"No,” I said, "you’re not going to do that."

Her eyes hardened as though I’d offered a challenge and she opened my cell phone. "Watch me.”

I sat up straighter, holding my ground. "If you call him, I'll quit this job. How much money does Kari still owe to casinos and credit cards?"

Her fingers paused on the buttons as she considered my words.

"I know what matters to you,” I said. “You didn't arrange events to help Kari. You want to pay off Kari's debts so Alex Kingsley will be impressed with what a wonderful mother you'd be for her."

Maren slid the phone shut, but her expression seemed far from defeated. She dug through her purse, a sudden calmness about her. “You're right. You do know what I care about, but I know what you care about too.” She pulled two pieces of paper from her purse and held them up: an Alex Kingsley concert ticket and a backstage pass. "I'm just not sure why you care.”

She lowered her chin, waiting for my answer. When I remained silent, she let out a scoffing grunt. "He’s old enough to be your father, you know.”

"Yes, actually, I'm aware of that."

She tapped the ticket against the palm of her hand, watching me, calculating. Her lips turned up ever so slightly, more of a sneer than a smile. “Why throw away your job over Grant? He doesn't care about you anyway. You know that, don't you, Alexia? That Grant Delray doesn’t care about some little nobody from West Virginia. He likes Kari Kingsley. And no matter how much you look like her, you'll never be her. So it can’t work out between you.”

I didn't answer. I churned with anger, but I couldn’t argue with her. I’d thought the same things myself. I’d thought them and tried to dismiss them, but I was afraid they were true.

"We’ll make a deal.” Maren handed me my phone, then held the ticket and pass out to me. "You break up with Grant and you can have these. Otherwise the job is over and I’ll tell Alex’s staff to be on the watch for a Kari Kingsley impersonator— one who's a stalker and has delusions of actually being Kari. You’ll never get past security to meet him."

I stood up, mentally revising my opinion of Kari's lamp- throwing as a solution for dealing with problems. Chucking one of Maren’s lamps across the room seemed like a great idea. I didn’t do it, though. I guess I’d controlled my behavior as Kari for so long that controlling my behavior as Alexia didn't seem much harder.

Maren folded her arms, tucking the ticket and pass out of sight. "And don't even think about making trouble for me. Remember, I have sales receipts where you wrote Kari's name to buy clothes. Granted, it was part of our little game, but the law doesn't know that. If I reported that someone had taken one of Kari’s cards, the police would consider your signature forgery and identity theft." She took slow steps around me, circling the way vultures did. "I imagine Grant wouldn’t be impressed if you got hauled off to prison. And of course, Alex would really look down on someone with a criminal record. He’s funny that way. Was that how you wanted to meet him? Maybe he could come down to the police station to confirm that you’re not really his daughter."

With every sentence she spoke, I felt the blood drain from my face. Never once had I thought she would resort to blackmail. Now I realized I'd put myself at risk for that all along. Maren had given me a credit card in Kari’s name so I could sign for things while I pretended to be her. Of course it would seem to everyone like I’d stolen from Kari.

I felt a sick thud in my stomach. That's what my father's first impression of me would be—that I’d taken advantage of my resemblance to Kari in order to tap into one of her bank accounts.

"I have a copy of my job contract," I said. "Maybe the police would like to see that."

Maren flicked one hand as though shooing a fly. No concern, no glimmer of worry leaked from her eyes. "I'll say it's forged. Trust me, the police would believe Kari Kingsley’s manager and not the teenage girl who's used Kari's credit card." She shook her head, and this time the smile was real, almost sympathetic. "I should point out that your staff will be loyal to me. One thing you need to learn is that I always cover myself."

I clenched my hands together, feeling trapped. What proof did I have that everything I’d done had been under Maren's direction? I desperately tried to think of anything I could offer to the authorities on my behalf.

Maren took a step closer. "It doesn't have to come to that, of course. I really hope it doesn't. As of now, you still have a very lucrative job.” She held the ticket and the pass back out to me. "So which will you choose: Grant Delray, whom you can’t have anyway, or this job and a meeting with Alex Kingsley?"

At that moment, I looked at my life, a bystander for the first time, observing everything I'd done since I found out that Alex Kingsley was my father.

When I’d stormed away from my mom at the hotel, I’d told her I wanted to find out who I was. I'd found out. I was the type of girl who could be talked into doing things if the price was right, the type of girl who deceived thousands of people who’d paid to see a rock star sing. Worse yet, I'd lied to the guy I loved.

This was the girl I wanted to introduce to my father?

How had I become so false in such a short time?

I walked to Maren and took the ticket and pass. "You’re right. It's time I have a talk with Grant. I'll do it in person." I turned the ticket and the pass over in my hand, then ripped them in two. I handed the pieces back to Maren. "You can consider this my resignation."

I turned and walked away from her, grabbing my purse as I went to the front door. I expected her to call out to me, to say either "If you're done working for me, then don’t come back here—you can go directly to the airport,” or maybe “Don't be so rash, Alexia—you can still make a lot of money." But whatever she thought, she didn’t say it.

Outside the sky was blue, the landscaping vibrant, and my stomach so knotted I felt like I could easily throw up. I used my cell phone to call a cab and told the driver he’d find me walking down Montana Avenue. I didn't know who I would go see first, Grant or Kari. Grant would be harder to face; Kari would be more complicated to talk to, especially since she was mad at me over the tabloids.

I should see Kari first. She was my sister. I owed her an explanation or at least an apology.

But my mind wouldn’t let go of Grant and the words Maren had said. Grant Delray doesn't care about some little nobody from West Virginia. He likes Kari Kingsley. And no matter how much you look like her, you'll never be her.

I trudged down the street, feeling sicker with every footstep, then I called the one person who would understand how I felt: my mother. It was nearly eight p.m. in West Virginia. I tried to imagine what she was doing.

She picked up after a few rings. "Hello?”

"Mom, it’s Lexi. I want you to do something for me. Can you go to the bookcase in my bedroom?”

"Okay, just a second.” I heard her walk through the house. "All right, I'm here."

"Next to my journal there’s a magazine. I want you to pull it out and look at the guy on the cover.”

I heard her shuffling through books, then she let out a low breath. "Oh, qué guapo."

"Yeah, he’s gorgeous. We’ve been dating for a few weeks, and I’m totally in love with him."

Mom's voice rose with worry. "What do you mean when you say totally in love?"

"Totally, stupidly, can't think about anything else. But here's the thing: He thinks I’m Kari.” And then my voice cracked. It felt like I was reliving my mother’s life. "He only likes me because I look like someone else."