“How so?” Fangli accepts the tea Mei brings out and I breathe in the delicate flowery aroma. It’s not jasmine or chrysanthemum so I sniff again. Maybe chamomile. Mei reminds Fangli of her personal trainer appointment in the morning, picks up my abandoned wig without comment, and leaves.
I sit cautiously on a chair, not wanting to tear a seam in my dress. “I was worried people would come talk to me,” I say.
“That happens occasionally, but most people are respectful, particularly in your country.”
“Some aren’t?”
She looks at me over the cup before she places it back on the table. “I’m not a person to them. I’m an object, a product. Commodities don’t have feelings or emotions.”
“Ah.” I don’t know what to say. My last boyfriend had a verbal code for these situations, where you have to acknowledge the issue but don’t have a productive comment. I dust it off and deploy. “That’s rough. How do you feel about that?”
“It’s upsetting.” Fangli smiles. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Asking. Understanding. Not telling me I should be grateful, that it’s my duty to be seen and let fans come to me. That it comes with the territory of being rich and famous and I knew what I signed up for when I started acting.”
I think about this. Even for a movie star, it’s not right. “You need space to be yourself.”
“I wonder who that is at times,” she says softly. Then she shakes her shoulders like a wet dog and puts her tea down. “Tell me about your day.”
“Well, I mostly slept.” I grimace. “Sorry, didn’t mean to rub that in.”
“I’m only a bit jealous. The dinner?”
“Oh, incredible.” I describe the food in excruciating detail until I notice her confused expression. “What?”
“I meant with Sam. Was he…” She searches for a word.
“I can handle it.”
Fangli eyes me sympathetically. “I’m sorry he’s being difficult,” she says. “I’ll talk to him.”
“No, we’ve figured it out. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
She nods. “Thank you.” When she closes her eyes, her entire face draws in and grows tight.
“Tired?” I ask. I go to the fridge and grab two cans of seltzer. According to Mei, Fangli only drinks out of glass, so I open the cabinet.
“The can is fine.” She reaches out and plucks it from my hand.
“Mei said glass only.”
Fangli holds the can to the side of her throat to enjoy the cold before opening it. It leaves a faint red mark on her skin. “I don’t care, to be honest. The image consultant said it was better because it was more sophisticated.”
“Image consultant?” I can guess the point from the name but it seems utterly unnecessary.
She grins at me. “I see her every six months. She was trained as a futurist.”
This is intriguing. “What does she tell you?”
Fangli tilts the can to drink in gulps. “It’s quite an experience. I enjoy it.”
“She dresses you?”
“Not for that money.” Fangli laughs. “She comes in for half a day, and we talk about world events and trends she sees. She works with CEOs mostly.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I need to be exactly a little ahead. Not too much and not behind.”
“How?” I’m puzzled. “How do you do that?”
“Training.” She shrugs. “Plus at this point, I create trends. If I cut my hair like yours, you would see a spike in that look globally in the next three months, beginning with specific demographic segments in Asian urban centers before spreading out to Western and European cities. Advertisers map out my brand reach and potential for market penetration before they sign me to promote their products.”
“Whoa.” She says that like it’s no biggie but it hits me that being Fangli is a multimillion-dollar business. This must be why Sam is so worried; there’s a lot of money at stake if I screw up. No pressure.
“I try not to think about it.” She beams. “Now tell me about what you’d be doing if you weren’t here.”
“Like, if I had a real job that wasn’t pretending to be you?” I think of Todd and shiver. My fear of him… Wait. Fear? Was I scared of him? It’s such a big word, more suited to a life-or-death situation than his kind of garden-variety assholeness, but the word sits right. I’d been scared, but to be honest, it wasn’t only Todd’s actions but my own reactions that frightened me. I’d freeze when he approached me. What did that say about me that I didn’t stop him?