Impossible Glamour (3 page)

“I don’t wear granny panties.”

“Not a thong though, right? I’d never peg you for a thong type of girl. Maybe briefs, and high cut if you have to go formal. But a thong?” I shook my head.

“Webber, I’m not discussing my underwear with you.”

“See, babe, that’s where we are completely different, okay? I say panties and you say underwear. One creates a joie de vivre where feminine undergarments are concerned, and the other? Just makes me think of my great-grandmother.”

“Webber, the fact that you think of your grandmother’s underwear? That is problematic. I have the name of a couple of good therapists if you think you’re having an Oedipal problem.”

“Ha! Babe, I
have
a therapist. How do you think I function under the pressure and don’t crack like a pheasant egg? I may be a pain in your ass, but I’m not crazy. But thanks, babe, thanks for the offer. So if we can’t talk panties, tell me what else has you worked up?”

“There’s Choo’s wedding in a week and Sophia’s wedding this summer and I have my residency match. Just stress—you wouldn’t understand,” she mumbled.

“Ellen, doll, again you are totally ruining my flow. Just how much of a dog do you think I am? I totally admit what I like, but I’m not completely bereft of human empathy.”

Ellen tilted her head as though the thought that I had empathy, much less was human, hadn’t ever entered her mind. I got it—okay, I was wealthy, successful, and an agent. All the stereotypes applied. I reveled in them. Bevy of babes? Bring. It. Give me the convertible, the hot blonde, both four-legged and two, and a house in the hills. Vapid parties in all the right clubs? I owned it. Life was GOOD. But you couldn’t ride the self-indulgent narcissistic wave your whole life. Right? I’d already had the realization with my mom that damn, life didn’t go down covered in awesome-sauce all the time.

I finished my beer and put the empty in recycling. My personal life was personal. I let my needs hang out full front and center, but my heart? Sounded crazy, but agents did have hearts. There were parts of mine that I didn’t share with anyone. Ever.

“I’ve been doing charity work since before I got my stripes at CTA. Even when I was at UCLA.”

“You?” Ellen squinted. “
You
went to UCLA? I would have pegged you for a USC man. What with the film thing and all.”

“You’re killing me. Again, I say ouch. These assumptions you’re making wound me. Truly they do.” I reached out my hand. “Pass me another.”

“Who’s driving?” Ellen asked before she pulled a beer from the fridge.

“The guy with the hat and the town car outside. Speaking of, where in the hell is your father? We have got to hit the road. The traffic will
suck
on the way to Westwood.” I turned toward the hall. “Yo, Steve. Man, we have got to roll.”

Ellen handed me a beer. Her fingertips touched mine and another zingy teased Big Boy in my pants. Whoa. I was thrilling for a Legend dressed as a bag lady? No bueno. Her eyes met mine. Damn. Even with the Coke-bottle glasses, they were some hot-damn almond-shaped brown eyes. I clasped the bottle and she jerked her hand away from the glass.

“I’m surprised Steve-o didn’t invite you to this charity event tonight. He usually trots out the big guns when it’s the real deal.”

“Big guns? What the hell are you talking about, Webber?”

“You know, the smart kid. The one who can hold a conversation about something other than lyrics or Instagram. The brainiac on speed.” I smiled. “The
truly
talented Legend.”

The corner of Ellen’s mouth lifted but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Why not? She should be happy that her dad thought of her as smart. The girl had graduated magna from UCLA and then immediately started med school. The odds against? Staggering.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know that the great Steve Legend brags on you all the time.”

Her body shifted in her seat, and Ellen dropped her gaze. Again with the hint of pink flushing those cheeks. Of course not. Steve Legend didn’t give compliments. He certainly didn’t give compliments
to
his children. He might brag on them in their absence, but never in their presence. Not the Legend way. I leaned forward. The space between Ellen and me narrowed. Mint? Mint and…lavender. Damn. Did she smell like mint and lavender even with the ripped-up jeans?

I lowered my voice. Big Boy was very attentive. “He does. He brags about how smart you are and how you’re going to save the entire world or at the very least invent a cure for cancer or end world hunger or some shit like that.”

Another smile.

Zowie went Big Boy. What?

Ellen was nearly beautiful when she smiled. Even without the makeup and in the bag lady clothes, her hair all pulled up into a messy ponytail on her head.

Heat thrilled through my chest. Lavender. Damn mint and lavender. Our eyes locked. I pulled back and leaned against the counter.

“You ready for next weekend?” I asked.

“And that is one of the reasons that I need to talk to Daddy. He promised to call the band.”

“Who is it?”

“Maroon 5. Adam said he’d play, but it’s not confirmed. Choo asked Daddy to—”

“Consider it done.”

“Really?”

I nodded.

“Thank you, Webber. I was afraid I’d have to go round and round and round with Daddy over this one.”

“No worries, babe. It’s what I do. Take care of everyone’s needs.” I cocked my eyebrow and wiggled it. “Including my own.”

Ellen stood and tipped her head to the side. “Just when I think you’re halfway human, you say something borderline.” She walked toward the door. “Bye, Webber. Tell Daddy I was here.”

“What, doll? How do I offend?” I called after her. “I gave you what you wanted. Didn’t I? Took care of you?”

She was already down the stairs and out the door. Good thing too, because Ellen Legend was not my speed and not the fish I wanted to fry. Hells to the no. I’d take the brainless lovelies for good-time fun, because a female like Ellen was a forever-after type of woman. And forever was not the type of woman that was on my menu for now.

Ellen

I dashed up the staircase at Children’s Hospital. Just because Kazowski had destroyed my dream didn’t mean I could blow off my rotation. I was late and Kazowski would be pissed. Regardless of our meeting and what she’d said to me, I was still expected to be a responsible third-year. That I’d been at the hospital since six a.m. running labs and trying to get everything ready for patients and rounds didn’t matter to Kazowski. What mattered was that residents and med students were on time. My phone read 8:03. Showing up late for rounds was a glaring mistake for which I was certain I’d pay.

I burst through the doors on the third floor and skidded to a halt. Kazowski had a cadre of residents, and four of my med school classmates stood in a semicircle around her as she prepared to round. Her gaze focused on me and irritation tightened her mouth.

“Ah, Miss Legend, so glad you could join us.”

All eyes turned to me. I wanted to drop through the floor. As a third-year med student, I was meant to be on time, be quiet, take good notes, and do whatever any person higher up the totem pole, which was everyone except for the other four third-years, told me to do. Which was why I was late. I’d been trying to get labs back sooner than expected so that I might get a “good job” instead of the swift kick in the ass Kazowski was about to deliver.

“Perhaps being a
Legend
makes you special in the world of models, rock stars, and actors, but in here, behind
these
walls, you are just another third-year trying to get a residency.”

My heart tumbled to my toes. One of the residents on my right snickered. I might vomit. Was I supposed to respond? I didn’t think so.

Kazowski crossed her arms over her white lab coat. Her right eyebrow cocked upward almost as though she were daring me to make a comment.

“Don’t be late for rounds again. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Doctor.” I forced my gaze to remain fixed to Dr. Kazowski. I wanted to look away or run down the hall and duck into a broom closet. Invisibility, a power I’d desired since childhood, would be particularly helpful now.

Kazowski’s words stabbed my heart. I wasn’t like my family. She’d said so herself; I wasn’t special the way my family was special. I wasn’t a superstar, a musician, or a model. I didn’t have an eye for art or film. What I was, and had always been, was smart and hardworking. Those two qualities were the only things I had going for me, and now she’d told me that those weren’t enough. I was
indecisive.
Too academic. Cerebral. All that I’d defined myself by were now bad things, hindering my progress.

I pushed my glasses up my nose and stepped behind one of the taller residents. I followed the herd of doctors and med students down the hall. For the next three hours I took notes, answered the questions directed at me, and then when Kazowski walked out of the final patient room, a huge sigh exited my lungs.

I pressed my hand to my forehead and leaned against the wall.

“She can be such a bitch.”

I turned and the tall resident I’d tried to hide behind, Mike or Morgan or—what was his name?—stood beside me.

“I’m Mike.” He moved closer. “Looks like she’s going to ride your ass for the entire rotation.”

“You have no idea.”

“She picks one med student every rotation. Usually it’s someone she thinks is particularly gifted. Take it as a compliment.”

“Kazowski doesn’t think I’m gifted. Believe me.” I dropped my gaze to the floor. Cute men didn’t usually pick me to talk to. “But thanks.”

“You’re—”

“Ellen Legend.” I forced myself not to mumble my last name. My entire childhood I hadn’t even used Legend but had gone by Mom’s name, Delgado.

I closed my eyes and exhaled. Here it comes… “You’re the daughter of Steve Legend” or “the sister of Rhett Legend, the rock star” or “the sister of Sophia Legend, the supermodel.”

“—first in your class, right?”

I smiled. Heat flamed my cheeks “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I am. How’d you know?”

“Rotation before you. Some of the med students discussed how this Ellen Legend had to either have a photographic memory or a microchip implanted in her head to be
that
smart.”

“No,” I brushed hair from my forehead and tucked a strand behind my ear. “I just study a lot. A whole lot.”

Mike nodded. “If you’re first in your class, you must.” His phone beeped and he pulled it from his pocket and started backing down the hall. “See you on Monday?”

“Oh, I’m here. For the next three months.”

“Great.” Mike flashed me a bright smile. “Knowing I’ll see you on Monday will make my weekend call a whole lot better.”

My heartbeat kicked up a notch. Was Mike…
flirting
with me? I turned toward the elevators and walked down the hall. No. That couldn’t be true…I wasn’t the twin good-looking, muscular doctors with white-toothed smiles and well-defined cheekbones flirted with. I was the twin who stayed home for homecoming and prom. Not that I’d minded…much. I was the twin from whom cute boys asked to borrow notes and homework. My sister was the twin who got dates and phone calls and texts and secret admirers. I didn’t have good-looking tall residents smiling at me. Did I? My phone beeped and I looked down. A text from Choo reminding me I was to meet him at the bridal shop later that day.

I rushed away from the elevators and toward the stairs. There were a zillion things I needed to accomplish before I could leave the hospital for the day and then a zillion more between now and Choo’s wedding.

*

“Wait, I don’t understand. So you’re saying that this Mike person was speaking to you about how he’d be thinking about you this weekend and you don’t know whether he was flirting?” Choo glanced from me to my half sister, Amanda.

A tiny smile curled over Amanda’s face. She stood on the pedestal in her bridesmaid gown. Her lush dark hair fell in a wave down her back. The periwinkle gown looked good against her ultrafair skin.

Discussing Mike, the good-looking resident, seemed a whole lot easier than confessing that Kazowski, in one conversation, had harpooned my dream of becoming a surgeon.

“I don’t have a whole lot of practice with men, okay?” I flopped back against the white cushions on the couch. “I’ve sacrificed a lot of dating time to get where I am.” I still wore my green scrubs and a pair of Dansko clogs. My gaze swept a room filled with gowns that cost more than most cars. Okay, maybe I should have at least thrown on some jeans and a pair of flats. I crossed my arms over my chest and pulled at a hangnail on my thumb.

“You should be proud of your dedication,” Amanda said. “There’s always time for men.”

While my half sister meant her words as a compliment, they stung. I’d postponed so much
living
to get to my goal.

“Never
enough
time if you ask me.” Choo walked around Amanda, who wore the strapless dress Choo had selected for all his bridesmaids. This was the final fitting for me and Amanda. Sophia’s bridesmaid gown had been shipped to Paris, where she was doing a shoot. Lane, Choo’s sister-in-law, was on-set with Dillon, her husband, for another three days. The men in the wedding party, according to Choo, were easy as they already each had their own black tux.

“Are we happy with this?” Choo appraised Amanda from top to toe.

Amanda turned and ran her hand over the front of the gown. “I love it. Classic, beautiful, feminine. The color is amazing.”

“Doesn’t hurt that one of the most beautiful women in the world is wearing the dress,” Choo said.

I pushed my glasses up my nose. Beautiful. My sisters were beautiful. What was I? Smart.

“Okay, Ellen, your turn. Go put on that gown.” Choo poured two glasses of champagne.

I shivered. Dresses? Not my thing. I stood as though heading to the gallows.

“Come on, Ellen, I know you’re going to look good in this dress. I’ve already been told so by two seamstresses.”

In the dressing room, the seamstress helped me into the gown for my final fitting. I didn’t want to look in the mirror. My body…was identical to my twin sister’s, but somehow I’d never grown comfortable inhabiting my curves. While Sophia exuded a sensual grace, I just looked like an uncomfortable fourteen-year-old playing dress-up.