned Rachel into what she was, a hard-hearted, perfectionist. Of course the industry ate up her story.

Every studio wanted to hire the forlorn, excessively vocal best friend of a missing girl who was brutally taken away far too soon. She was just another story to sell to the media.

"Vodka cranberry, please," said Rachel.

That had been Mikayla's drink. No matter where they went she always order a vodka cranberry. She thought it sounded better than what she really wanted, a strawberry daiquiri.

The bartender turned away and made the drink. Rachel adjusted her dress. She couldn't believe she was wearing a dress. Mikayla would die if she could see her now. They said Mikayla was dead, but Rachel refused to believe it. The police were wrong. They said Anthony murdered her. He was far from innocent, the prick, but he wasn't a murderer.

One bloody t-shirt and some crappy security camera footage that showed a tall guy disposing of the shirt wasn't enough. But the LAPD and the DA decided it was enough. And now . . . now they'd never worry about finding Mikayla. She was out there somewhere.

They didn't even care about the report that Mikayla had been seen in Arizona with Jackson Danvers, someone the LAPD brought up themselves early in the investigation. Maybe it was a coincidence. Or maybe not. Either way, Rachel just felt like it had been a missed opportunity to check.

But they didn't. They arrested a guy on circumstantial evidence and patted themselves on the back. She could feel in her heart the Mikayla was out there.

The bartender handed her the drink and she downed it, then asked for another. And another, until she was lightly tipsy and ready to face the cruel industry that she'd embraced.

Liquid courage. That's what she'd told Mikayla the night she disappeared. She just needed liquid courage. She shouldn't have encouraged her friend to drink when she was distressed. Maybe if Mik hadn't been so drunk someone wouldn't have snatched her and run off.

Rachel sighed and walked to her table, her train dragging behind her. She ran into many people who wanted to curry favors from her. They wanted her to put them in her next big hit. It was all drivel. None of them had an ounce of the talent that Mikayla had. None of them could understand what she'd been through. She lost her best friend. She lost the girl who took her in when she had no one. And all anyone wanted was the gruesome details of the trial.

How could she not become heartless in this place?

She passed Nico Porter and his fiance, a pretty blonde girl named Donna. She heard the girl was very shy and very polite. Rachel, however, didn't care. Mikayla had been a huge fan of Nico Harris, but Nico was close with Jackson Danvers. That man would be dirt in her eyes till she saw evidence that he hadn't hurt Mikayla. He'd been seen with her. The man who reported it had pictures. And it sure looked like Mikayla.

She thought how different things would be if Mikayla hadn't disappeared. Her whole life was turned upside down. And it wasn't till after the funeral that she realized how she truly felt. Yeah, Mikayla was her best friend. But it was more than that. She was in love with her. She wondered if her friend had been aware of the fact that she was a lesbian.

Heck, Rachel wasn't aware of it till she realized she was in love. Mikayla had this friendship aura. She pulled people in with her extroverted, bubbly attitude. And when she was gone, Rachel realized that girl was the one who kept her going. She'd do anything for a chance to tell her best friend that she loved her, even if she knew Mikayla would never love her in the same way.

She plopped down at her table. Rachel wasn't in the mood for this. Not now, not ever.

Maybe it hurt so much because this was exactly the kind of event Rachel and Mikayla would have gone to together. They didn't care if they were dating other people. They always went to events like this together.

Mikayla would spend weeks planning her outfit and Rachel would wear the same black pants suit with a white shirt to everything. Everyone called it her Maddow look because she could have passed as a younger Rachel Maddow. How did she not realize she was a lesbian till her best friend was pronounced dead?

Rachel pulled out her phone and answered a few emails. She made conversation with colleagues and friends who came over to her. She posed as the perfect producer, then would immediately go back to her phone.

A couple sat down at the table, but she was too busy scrolling through her phone. "I have to go to schmooze, are you going to be okay, Mina?" said the man.

Rachel didn't hear the girl respond. She didn't even bother to look up to see what wealthy celebrity couple was seated near her. What was the point? If they wanted her attention they could talk to her.

A waitress came around and took drink orders. The dinner was pre-fixed. That was the standard for these gala events.

"Vodka cranberry, and a glass of water," mumbled Rachel.

"Of course. And what would you like, Miss?" asked the waitress.

"Vodka cranberry, please," said the girl sitting directly to her left.

Rachel turned her head to the woman. She stared into a pair of big brown eyes that widened upon seeing her. The woman had short curly brown hair. The girl was small. Even sitting, Rachel could tell she was only about 5'1 and she was wearing a sparkly, blue halter dress.

There was no mistaking who this girl was. Rachel had heard that voice in her dreams every day for the last three years. Even with some contact lenses to hide those bright blue eyes and a surprisingly good wig, to hide her butt length red hair, she would recognize that girl anywhere.

"Mikayla?" Rachel whispered.