Danielle Steel: The Apartment

“Sasha said she’d be here by now, but she just called to say she got stuck at work. Some woman is delivering. I don’t know why she didn’t pick a better specialty, like plastic surgery.”

“Face-lifts sound even more disgusting than childbirth,” Claire said honestly, and poured herself a glass of the wine. Valentina had blithely opened one of their best bottles of white wine, although most of the time she preferred champagne. She was spoiled by the men she went out with, all of whom had vast amounts of money, and most of whom were twice her age, and dazzled by her. It was hard not to be, and she had all the habits of a spoiled brat, which Sasha didn’t. All the roommates loved Sasha, and put up with Valentina. Sometimes she was funny, but none of them would have wanted to live with her. Nor did Sasha. Valentina had driven her crazy while they were growing up, although they still had the close relationship typical of twins.

Valentina then wandered into Sasha’s bedroom and came out a few minutes later, wearing a very pretty skirt Claire hadn’t seen her roommate wear all year. Valentina helped herself to whatever she wanted, always, and never asked her sister’s permission.

“She’ll never have time to wear this,” Valentina said to Claire as she sat down and poured herself another glass of wine. “It looks better on me anyway. She’s losing weight from working too hard. Everything hangs on her.” Claire could detect no difference in their weight, or anything else about them, except the smile.

They chatted for a little while, and then Valentina went back to reading Vogue, and half an hour later Sasha walked in, and was surprised to see her sister wearing her skirt. “What are you doing wearing that?” She didn’t look happy about it, and Sasha seemed like she was in a hurry.

“You never wear it, I’ll just borrow it for a few days.” And then forget to give it back, Sasha thought to herself. Their father had sent it to her from one of his stores in Atlanta, it was by a well-known designer, and he knew she never had time to shop for clothes. Valentina had no problem buying clothes for herself, or taking what she wanted from her sister. And she got a lot of the clothes she modeled after the shoots.

“Dad sent it to me,” Sasha told her, as though that made the skirt meaningful to her. Valentina shrugged. She didn’t get along with their father and didn’t like his second wife and made no secret of it. “I’m going out,” Sasha said to her sister, as Valentina settled back onto the couch, wearing the borrowed skirt.

“Back to work?”

“I have a date,” Sasha said, embarrassed. “I forgot. He just called to remind me.”

“With who?” Valentina looked surprised, and so did Claire. Sasha hadn’t had a date in months.

“Some guy I met last month. I think he thought I was you. He acted like he knew me, and then I realized he had us confused.”

“And he still thinks so?” Valentina was amused, and Sasha annoyed.

“Of course not. I told him, but he asked me out anyway. He’s an actor, and he models underwear for Calvin Klein.”

“He must be cute,” she said, glancing at her sister.

“Yeah, kind of. I wasn’t going to go out with him, but he made a big fuss that I sounded like I’d forgotten, and I didn’t want to admit I had. He’s taking me to some art opening, and dinner afterward.” It didn’t sound like Sasha’s kind of date, which were usually with other doctors, people she met at medical conferences, or related to her work. An actor/model wasn’t her style, or even Valentina’s. “I said I’d meet him in half an hour.” And thinking about it, she was sorry Valentina had taken the skirt—she didn’t know what to wear.

“Wear something hot,” Valentina advised her, as Sasha disappeared into her room, pawed through the closet, and came up with a white cotton dress and threw it on the bed. Valentina came in a minute later and shook her head. “You’ll look like you’re going to the beach. There’s a black pencil skirt at the back of your closet, and a silver tube top. Wear that.” Sasha hesitated for a minute and then nodded. Valentina knew a lot more about fashion than she did. She jumped into the shower, and was dressed ten minutes later, her long blond hair still wet.

“Blow-dry your hair, put on makeup, and wear high heels,” her twin advised her, as Sasha headed back to the bathroom and emerged ten minutes later, and actually looked like she was going on a date, except that she couldn’t find heels in her closet. She walked into the living room barefoot, and Claire handed her a pair of high-heeled sandals. Conveniently, they wore the same size. Sasha looked terrific in the outfit her twin had chosen for her with her roommate’s shoes.

“Now you look hot!” Valentina said, smiling at her. Sasha suddenly looked like Valentina, but she could hardly walk in Claire’s towering high heels.

“Can’t I wear sandals? I think he was short anyway. I can’t remember.”

“No, you can’t,” Valentina and Claire said in unison, and five minutes later Sasha clattered down the stairs, feeling like a fraud and hoping she wouldn’t break her neck in the high heels. She felt like a poor imitation of her twin, which was what her date had probably wanted anyway, a date with Valentina, not with her. It had been the story of their early life. They were always trading places. Sasha wrote term papers and took exams for Valentina, and Valentina sometimes went on dates pretending to be Sasha.

Sasha hailed a cab on Tenth Avenue, and gave the driver the address of a gallery in Chelsea, where she was supposed to meet her date. She saw him as soon as she walked in, and he made a beeline for her.

“Wow! You look amazing.” He had his cell phone in his hand and snapped a picture of her before she could stop him.

“Why did you do that?” Sasha felt out of place and ill at ease.

“I put everything I do on Instagram,” Ryan Phillips said to her. The thought of it made her uncomfortable, and she followed him into the crowded gallery, where he seemed to know everyone.

Ryan was a handsome man about her age, and as women crowded around him, Sasha felt naked in the top her sister had told her to wear. It just wasn’t her, and it was awkward being out of hospital scrubs. A number of men talked to her, and Ryan was attentive, but she still thought she looked like a poor imitation of Valentina, and she was exhausted by the time they left the gallery and took a cab to a restaurant in SoHo, which was mobbed and noisy, and everyone knew him there too. Conversation was nearly impossible once they were seated at the table, and he took another picture of her on his cell phone, which unnerved her even more. She wondered if he was letting people think he was on a date with famous supermodel Valentina, and not with her twin. She felt like an imposter with him, but had told herself it would do her good to get out for a change. No one had asked her on a date in months, and she was guilty about not making the effort to meet new people and go out. But now that she was here, it was all too strange. He was a good-looking guy, but they had nothing in common, and she doubted he would ask her out again.

“So what do you do?” he asked her, shouting over the din of the noisy restaurant after they had ordered. She noticed that his muscles rippled under the black T-shirt he was wearing with black jeans. He was in fantastic shape, and it was easy to guess he worked out every day.

“I’m a doctor,” she shouted back, “an obstetrician.” He looked stunned by her response.

“I thought you were a model, like your sister.” She shook her head with a broad grin.

“No, I’m an OB/GYN resident at NYU hospital. I deliver babies.” What she told him left him momentarily speechless, and then he nodded.