Jesse’s eyes are shining when I open the door.

“Howdy, partner,” she greets jauntily.

“Howdy? What’s with the cowboy talk?”

Instead of answering me, she grins, grabs my arm, and pulls me over to the mirror, positioning me in front of it. “What do you see?” she asks excitedly.

I don’t even want to see my reflection. I’m rocking the shadows under the eyes, deathly pale skin, and haunted blue eyes look. I turn away from the tragic sight. “Look, Jesse. I’m really not in the mood. What’s this about?”

Undeterred by my lackluster tone, she cups her palms on either side of my face and turns it back toward the mirror. “I see money.”

Frowning, I ask, “What?”

She leaves me standing at the mirror and goes toward my bed. Hopping on it, she sits cross-legged and pats the space in front of her. With a sigh, I go and sit opposite her.

“You know how everybody is always mistaking you for Tamara Honeywell?”

“Yeah,” I agree cautiously. Tamara Honeywell is a hotel heiress, famous for being infamous. I think she cut a record where her voice was compared to cats wailing, and she might also have starred in a Hollywood movie her father produced that flopped big time. She does a bit of modeling and has a clothing line but seems mostly to be photographed at parties and clubs looking wasted, or making out with perfect strangers. I don’t have the time to read gossip magazines, but there might also have been talk of a sex tape. So, it’s not exactly a compliment to be compared to her, and I can’t imagine why Jesse is so fired up.

Jesse leans forward eagerly. “Well, I had an idea, so two months ago, I secretly signed up as you on .”

I stare at her. “What the hell is Cinderella.com?”

She smiles proudly. “It’s a body double agency. Normal people who look like celebrities can impersonate them for a night or a day, feel like a star, and get paid for the pleasure. They have all kinds of doubles on their website. The Queen of England, Taylor Swift, Nicole Kidman. Are you getting the gist of what I’m saying?”

“Kind of, but I’m going to need a bit more.”

“Basically, I sent them your photo, as well as your height and weight, to be on their books as an impersonator for Tamara Honeywell. Two days ago, they contacted me because they need you to impersonate her for an entire month!”

My head starts swimming. I dare not believe. I stare at her silently.

“Guess how much this gig is worth?” she asks.

For her to be this excited it has to be…quite good. I shake my head.

She grins. “Five-hundred smackeroos a day plus expenses.”

My jaw drops. “Five-hundred dollars a day? For a whole month? Are you sure?”

“Abso-fricking-lutely,” she says with a laugh. “I’ve been emailing Mrs. Carter, the owner of the agency, for the last two days, but now she wants to connect on Skype to make sure the photos are not photoshopped and stuff.”

I open my mouth to ask her more about the job, but no sound comes out. My chin starts trembling, the backs of my eyes sting, and tears start rolling quickly down my face.

“Hey,” she soothes, hugging me. “Don’t cry, Cass. Please don’t cry. It’ll be all right, I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” I sob. “It’s just the relief. You can’t imagine what it’s been like. I’ve been so frightened. I didn’t know what to do, Jesse. Mr. Tanner is planning to kick me out on Sunday, and I’m behind with my loan payment, which they’ve just doubled again. I’ve already paid them everything I borrowed, but the figure never seems to go down. There’s always interest and penalties being added for no damned reason. It’s starting to feel as if I’ll never be able to pay it off. I’m already working two jobs, and though I’m trying really hard to find another, it’s been impossible to find something that I can fit around the other two.”

Jesse pulls away and gazes at me. “Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was?”

I shake my head. “What could you have done?”

“To start, you can stop being such a dork and move in with me. Our couch is very comfortable and you can sleep there.”

I wipe my tears with the backs of my hands. “I’m not going to sleep on your couch, Jesse. It wouldn’t be fair to Adam.”

“Adam won’t mind.”

I sniff and shake my head. “Jesse, you live in a one-bedroom apartment. Of course, Adam will mind. Who wants to have someone living on their couch?”

“Anyway, we don’t need to worry about that anymore, do we? Let’s just get you this job and see where we go from there, okay?”

“Tell me more about the job. What will I be doing for a month?”

Jesse grins widely. “You’ll be learning to ride a horse on a ranch in Montana.”

I look at her in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope.”

“I’m going to be impersonating Tamara Honeywell for a month on a ranch in Montana?”

“Yep.”

I open my hands, palms up. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Mrs. Carter said she can only give more information once you’ve signed a Non-Disclosure Agreement.”

“Me on a ranch in Montana. Pretending to be Tamara Honeywell. Riding a horse. It’s just…surreal.”

“I’m thinking breakfast with cowboys,” she says, rubbing her hands like some evil witch in a Disney cartoon. “Mmm…sausages.”

I start giggling and so does she.

“Speaking of sausages, Bacon Belly told me we could come to some arrangement over my rent.”

Her warm brown eyes flash with disgust. “Ew. Thanks a bunch for that. Now I need to go flush my brain out with bleach.” She wrinkles her nose with disgust. “It’s practically pedophilia. What a dirty dickwad. I hope you told him what he could do with his wrinkly old thing.”

“I didn’t. I was too shocked, actually.”

“I’ll give him a piece of my mind the next time that—”

For a second, I stop hearing the torrent of abuse spewing out of her mouth and see only her kind, sweet face. I say a silent prayer to God for sending her to me. Now that Dad can barely recognize me, she’s all I’ve got. Jesse and I met in ninth grade. She was lousy at math and I helped her with it. We’ve been best friends ever since.

“Thank you, Jesse,” I say, my voice breaking with all the emotions swirling in my body.

“Stop being weird, Cass. I love to do things for you, but you’re always so damned independent you won’t accept even the slightest bit of help.”

I reach for a tissue from the box by the bedside and blow my nose.

“Anyway,” she adds, “I’m so happy this job’s come up for you. It’s about time you got a break in your shitty life.”

I hug her tightly. “I love you.”

“Break my ribs, why don’t you?”