Acting Out [Student/Teacher, GxG]

Make a Deal with the Devil

If you asked, I could tell you a lot about Claire Lane. I could tell you she orders the same drink at every bar — "A double pour of Four Roses Single Barrel, please. Neat." Sometimes when she kisses me her lips still taste like caramel. I could tell you she's been lactose intolerant since she was twelve but has a freezer stocked with Halo Top red velvet ice cream. Growing up, she wanted to be a marine biologist. She's a virgo. In the summer of 1997, Claire and her friends Željko and Ana 'borrowed' a rental boat off of a pair of naïve tourists at the docks and sailed all the way from Dubrovnik to Via. She has a small white scar on her left knee where it hit the gunwale when she fell overboard. She thinks cilantro tastes like soap.

I could tell you she never wanted any of this, but how could you believe me? The fame, the fortune, the lifestyle of a modern god – who wouldn't want that? There's only one way I could answer that question.

Klara Vivien Marković was the eldest daughter of Kristofor and Vesna Marković. She was six years old when Yugoslavia declared war on Croatia. She was seven when Župa Dubrovačka, her hometown, was captured in the Siege of Dubrovnik. To this day, Župa Dubrovačka is considered an area of special state concern due to the aftermath of the Croatian War of Independence. When she was four, she asked her father if he loved her and he struck her with his cane so hard her arm was broken in three places.

At night, she'd sneak out with her friends to watch the sunrise. One friend called it the magic sky – said if she yelled out a wish to the horizon at the perfect time, it would come true. She was raised in a war by an abusive father and a distant mother without the agency to leave or the ability to protect her.

When I asked her what she wished on the magic sky for, she just chuckled and shook her head. "I was a kid, Rowan," She'd said, her expression telling me I should already know the answer. "I wished that someday I'd be a marine biologist. I'd live in some glamorous house in Zagreb and I'd swim around in Lake Jarun looking for cool fish all day. Mamá could visit and I'd take her to the National Theatre to see all of those plays she loved reading. I don't even know if you can swim in Lake Jarun – I've never been."

She grew out of that particular career ambition eventually, but it was never about marine biology or Zagreb or Lake Jarun. All Klara Marković wanted was a happy life.

According to local authorities, Klara Marković is dead. According to the tabloids, Claire Lane got everything she ever wanted.

If there was any way I could justify what I was about to do, I'd say the very same thing: all Klara Marcović wanted was a happy life.

— TWO DAYS EARLIER —

This was the 6th audition I'd done in the past week. Since Breathe wrapped, Claire and I had been enjoying the industry's new surge of interest in hiring us — Claire was the big ticket item, obviously, but the promotional buzz Breathe had generated for the both of us was enough to pique the curiosity of a few smaller production companies.

When I got home, Claire was on the couch, her MacBook in her lap and a glass of wine in her hand. She didn't look particularly sad or scared, she just looked fucking angry.

I hung my purse by the door, slid out of my heels, and joined her on the couch.

"What's going on, hun?"

In lieu of a response, she shoved the laptop across the couch to me with a grimace. I stared at the email on the screen for a few minutes before giving up.

"You know I'm still learning how to name foods — Rosetta Stone doesn't just download the English to Croatian dictionary into your head. What the fuck does this say? Is it your mother?"