Keeping Up With Piper Read online

  about this book

  Beware of your past. She might kill you.

  I’ve spent years preparing for this moment. I know you so well, Piper. Maybe more than you know yourself. I know what shampoo you use, I know what podcasts you listen to while driving to your job at an online lifestyle blog, I know what kind of coffee you drink, I know what bedtime stories you read to your daughter. I’ll destroy you for what you’ve done to me. Enjoy our friendship as long as you can.

  Blair Morgan has a new identity, a new name, a new life. She wants revenge for what Piper Flores did to her, for what she took from her. She wants her to suffer as much as she did. After years of preparation she’s now ready to turn the tables on her. And she’s willing to sacrifice everything she has left.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  content

  about this book

  content

  part I

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  part II

  20

  20.1

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  part III

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  part IV

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  part V

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  acknowledgments

  about the author

  copyright

  Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.

  Confucius

  part I

  1

  Today

  Manhattan, New York City

  “I’m Piper,” you say with your lovely disgusting voice.

  For just a second I wonder what I’ll do if you recognize me too soon. What if my new identity lacks authenticity? What if you recognize my face? I guess I’ll have to kill you then, which would be quite early. I still have plans for you. But girl, lovely Piper, in case you do recognize me I’m prepared for that. In my black Chloé bag there’s not only a pretty nude lipstick, some pinkish rouge, my phone, the keys to my white Mercedes-Benz, a wallet, hand lotion, a Nicholas Sparks novel and black sunglasses, there’s also a loaded gun. Nobody would expect that from a skinny blonde girl in her mid-twenties who shops at Neiman Marcus, Brandy Melville and Urban Outfitters, wears scrunchies and comes with an enchanting smile, so I don’t bother taking it with me to the first day of my new job. A job that turns me into your colleague. It brings me closer to you and that’s exactly where I need to be. At lalamilan, an Italian lifestyle blog with headquarters in New York City, no one bothers to search your bag for weapons. They are all fancy hipsters, fashionistas, who think the world revolves around the newest designer collections, colorful socks with prints, beauty, super healthy food a.k.a. superfood and their selfies. Also, if anyone ever finds it, I’ll just say it’s for self-defense. It clearly is, right? The world is rough, especially for young girls and women. It’s not uncommon for a young woman in a city such as New York City to have a crazy stalker following her or come across a criminal on her way home. They are where you least expect them, so beware. They could turn out to be a blonde woman in her mid-twenties.

  Honestly, I’m not even qualified for this awful job as a project lead at this extremely irrelevant global lifestyle blog. I’m so not. But do I care? Hell, no. As long as I’m with you, as long as I’m your new dear coworker, I don’t mind at all. I had to do some digging to get here, to land this job. A job that I never wanted. How do you fake a degree in journalism? How do you fake your references, certificates and invent a whole new identity for yourself? In case you ever need a degree from any university I now know how to fake a document like that. Mine looks too real. I’m proud of myself. Just call me for more information.

  According to my certificate I’m a graduate of Pepperdine University in Malibu, California. Isn’t that great? Totally fits the image of a blonde fashionista and media professional. I’ve never even visited Pepperdine or Malibu. I just googled their certificate, found one on Instagram and did some professional photoshopping. Photoshopping is fun. I get it why people like you and your colleagues like to photoshop their photos, make their waist smaller, make their skin look tanner, their eyes bluer, their hair smoother, their wrinkles and spots disappear, and change the boring white background to the Eiffel Tower. I won’t waste my time with photoshopping myself, I have better plans. Thanks Kelly Foster a.k.a. @misskelfos who posted a certificate on her account publicly. That made it much easier to fake one. The people’s need to share their whole lives on social media makes everything easier. The document literally included Kelly’s address, her full name, her grades. I feel like I know Kelly Foster, like I’m a friend. And copying a friend’s degree is not as bad, right? Keep on sharing, so I can keep on photoshopping. You can’t create a certificate without knowing what an original one looks like. Let’s not be too mysterious. I can assure you I’m not one of those applicants who haven’t studied at all but want to land a job that’s above their qualifications. The truth is I do have an undergraduate degree. I have one in Computer Engineering from NYU. I achieved this without any cheating, ghostwriting or any other form of fraud. Computer Engineering is quite useful when stalking some selfish social media addicted bitch like you, isn’t it? And yes, the New York University is your alma mater as well. That’s why I went there, so I could be as close to you as possible. And it worked out, I now know every detail of your life. During all these years I didn’t miss a thing, trust me. I bet few people spend so much time following someone.

  Piper, you look just like your sixteen-year-old self. You haven’t changed at all. You still put your long hair in a high ponytail, you still wear that red or pink lipstick that makes you look like a cheap prostitute and you still wear fancy outfits inspired by your favorite series Gossip Girl, Pretty Little Liars and Riverdale. You were the exact same person in high school. I see no difference. And that is how I know that you still deserve everything I have planned for you. But why do I pretend like I didn’t know? I knew it all before. I might look at you as if we’ve never met before, but we did. Also, I’ve been following you for six years now. Isn’t that a long time? We should celebrate our anniversary before I get rid of you. I could bake a cake, since I know you can’t bake shit.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say. I wish I’ve never met you at all.

  I haven’t spoken to you in a while, a few years actually. I hear your voice every day, I see your face every day (sometimes even other body parts since you like taking your iPad with you to the bathroom and watch series while showering or doing your business). You should really make use of some stickers to put on your camera. Everybody could hack your devices like I did. I once met a girl who seriously stuck transparent tape strip onto the laptop camera. That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.<
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  “This is Blair Morgan, she’ll be your new project lead,” Paola explains and points at me as if she’s trying to sell an expensive sofa. Look at her, a new one, wow.

  Paola is the head of this company, the so-called CEO of lalamilan.

  Isn’t it awkward how literally everyone calls themselves chief executive officer these days? Literally every micro-influencer with a thousand followers on Instagram and every young business student who founds another startup that sells watches with detachable straps is an entrepreneur now, a founder, a businessman or businesswoman. That’s just a regular Instagram profile with some low-priced ads on it, not a company. Just chill, everyone.

  And lalamilan? Is a lifestyle blog even a real company, a real business? Apparently yes, it is. Paola makes quite a bit of money with this blog. A lot of money to be honest. Until I hacked into her system and saw the numbers, the transfers and her bank account I had no idea blogs were so lucrative. After the podcast and social media hype I thought blogs were dead. I never gave a shit about fashion or make-up, labels or about following some elite’s rules when it comes to appearance, but you taught me to follow the rules, didn’t you, Piper? Your very personal and very strict rules. And not just me, everyone needs to follow them. I guess you feel at home at this snobbish company with its arrogant and delusional employees. For me all of this is just one small part of my plan. Just a small step on the ladder to my liberation.

  As you can tell I don’t care about this job at all. I don’t care about the whole industry. I’ve never led a project, but my resumé says I’m a brilliant project manager and I have lots of experience despite my young age, at a tech company in Italy and a fashion magazine in Paris. And all that at the age of twenty-four. I’m a genius. I’ve never even been to France or Italy. In case anyone asks me about life in Europe I’ll just google it. I know a little bit about life in France though, and you do, too, Piper. When it comes to Italy I’ll just read a few novels and pretend like I know it all. I’m smart enough to lie in a way that is trustworthy. That is key in a world like ours. I’m glad Paola is your boss, and my boss, because she’s the kind of person who can be fooled easily.

  The team that I lead is quite small. It only consists of you, Piper, and your awkward colleague Amber Cassidy, an almost thirty-year-old media studies graduate from Florida, who has a YouTube channel about, guess what, fashion and beauty. It only has about three thousand subscribers, though. Not bad, huh? It is bad considering that she started this YouTube channel five fricking years ago. Others gain millions of subscribers during that amount of time. I guess she gave up on becoming a YouTube star, a social media phenomenon, an overnight success, and now it’s just a hobby of hers. She still refers to herself as a YouTuber on Instagram, however. Well, that’s none of my business. Before joining lalamilan she worked for a hotel chain in Miami. I didn’t really have to stalk her for that. It’s all on her social media profiles, LinkedIn, Twitter and Facebook (yeah, she’s old), Instagram and YouTube. I even found a blog of hers, an old one, but she stopped blogging in 2018. That’s the downside of the influencer hype. Some of us become famous overnight, some of us try so hard for years, but constantly fail to become a public favorite. Amber’s the latter. Just because I don’t post on social media, to remain invisible, doesn’t mean I don’t follow all the trends and those who became online stars. I’ve seen many come and go those last years.

  To be honest, I would actually rather have Amber’s job. She’s also a project assistant, just like you, Piper. You’re equal, and she has her desk right next to yours. That’s what I wanted but I made my resumé a bit too impressive, and Amber didn’t quit her job, my predecessor did. Paola was so convinced of me that she made me project lead instead of just another assistant. She put another assistant position online. Now I have a tiny office all for myself and a wonderful view: You. The salary is quite okay (low compared to the jobs I’m actually qualified for but apparently the fashion and journalism industries pay badly in general) but how can we become best friends when I’m actually your boss? Does that work? I hope so but I have my doubts. Paola said that at lalamilan there are flat hierarchies. Maybe it’ll all work out.

  “This is your office,” Paola says and points at the glass door that leads to a small but modern and well-equipped office room.

  The glass door could become a problem but since no one can actually see what I’m doing on my laptop it’s fine. Not ideal, but alright. There are a lot of paintings and sculptures in this building. Four paintings decorate my office. I guess Paola likes them. But to be honest they don’t even look great. They’re mainly black and white, cloggy, and way too modern and simple if you ask me.

  “Looks great,” I say and look at the plain white desk, the laptop on top of it and the empty white shelf behind it.

  I don’t like to lie but I’ll have to lie a lot from now on. I have to make Blair Morgan appear real.

  “Thanks, I didn’t hire an interior designer, I planned it all by myself. I have an eye for detail, and I know a bit about design.” She smiles.

  You didn’t hire an interior designer? That’s exactly what it looks like, Paola. But whatever, at least she tried.

  I wonder why Paola even hired me. Don’t get me wrong, without this job it would be so difficult to get close to you, Piper. I need this job. How should I become your friend without the possibility of seeing you every day? How else should I introduce Blair Morgan to you? But honestly, I didn’t find myself very convincing during the job interview. I just told Paola about my awesome and life-changing experiences in Italy and France and my degree from Pepperdine. That is it. She just fell in love with me. I didn’t even have to come up with any more detailed impressive stories regarding my work experience or my strengths and weaknesses. The rest of the interview we talked about how fashion blogs shape and vitalize the fashion industry.

  Groundbreaking.

  Maybe she’s dumb, I don’t know. She didn’t even verify my qualifications and references. Instead of giving her contact details of my former bosses, which don’t exist, she now has the phone number of my dead grandmother from Tucson, Arizona, and an email address that doesn’t exist either. But I’m far from being stupid. In case she calls my grandma, her calls being redirected to the phone at my apartment in Brooklyn. The one that’s only a few walking minutes away from yours, Piper. In case she emails Mr. Anthony Sullivan, it’s me who receives her message. And let me tell you, Mr. Anthony Sullivan is thrilled by my skills and expertise. He’s a huge fan of mine. There’s not even an Anthony Sullivan on LinkedIn. For someone who owns a lifestyle blog worth a million dollars Paola doesn’t know shit about the online world.

  Good for me, bad for you, Piper.

  “There’s free coffee in the kitchen,” Paola says and looks extremely proud, as if free coffee is what employees want most, not respect, not equal and appropriate salaries, not even world peace, no, just free coffee. She’s so generous.

  Great, I mean I hate coffee, but you love it, Piper, don’t you? But your favorite drink still is Tequila. I know exactly why. Once your grades dropped in college you started going out more often. Tequila helped you overcome these dark moments in your life. And your lovely little daughter? You left her at home with her Dad, Joe. But Joe isn’t around anymore. He didn’t like it how you went clubbing while he was babysitting your common child. Now Joe lives somewhere in Connecticut with his new girlfriend. Every second weekend he takes your dear Dana Isabella with him. Why would someone want to leave New York City and move to Connecticut? Nobody understands that but I’m glad that he’s out of my way. He was way too nice for a bitch like you are. He stumbled over you in a bar downtown. You were drunk and disgusting but somehow people are fond of you.

  “If there’s anything you need, just come to my office at the end of the hallway or leave me a message,” says Paola.

  Gosh, she’s so approachable. Wow. As soon as Paola is gone, I walk up to your desk. You look tired. Have you been up all night because Dana Isabella
couldn’t fall asleep? I know. I saw it. Try reading her some bedtime stories.

  “Hey there,” I say. “Do you want to grab lunch later on?”

  “Sure,” you answer and smile at me.

  Of course, you want to grab lunch with me. I’m hot now and that is exactly your type when it comes to guys or friends. You want them to look hot, be confident and cool. Luckily, I’ve taught myself how to look stunning in most people’s eyes, how to act like I’m extremely self-aware, how to attract the attention of those around me. Thanks to you I know how to adjust.

  “Let’s say one pm,” I suggest.

  You’re going to say yes. It’s been a while since someone actually rejected me.

  You nod. “Amazing, I know where to get some delicious paninis.”

  I know you do, girl. You love to eat paninis with lots of cheese, bacon, not more than two tomatoes and just a few onions at Benissimo, an Italian restaurant near Union Square Park, just two blocks away from this building. You go there on Mondays and Fridays. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, you go to work with some pre-cooked meals in a blue lunchbox, mainly pasta with vegetables, or only vegetables, or pasta with cheese and bacon. I have no idea why you hate mac and cheese but love spaghetti with cheese and bacon. At the office you microwave your pre-cooked meals in the kitchen and sit there with Valery, Tom and Grace from the IT and HR Department, because Amber usually doesn’t have lunch on those days.

  How do I know? I’m watching you, Piper. Every time you have your phone or laptop with you, I’m watching you. Oh, and, of course, I’m also listening to your voice. I see and hear all that you do. I’m watching you when you brush your teeth in your tiny bathroom at your apartment in Brooklyn, when you cook dinner for Dana Isabella, when you sit in front of the TV and read work emails on your laptop. I even moved to Brooklyn because of you. Guess where I lived before, Piper. In SoHo. And let me tell you, SoHo is even nicer than Brooklyn, but for you, for my soon-to-be best friend, I do everything. I even leave SoHo for Brooklyn, just to be closer to you. I sacrifice a good life to be part of yours.