Déjà Vu

∙Cat∙

My proper, reserved Renaissance cousin is decked out in jeans, Chucks, and a fitted Henley. A faux barbed wire strap is slung around his chest, attached to a modern guitar (a style not yet invented in his time), and the only thing I can think is, it’s finally happened. Blinking repeatedly doesn’t change a thing. Cip remains standing there, my mom right beside him, with the paparazzi closing in. I nod with a laugh that I belatedly realize sounds a little manic.

I’ve officially lost my mind.

Cipriano pokes his tongue in the pocket of his cheek, staring at me in a way that clearly says he agrees, and that’s what snaps me out of it.

“What are you… How are you…?” I shake my head and wet my lips, then lift my hands at the craziness of it all. “Did Reyna send you?”

With an indecipherable glance at Caterina, he says, “I don’t think I’ve met Reyna yet.”

I squint, confused, wondering how he got here if not for my favorite gypsy girl—and then his voice registers. His deep, melodic, with a hint of southern twang modern voice, and my confusion doubles by a thousand. Why is he talking like that? And how did he learn contractions so quickly? Alessandra still struggles with sounding stilted, and she’s been here six weeks!

Lucas nudges my arm, subtly clueing me in that I’m gawking like a crazy person. I look around, grateful for the lenses shielding my dazed squint, and quickly pull myself together. At least on the outside. Inside, possibilities are bursting in my mind like mini-explosions. My first thought is that Cipriano is “pulling a Cat,” pretending to be someone else, just like I did during my trip to the sixteenth century…

Only, the more I stare at this guy, the less likely that theory becomes.

First, the dude in front of me is way too comfortable in his skin. Too confident. Sure, Cipriano Angeli was, too, but more in the cool, aloof, boy-next-door, Renaissance hottie sort of way. The brooding musician vibe this guy is rocking takes it to a whole different level. Which leads me to my second point—the guitar pick in his hand. It’s not clutched awkwardly, like some random, futuristic prop, the way Alessandra held pens or well, just about anything when she first arrived. This guy’s holding his pick like it’s an extension of him. Familiar. Reassuring. Which can only mean…

Another freaking doppelganger.

“And the name’s Ransom,” my cousin’s body double says, emphasizing his name. Correcting me for my public slipup. He holds out a large, calloused hand and adds, “But my friends call me Rance.”

Still shocked out of my Louboutins, I do the only thing I can do. I take his hand in mine and watch as a grin curls my alleged brother’s lips. Or my alleged half brother’s lips, since there’s no way on earth we share a dad. Dad loves me to death, of that I have no doubt, but I’ve suffered through enough pitch and catch sessions and football games to know he’s always wanted a son, too. If Ransom were his, Dad would’ve been all over it.

But there’s also no denying we’re related. Not with that smile. It might not be huge and open like Cipriano’s when he first introduced me to his best friend, or even soft and lighthearted like it was during our day in the countryside. Ransom’s grin is a simple lip twitch. But the light in his eyes, the slightly crooked mouth, the way it totally transforms his face… It’s an undeniable echo of my cousin.

Hayley is going to go utterly gaga over this guy.

And Less will flip her pancake.

“I know who you are,” Rance says, taking back his hand and shoving it in the pocket of his low-slung jeans. “When I found out I had a sister, I Googled you.”

Great. Considering the highlight reel that’s out there, courtesy of the paparazzi, who knows what he unearthed. Or what opinion he’s formed of me. The tabloids make up their own truth about who I am, who my family is, and the pictures that sell best are always the most embarrassing. A particularly unflattering shot of me—busting my ass sprawled-eagle-style during a recent family jaunt to the skating rink—springs to mind, and I wince in mortification.

Lucas, ever my protector, and unfortunately, not a party to the inner workings of my mind, stiffens beside me. “Yeah, well, Cat didn’t get a heads up about you at all.”

One scandalicious tidbit, courtesy of dear old mom, is enough for this outing.

“Ransom, this is my boyfriend, Lucas. You have to excuse us if we’re overly sensitive, things are just happening kinda fast.” I squeeze Lucas’s clenched hands and add, “He’s just looking out for me.”

Behind me, Lucas’s chest expands with a breath, and he presses a kiss against my hair.

“Don’t sweat it.” Rance shoulders his duffle bag and rocks back on his heels. “This isn’t easy for any of us.” His lips pull down after he says it, and almost as if we’re sharing a brain, we both turn to Caterina, watching as she flashes another smile at the cameras.

Then again…

“Maybe we should take this reunion somewhere more private,” I suggest. When the woman who gave me birth fails to respond, I raise my voice an octave and say, “Mom?”

The title gets her attention.

Swinging that mega smile in our direction, she says, “Of course. A nice, quiet family lunch would be best.”

I squint, realizing she had been listening all along, and ponder that nugget as she surveys the crowd.

With a snap of her fingers at a tall man with shaggy blond hair standing a few feet away, she calls, “Bags!”

Beckoned, her appointed minion hops to, rolling over a silver cart filled to the brim with luggage. Caterina ducks down, checking to ensure he got everything, and I can’t help thinking, This is probably her packing light.

Ransom shakes his head with a notable look of disgust and then catches my eye. After holding my gaze for a moment, he grins at me again.

I don’t know if it’s because he looks so much like my cousin, whom I miss like crazy, or if that mythical sibling bond is an actual thing—but I return it. The needy, abandoned little girl inside me wants to be angry that he’s here. That he’s stealing my thunder. But I’m not. I’m not even mad at Caterina. This whole day feels like it’s happening to someone else, a crazy drama on the CW that no one would ever believe could be true. My life is one big teenage soap opera, and Ransom Chase is the new ratings-boosting plot twist.

At least the casting department got it right.

“All right then.” Apparently satisfied, Caterina steps away from the cart with a nod, yanking me back to reality. She flings her long chestnut hair over her shoulder and says, “Who’s hungry?”

…

Nice, quiet, family lunch. Those words mock me as we sit at the world-famous restaurant, The Ivy. Honestly, the place itself is quaint. A cute cottage with white picket fences and friendly umbrellas on the outside and homey knickknacks on the inside. That’s where we are, away from that legendary patio surrounded by cameras. But I know the paparazzi are lurking. Circling the place like hungry sharks. Waiting for a time to attack.

Thanks to Caterina’s latest scandal bomb at the airport, the crowd that’s been following us has doubled. Also, her phone hasn’t stopped ringing, which has made our nice, quiet reunion more like an awkward, disjointed, three-ring circus.

In between answering calls from reporters, publicists, and agents, she does at least give us the 411 on how Rance came to be…and why I never knew it. During my mother’s first bit role, it would appear she fell in love with a handsome, up and coming costar—a pattern she actually continues to this day, only this time, she ended up preggo. Of course, Caterina didn’t realize it until a month later, after the romance had fizzled and filming had wrapped. Young and alone in L.A., her celebrity star rising, Caterina decided it would be best for Rance if she quietly placed him up for adoption.

A look about the table confirms we all agree who it was best for. Her. But even knowing that, it’s hard to argue with the results. Had wolves ended up adopting and raising my half brother, he still would’ve been better off. At least he was spared the melodrama that’s been my life the last sixteen years.

Three years after all of that went down, Mom met Dad, upgrading to sleeping with the assistant director. Thus began my glorious entry into the world. This time Caterina actually told the father, even chose to stick around for a little while…but I think we all knew that had more to do with Dad, his career, and the roles he helped her get than it had to do with me. She doesn’t say as much, but it’s not hard to read between the lines.

The thing that confuses me is the adoption itself. It was open. Other than claiming she’d checked up on him a few times, Caterina didn’t go out of her way to be maternal and she never reached out. But she left the option open for him to do so. Why? It makes my mind whirl. Every time I think I get a read on my mother, she does something out of character. Unexpected. She sells me out on television, brings a media circus to the airport—but she came. She’s here. She gave up my brother with hardly a backward glance—but she didn’t shut him out completely. Wouldn’t that have been easier?

Who is Caterina Angeli exactly?

“Now that we’re all together again,” Caterina says, snapping me back to attention, “I’d really like for us to become a family.” She tips a glass of wine to her full lips and then plays with the tapered stem as she swallows. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she looks nervous. “I know I haven’t been the best mother in the world, to either of you, but I want to change that. Maybe the three of us can—” Her cell phone blows up again, cutting off her pretty speech. She glances at the display, looks torn for a moment, then raises a finger and says, “Hold that thought.”

Lucas grunts under his breath as she answers the call. He’s been silent the whole time, other than giving the waiter his order. I squeeze his hand, silently thanking him again for being here with me, and turn to my new brother. Like Lucas, he hasn’t spoken much since we sat down, other than a few monosyllabic responses. Apparently, he reached his word limit at the airport. “So…music, huh?”

His green and black speckled guitar pick continues its seamless, fluid transition from one knuckle to the next. “Yep.”

O-kay. Not much to go on, and still one syllable. But hey, it’s something.

Don’t ask me why I care or why I feel the need to drag him into a conversation. I don’t know why. I just do. Life dealt me a crappy pair of cards for sure, but at least I had Dad.

Did Rance have anyone?

That thought has me scooting my chair forward. “What kind do you play?” I’d rather ask about his adoptive family—are they nice, does he have a good home, any siblings—but figure it’s best to start small.

He shrugs. “Eclectic. I like grunge, alternative…nineties rock, like Sublime and Pearl Jam. I also dig the classics. Jeff Beck, Jerry Garcia…” He trails off with a shrug, like those names are self-explanatory.

“Awesome,” I enthuse, even though I don’t have a clue. Those names mean nothing to me. I’m 99 percent sure Ben and Jerry’s has an ice cream flavor named after the last dude, but that’s apparently the extent of my eclectic music knowledge.

My boyfriend, on the other hand, suddenly leans his elbows on the table. “Nice taste,” he says. I look over to see his lips pressed together as though he’s suddenly interested in our conversation. “Do you have a band at home?” he asks. “An agent?”

“No agent.” As he says this, the waiter places the check at our table and Caterina, still on the phone, rolls her eyes and points to the shaggy blond at the table behind us. “I have a few guys I gig with, but nothing too structured.”

Ransom leans back to pocket his guitar pick, and I elbow Lucas in the ribs. “I know what you’re doing,” I whisper.

Sliding his arm behind my chair, he whispers back, “Just looking out for my girl.”

The warmth in his eyes makes my heart melt, even as I heave a sigh. Doesn’t he grasp that we’re already on this runaway train? All we can do now is hold on and see where the crazy takes us. I’m not saying that discovering I have a brother isn’t freaky as all get out. It is. But it’s not like it’s Rance’s fault. If anything, he has more of a reason to be angry with me. I’ve known who my mother is my entire life. Yeah, she ditched me with a quickness, but she left him at birth.

And to be honest, as life changing as it is having Ransom here, he does alleviate some of the pressure. I’m still determined to get answers, but Caterina Angeli in the flesh is a lot to take. For now, I’m totally cool with baby steps.

“And where’s home?” I ask, not ready to give up yet.

“Houston,” he answers.

That explains the twang.

“Do you have a girlfriend there?”

Lucas lifts an eyebrow, and I pull a face, elbowing him again. He’s only teasing, but seriously, ew. I’m not crushing on my half brother. This isn’t Jerry Springer. I’m just trying to get to know Ransom better…and maybe doing a little fact-finding for Hayley.

“Nope.”

Before I can ask anything else, Caterina ends her call. Rance stretches his arms over his head, sneaks a peek at our mother’s minion, and then cranes his neck toward the entrance. “So what’s the plan to get out of here?”

Sliding her phone into her purse, Mom wrinkles her smooth brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

The three of us look at her like she’s deranged. She can’t be serious. But when she continues staring back with complete curiosity, I realize she is. Oh, good Lord.

A migraine begins mounting behind my eye sockets. “The paparazzi have to be even worse by now,” I explain. “Isn’t this their home away from home?”

Which is why this is the last place on earth I’d ever come if given the choice. Don’t get me wrong, the food’s great. But crowds, attention, expectations…that’s my trifecta of nightmares. My goal in life is to blend. Hard to do when your parents are famous, but with Dad’s weirdo rules and cling to normalcy, it hasn’t been impossible. Blending with Caterina Angeli around, however, is a joke.

Mom waves her hand in the air. “Most of them are harmless if you give them what they want. The world is just excited to get to know my kids; that’s all. We’ll simply go out there, smile, and let them take their pictures while the valet brings the car around.” She shrugs her dainty shoulders. “It’ll be fine.”

She nods at the blond dude, a signal of some sort, and he taps his knuckle on our table en route to the hostess stand. I desperately hope he’s asking to have our car brought around. Caterina pushes to her feet, tucks her chair back under the table, and then looks at the three of us expectantly. Evidently, this portion of the day is over.

“Well, this was a lovely first lunch,” she says as we grab our things. Another one of Caterina’s minions whisked most of their luggage to the hotel earlier, but Rance had refused to part with his guitar. As he slings the strap around his chest, our mother says, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve requested a cab to take Ransom and me back to the hotel. It’s been an eventful day, and I need to lie down.”

“Oh,” I say, making a face. When did she request that? Whenever she wasn’t on the phone, she was talking with us, filling us in on our sordid past.

Had this been the plan all along? To eat and ditch? So much for reconnecting.

Honestly, though, today has been a day of revelations. And a roller coaster of emotions. Second-guessing myself, trying to get a handle on my mother, probing for info with my brother. I’ve had just about all that I can take. Getting space to decompress sounds great…but knowing she wants the same stings like crazy.

I pull on my familiar plastic smile, not wanting to let on that I’m upset. That would show weakness, something I swore I’d never do around her. “Of course,” I say. “When will I see you again?”

Crap, did that sound too eager?

My mother smiles as she slides her mega purse on her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.” She chuckles like I’m being daft, and I wrinkle my eyebrows. “At the wedding, remember?”

Oh yeah. That.

In light of the world discovering the details, and then parking themselves on our front lawn, it’s no big secret that Dad’s wedding is in limbo. Right along with Jenna’s diet. When I caught her scarfing a thick slab of fudge last night, she just shrugged. “Times like these demand chocolate,” she said.

There’s no arguing with that logic.

“Actually,” I say, “Dad and Jenna postponed it.”

Caterina’s smile fractures as color leeches from her face. I watch, wide-eyed, as she reels back and then grasps her chair for support. “What?”

Silence.

The quiet din of conversation, the clank of utensils around us, ceases.

We’re the center of attention. Again.

Patrons of The Ivy are used to hobnobbing celebrities. Bigwigs come here all the time; it’s part of the restaurant’s charm. But familiarity didn’t stop the subtle stares and whispers those patrons had been casting in our direction for the last hour. Caterina Angeli is on a different level, I guess. Especially with the gossip bombs she’s dropped during the last twenty-four hours. The Kardashian family has nothing on her. But now that she’s made a spectacle, she’s declared open season.

Cell phones whip out, pictures snap, and excited murmurs rise. All while Caterina’s eyes flash with emotion. What emotion I couldn’t say, because sadly my own mother is a stranger, one even more confusing than yesterday. But the woman who exudes assurance and works the cameras like a supermodel is gone.

I turn to exchange gobsmacked looks with my boyfriend and new brother. Of course, they’re dudes, so they’re zero help, but it’s not as if this is exactly my territory, either. I don’t do emotions well. Before Jenna and Alessandra, I didn’t do them at all. This girly stuff is still new for me. Am I supposed to offer her a hug or defend my dad’s decision?

Reyna really should’ve given me an instruction manual.

Thankfully, Caterina pulls herself together on her own. The Hollywood smile returns as she glances about the room and asks in a gentler voice, “When did that happen?” Followed quickly with, “And why?”

She wants to know why? Either my mother is fishing for intel or she really is as self-involved as I’d always imagined. She was married to my dad; shouldn’t she know how private he is?

True anger, for the first time since catching her on The Kate Lyons Show, boils under my skin. You can mess with me all you want, but I’m a daddy’s girl. He’s the one person I’ve always been able to count on. Indignation on his behalf churns in my gut, and before I can check it, I spit out, “Last night. After the details were leaked on national television and Dad came home to forty-seven bloodsuckers harassing his family for a quick buck.”

My mother winces at my sharp tone. Lucas snorts. And Ransom snaps his fingers.

“Time to jet,” my half brother says, and before I can wonder if my response came out too harsh, I’m yanked from the table. Rance nods as Lucas steers me toward the exit, toward the chaos we only recently escaped. And away from my shell-shocked mother and patrons who are no doubt tweeting as we speak.

I slide on my sunglasses seconds before we step outside. Even with the dark lenses, I feel exposed when I see how large the crowd has grown. With my yummy lobster ravioli considering a comeback, I look to Lucas, who points beyond the cameras to his shiny black car idling near the curb. Thank God.

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod, unable to speak, and we run for it, dashing through the packed patio and out through the white picket fence. On principle, I never dash. That, along with emotions, is a sign of weakness, and I prefer acting as though the cameras and attention don’t bother me. But at this point, no one’s buying that anyway. Even if they did, I no longer care. I just want out.

Jack is waiting dutifully at the sidewalk, and with the help of his team, they push the paparazzi aside. Lucas throws open the passenger door, and I scoot my butt in, locking eyes with Ransom just before the door closes. With the yells, questions, and general nuttiness around him, he looks lost. Lonely. And a bit curious.

Strange that I can read him so well, when I can’t do the same with my own mother.

I lift my hand in a wave as Lucas jumps in on his side. Most of the cameras are tracking Caterina, so they flock to the cab behind us, giving us an easy exit. As Lucas peels away from the curb, I turn in my seat, and watch as Rance raises his hand in good-bye.