I Thought It Was You (Oceanic Dreams #4) Read online

  Zara looked down her nose at me. “Really? You’re here to babysit Jamila on a cruise?”

  I contemplated running away, but Jamila needed moral support. I also hated mean girls, and this woman was clearly one. Plus, there was the not-so-small amount of money Jamila had just put in my handbag that I sorely needed.

  “Yes, ah am,” I drawled, channeling Dolly Parton. For some reason, hers was the first accent to spring to mind.

  Jamila looked at me incredulously, but Zara didn’t seem to find it strange.

  “How is this a thing?” she asked. “Allowing someone on a boat full of drunken passengers, and with temptation everywhere?”

  “All the staff have strict instructions not to serve Ms. Castro alcohol onboard, but I’ll be supervising her anyway. If you think about it, it’s actually one of the best places to detox. She can’t go anywhere.”

  I’m pretty sure I mangled the accent, mixing in a little Joey Tribbiani along the way.

  Jamila looked as if she was about to have a heart attack, but Zara seemed more interested in the content of my speech, rather than the pronunciation.

  “And you’re actually her nurse?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So if I call the center, they’ll know who you are?”

  “Of course they will,” Jamila spoke for me. “But good luck calling all the rehab centers in the States and asking which one is treating me. I’m sure you’ll find they have a little thing called confidentiality.”

  “You know that makes you sound guilty as hell?”

  “No, I’m just pointing out that you should mind your own damn business.”

  “You became my business when you got me fired.”

  “For God’s sake. I’ve told you a million times, I had nothing to do with that.”

  “And I’ve told you, I don’t believe you. In fact, there’s nothing stopping me from contacting the studio and tabloids right now and letting them know you’re here.”

  “Actually, I’m not sure the studio will take anything you say seriously, considering how you left. And as for the tabloids, you’ll look pretty stupid if you tell them I’m not in rehab when I really am. I’d be very careful if I were you. You don’t want to end up like Carmen St. Clair.”

  Zara raised an eyebrow. Apparently that name meant something to her. “You’re right. There’s no hurry. I’ll take my time exposing you. That will make it so much more satisfying when it all comes out.”

  I began to panic. She seemed pretty determined, but when I looked at Jamila, she looked weirdly relaxed.

  “There’s nothing to expose. Now, please leave. I came here for a reason.”

  Zara scowled. “Enjoy your last days as an employed actress. Because as soon as everyone finds out you’re not in rehab, you’ll be out on your ass.” She stalked off.

  When she was out of earshot, I turned to Jamila. “She knows.”

  She waved a hand dismissively. “She doesn’t know. She’s just faking it.”

  “But what if she manages to contact someone back home who is able to confirm you’re not where you’re supposed to be?”

  “The only people who know which rehab center I was staying at are my agent and the director of my TV show. Oh, and a few cops and lawyers, but they can’t say anything because of a confidentiality clause that was part of my deal.”

  “So what if she contacts your agent or director?”

  She snorted. “My agent won’t tell Zara shit. And she’s been banned from talking to the director.”

  Obviously, this was a complex situation. My brain was struggling to keep up.

  “Who’s Carmen St. Clair?”

  “Oh, just an actress who tried to ruin her co-star’s career, and was successfully sued for defamation.”

  “Is that what you are? An actress?”

  She laughed. “I’ve decided I like that you don’t know anything about me. Yes. I play Emma Preston in Legal Lies.” She scratched her head under the wig. “Anyway, I don’t think Zara will easily be able to prove I’m lying, but just in case, we’ll have to work on some believable explanations.”

  “Hang on, why are you including me in this?” I found the bundle of bills in my handbag and tried to give them back to her. “I was happy to help for a few minutes, but I can’t be involved further.”

  “Why not?” She refused to take the bills.

  “Um, did you hear my accent just now? Also, I am really bad at lying.”

  “Admittedly, your accent was terrible, but Zara didn’t seem to notice. And you actually sounded quite convincing while talking just now. Listen, what if I paid you twenty-thousand dollars in addition to that thousand I just gave you and you can pretend to be my rehab nurse for the week?”

  My mouth dropped open. Twenty-thousand dollars? I could do a lot with twenty-thousand dollars.

  I thought about it for a moment. It sure was tempting…and it would get my bank account well and truly back on track. But I wasn’t the kind of person who did stuff like that.

  I grimaced apologetically. “I couldn’t accept that kind of money, and I’m not sure I could keep up such an elaborate charade for a whole week.”

  “Come on, please? Zara was right, you know. My career will be over if the wrong people find out where I am.”

  “That’s your problem. You shouldn’t have left rehab. Clearly, you were there for a reason.”

  She burst into tears. “It wasn’t my fault. My stupid ex set me up. He has a huge drug problem and when the cops came looking for him, he managed to make it seem like I was the one they were after. I hate drugs! I would never do them ever!”

  My resolve faltered. I definitely knew what it was like to be messed around by an ex.

  I hesitated.

  “Okay, how about we go and sit somewhere and you can explain the situation a bit more? I need to know everything if I’m going to be a part of this.”

  She sniffed. “All right. Thanks. Oh, what was your name?”

  “Olivia. Liv.”

  “I really appreciate this, Liv. Come on. I’ll happily tell you everything.”

  I followed Jamila over to the back corner of the pool deck.

  I really hoped I wouldn’t regret this.

  Chapter Three

  “Start at the beginning,” I ordered.

  Jamila made herself comfortable on one of the sun-lounges. “I used to date Seth Ericsson. You know, the guy who does that late-night political talk show?”

  I stared at her blankly.

  “Oh, right. I forgot you’re not from the US.”

  “Well, I know people like Jon Stewart. And Stephen Colbert.”

  “Yeah, they’re a million times nicer than Seth. And way more professional. Anyway, I met Seth at a Golden Globes after-party last year. He was so charming and sweet. Little did I know, he was high at the time. Our relationship evolved really fast, and before I knew it, we were living together. I didn’t realize until too late, but he orchestrated it that way because he had no money and nowhere else to stay. All his friends were sick of him borrowing from them and not paying them back. He did a lot of cocaine, which kept him perpetually broke.”

  I could relate to that situation. Not the drugs part, but Damien and I had moved in together pretty quickly as well. At first, I thought it was romantic, but only later did I realize he’d suggested it because he wanted to save some cash. I nodded sympathetically.

  “Anyway, everything was fine with me and Seth for the first few months. He hid his drug problem from me back then, but one night, he had this huge party and it got way out of hand, and someone OD’d on the drugs he provided. He tried to pretend he had nothing to do with it, but I figured it out. I made him promise to give it up, or at least not bring anything into the house. And he agreed. But he lied.”

  I wanted to commiserate with her, and tell her how my ex did me wrong too, but I felt a little silly. I mean, if this woman was offering me twenty grand on a whim, three-thousand dollars would mean nothing to her.

&nb
sp; “What happened to the person who OD’d?”

  “Oh, they were fine after a trip to the emergency room. But Seth started acting more and more erratically. And I noticed that things were going missing. Like an expensive necklace. And a Birkin bag. He later admitted he’d pawned them.”

  “I’m so sorry you went through all that.”

  “I am too. Especially because it got worse. It turns out he’d stashed a huge pile of coke in one of my jewelry boxes in our bathroom, and he hadn’t paid his dealer, so this thug came around to collect one night, and I was the only one home.”

  I shivered at the thought. “What happened?”

  “He trashed the place as a warning and told me to tell Seth he had forty-eight hours to pay up. So as soon as he left, I called Seth and begged him to come home. He was obviously worried about his supply, so he did, and that’s when I found where he’d hidden it. Then the doorbell rang. It turned out a neighbor had called the cops when they heard our place being destroyed. Seth didn’t want me to let them in, but I knew that would make it worse, so I opened the door. They saw the mess and asked what happened. I told them half the truth, that some guy had broken in and messed up the place. They started asking us lots of questions and Seth wasn’t handling it well. I think he must have been high again. Anyway, he started babbling, and the cops got suspicious and asked to have a look around. They suggested we make a list of everything that was damaged and to check if anything had been stolen. They were writing notes for their report, and I don’t know what came over Seth, but he suddenly decided he had to move the jewelry box full of coke. And you know what happened?”

  “Nothing good, I assume.”

  “You’re right about that. He freakin’ tripped on the rug and the box went flying, and coke went everywhere.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Yep. I knew right then we were in deep shit. The cops were looking around like they couldn’t believe what just happened. And then Seth started acting all surprised. He was like, ‘What the fuck, Jamila? What have you been hiding in the bathroom?’ I almost had a heart attack. I mean, I’m the actress, but he could have won a damn Oscar for that performance.”

  “So what happened?”

  “They took us both down to the station and grilled us forever. I didn’t have a lawyer on speed dial like Seth did, so he managed to work out a story that made it look like it was all me. By the time my studio was able to get me some representation, most of the damage had been done.”

  “That’s horrible! He got away scot-free?”

  “Pretty much. He has a lot of powerful contacts at his network who are willing to lie for him. He’s worth a lot of money to a lot of people. A lot more than I’m worth, that’s for sure.”

  “I can’t believe he got away with it, and you took the fall.”

  “I know. I was stupid. I always think the best of everyone and then they let me down. In an industry like mine, I should know better.”

  “So you were sent to rehab?”

  “Yes. It could have been worse. My lawyer was able to negotiate a deal to convince the cops not to charge me. But as a condition of that deal, I had to spend two months in rehab. Seriously, Liv, it was awful. Especially because I didn’t have any addiction to talk about in therapy. The staff at the center thought I was in denial and wanted me to stay even longer until I dealt with the problem.”

  “Couldn’t you just fake it?”

  “I did for a while. But it was two months, Liv! I’d been there two weeks before I snuck away and it already felt like a year! I figured I could handle a few more weeks if I had a break in the middle.”

  “Wouldn’t the staff notice you were gone? Isn’t anyone checking up on you?”

  “I got Andie, my agent, to sign me out temporarily, saying I had to attend a family funeral interstate.”

  “At least you have her on your side.”

  “Hardly. She thought it was great I went to rehab, because it would soften my image.”

  “Why does your image need softening?”

  “My character is one of the biggest bitches on TV.”

  “Yeah, but people know the difference between reality and fiction, don’t they?”

  “Um, no, they don’t.”

  “That’s messed up.” I was quiet for a moment. If I was going to do this, it would be a pretty big commitment. But the chance to help this woman out and earn really good money in the process was too good an opportunity to pass up. “I still have questions, but I’ve decided I’ll do it. I’ll pretend to be your rehab nurse. But I won’t lie to the authorities for you.”

  She beamed. “I don’t expect you to.”

  “So, how would this work, exactly?”

  “Well, you’d have to come and stay in my suite. It’s pretty nice, though. And there’s lots of space.”

  “Do you have a window?”

  She laughed. “Of course I have a window! I have several, plus a glass door that leads out to a private deck.”

  “That sounds lovely. And what else would I have to do?”

  “We’ll have to practice your story. I’ll fill you in on what it’s actually like at the rehab facility and what the nurses do. After two weeks, I got to know a few of them pretty well.”

  “All right. I think I can manage that.”

  “Oh, and I’m afraid you won’t be able to hook up with anyone onboard. It would look too suspicious if Zara saw you making out with anyone.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, that’s probably the easiest of all your requirements to stick to. Don’t worry, I’m actually on this ship to get away from an ex. The last thing I want to do is get involved with another guy.”

  “Relationships, huh? You’ll have to tell me all about it later. So you’re definitely in?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I’m in.”

  “Excellent. I’ll pay for any additional expenses on the trip, like if we get off at port, and then you’ll get your twenty-thousand on the final day—as long as my cover isn’t blown.”

  “Okay.” I had been wondering what I was going to do without any cash on the days we were in port. And now I could keep the first thousand without feeling so bad about it.

  Jamila held out a hand for me to shake. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Liv. I mean, Nina.” She winked.

  I shook her hand in return.

  Now all I had to do was pretend to be an American rehab nurse for seven days.

  Easy.

  Chapter Four

  Jamila arranged for a porter to retrieve my carry-on and anything else I had left in my other room. She also instructed them to have my remaining luggage redirected to her suite. I was quite grateful, because it meant I didn’t have to see any of the singles people. I was now officially not one of them in any way.

  And then I realized I was being judgmental again. Those singles events might actually be a lot of fun if you were in the right frame of mind and had a friend along to share the adventure with. I vowed not to be so snooty from here on in.

  I followed Jamila to her suite and gasped when I stepped inside. It was like a penthouse in a fancy hotel. I didn’t even know cruises had rooms like that.

  There was a huge living and dining room directly in front of me. A small hall led through to a king-sized bedroom, two bathrooms, and a walk-in closet that was almost bigger than my entire room downstairs. Behind the bedroom was another smaller room.

  “This is normally a study,” Jamila explained. “But I’ll have one of the staff make you up a bed in here.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “This is kind of a lot. And you don’t even know me.”

  “It’s fine. Because I booked this cruise at the last minute and in secret, I couldn’t invite any of my friends. Not that I have any good ones. It’s amazing how being sent to rehab will reveal just how much people care about you. And who will believe you when you try to tell them the truth.”

  “You think a lot of people thought you were guilty?”

  “I do. I know my parents believe
d me, but they live in Uruguay and don’t really understand my life in Hollywood.” She looked down at the ground. “It’s sad that no one else trusted me.”

  I rested my hand on her arm. “I believe you.”

  She made eye contact. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  After a second, she seemed to physically shake off the negativity and smiled brightly at me. “Is there anything you want to do while we’re onboard? As long as it’s not something that will draw attention to us, we can still participate in some of the ship’s activities. I should probably avoid drinking or gambling, though.”

  “Oh!”

  “What?”

  “My brother works in the casino here.”

  “And that’s a problem because…?”

  “I might have to tell him the plan so he doesn’t accidentally ruin everything.”

  “Let’s just wait and see. We’ll work out later if we need to tell him. What’s your brother like? Is he cute?”

  I giggled. “He’s okay-looking. Why? Are you interested in a new relationship?”

  She blushed. “Ah, no. Sorry, I don’t know why I just asked that.”

  There was a knock at the door. The porter had arrived with my stuff.

  “Just put it in there, please,” Jamila said, pointing at the spare room. “And can you have someone make up another bed in there?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jamila turned back to me. “All right. Well, if you don’t have any objections, I’d like to go get a massage. Do you feel like one too?”

  “Actually, that sounds lovely. Thank you.”

  “Great! Let’s go!”

  Down at the spa, the staff seemed to fall all over themselves to serve us. At first, I was worried they were doing it because they recognized Jamila, who had taken off her wig as soon as we were behind closed doors, but she assured me they treated everyone that way if they were paying for one of the luxury suites.

  “I also get twice-daily maid service, unlimited laundry, a fruit basket every day, and access to a butler twenty-four-seven.”