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"Thank God," Chris said and pulled her in. "Come on, help me take these down to the first floor."
Sakura simply wanted to laugh. Here she was ready to meet her biological mother, but what was she doing now? Helping Chris carrying designer gowns.
Some twenty minutes later, they were back on the first floor where the backstage was held. She was just resting and massaging her arms when someone said, "Sakura?" loudly.
Sakura lifted her head and said, "Yes?"
A woman with brown hair and red face headed straight at her, looked her up and down and said, "You're late."
Without telling her as to what was going on, the woman got a tight hold of her wrist and led her away.
*
CHAPTER 7
Mistaken Identity
Oh God! Kill me now! Just kill me right now, Sakura thought as she stared at herself in the full length mirror. Was this really her? Holy Mother Jesus Christ! She had pink hair. Candy floss pink hair! It was intricately formed high on her head into a chignon with a garland of cherry blossoms and beads of pink mother of pearls artistically decorated on it.
Her face! She moved closer to have a good look. She had to gasp again. Was this really her? She blinked. Her face was flawlessly made-up with rosy pink blush, bright eyes, long, dark lashes, and hot ruby lips.
Sakura, she thought, you looked like one of those high fashion models who was about to do a catwalk. Her heart did a somersault. Oh God, yes, that was exactly what she was about to do in twenty minutes times, and it was all due to a case of mistaken identity.
She was supposed to be here, minding her own business to steal a sneak peek at her supposedly biological mother Haruka Tanaka, but now looked at where it got her.
The gown! She couldn't believe she was wearing a famous designer gown that no woman had ever worn nor anyone had ever seen before. Well, until tonight in--
She glanced at the huge clock on the wall to the right. Her heart did another jolt. Jesus! In only eighteen minutes times. Breathe, Sakura, just breathe--she told herself.
She had to call Jane. Jane would know what to do. Jane would sort all this mess out.
Her hands shaking, she dug into her bag and searched frantically for her cell phone. She found it and quickly dialed her friend's number. Her whole body was shaking with nervousness as the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Jane?" Sakura shouted into the phone, panic in her voice. "Jane?"
"Oi! You there. Quickly take this to Mr. Tachibana. Oh shit! What are you doing? That's supposed to be over there. Quickly fix it. Now! And how are the backstage people going? What the heck! We're on in fifteen! Oi, you fix her dress now. Shit! Where the hell is Chris! Chris! I need help here!"
Sakura gritted her teeth. She knew Jane was busy with work, but Sakura needed help. Pronto!
"Jane?" she shouted into the phone again.
"Huh? Oh God! I'm sorry, is that you Sakura? Where are you? I can't believe I've lost you in this crazy mess."
Sakura thought--forget about the crazy mess! She was the crazy mess!
"Jane? I need you. Please come quickly. I'm in trouble," she begged. She was almost on the verge of crying but managed to control herself because she didn't want to mess up her beautifully made-up face that three make-up artists had worked so hard on. She just couldn't believe she was in this stupid predicament. That was all.
"What? What's wrong?"
"They mistook me for Sakura," she said.
"What? Hold on a second. I can't hear you properly in this crazy noise." A moment later, "What was it again?"
Sakura sighed and shouted into the phone. "They mistook me for Sakura."
A pause and then, "But you are Sakura."
"No, that's not what I mean. The make-up artists mistook me for Sakura, the famous Japanese super model."
"Holy Shit!" Jane swore loudly into the phone. "Where are you?"
"The dressing room," Sakura replied, her voice shaking. "Please come quickly."
"Right, be there in a second."
"Okay," Sakura whispered into the phone, her heart thumping hard out within her chest. She took a deep, calming breath and closed her eyes. Yes, everything would be all right. Jane would be here soon.
"You looked shorter than I remember," a seductive voice with a hint of Japanese accent said softly.
Sakura gasped and twisted around, her eyes wide in panic. She came to face a very beautiful Japanese model. Tall, slender, and with a face to die for, the woman could really crash the stage with her look alone. She was wearing a light purple gown, beautifully designed and decorated with beads of tiny diamonds around the collar. Her hair, candy purple in color, was also fashioned high on her head into a chignon with a garland of purple flower artistically arranged to the left side.
"Baka!" the woman said, blinking as she stared at Sakura in awe.
Sakura licked her lip as she gazed at the woman, her heart continued to pound within her chest.
"You're not Sakura," she said.
Sakura blinked. "Well, I'm not and I am."
The Japanese beauty blinked. "What do you mean?"
Sakura knew she had to come clean whether she liked it or not. Then there was also the fact that this Japanese beauty might be able to help her out of this stupid misunderstanding. She cleared her throat and squeaked out, "They mistook me for the Japanese model Sakura. What am I going to do?"
The Japanese beauty cocked her head to one side as she gazed at Sakura for a long while, as if she was assessing Sakura. Then suddenly she laughed. It was a beautiful, rich laughter that any man would find very attractive. She came forward and smiled at Sakura, her eyes twinkling with delight. "Well, I for once am quite glad you're going to be the finale. Oba-chan would be very pleased indeed you're the one wearing her necklace," she said.
Sakura blinked. "Huh? What? Finale?"
Lisa, the stylist, reappeared. "Quick!" she muttered, her face red from running and ordering people around. "We're on in twelve minutes and you need your mask. And where the hell is that precious necklace?" she shouted to someone behind her.
"I'm Akira, by the way," the Japanese woman said. "And you are Sakura, yes?"
Sakura nodded, and before she could say anything further, Lisa twisted her around and made her sit in the make-up chair again. "Mask! Mask! Now!" she shouted.
Sakura watched as a beautifully designed mask of white, pink, and gold with cherry blossom flowers appeared before her. Then a make-up artist arranged it on her face so that it sat comfortably on her. A moment later, they moved back and Sakura blinked. The shape of the mask was like that of the phantom of the opera with one fourth of her face covered. She couldn't recognize herself. She wasn't her anymore.
Akira chuckled. "Amazing, yes?"
Sakura nodded, lost for words.
"Where the hell is that stupid necklace!" Lisa shouted again.
Akira said as another make-up artist also placed a mask on her pretty face, "I don't think you should call that precious necklace stupid, Lisa. It is, after all, worth at least two million."
Sakura gasped and shot up. "Two million?" she shouted out in surprise. "Two million?
"
"Hai," Akira said, smiling, mask neatly in place. "You are the finale, after all. And besides, you shouldn't be too surprised. Your gown is worth at least five hundred thousand, what with those beads of pink diamond and all."
Sakura could only stand there and stare at Akira, her eyes wide open in shock. Then the expensive necklace appeared, securely placed in a locked velvet box.
Sakura watched, dazed, as the intricately designed necklace of pink diamonds was placed around her neck.
Oh no! She shouldn't be wearing this. Not her. Not Sakura. What if she lost it? What if she damaged it?
"You're ready," Lisa said. "Now then, off you all go. We're on in ten minutes."
Suddenly, Sakura found herself being ushered toward the stage. No. No. No.
"Why are you so nervous?" Akira asked.
"I've never done this before," Sakura said breathlessly.
"Oh." But instead of sympathizing with Sakura, she laughed again with that beautiful rich voice of hers. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. Look, all you have to do is to not pay attention to the audience. Just listen to the music and walk. That's all you have to do. Walk. In your mind, just imagine you're somewhere else. Anywhere else but here."
"Does that really help?" Sakura asked, curious.
Akira nodded. "It helped me."
Sakura wasn't so sure that this would help her, but she was willing to give anything a try. Then she thought about Jane. Where the heck was Jane?
Sakura was praying very hard Jane would miraculously appear and sort out this mess when she heard a commotion on the other side. She looked up to see the famous Japanese designer Mr. Tachibana coming toward them, his long hair--dyed bleach blond--flying and his long white robe fluttering about him. Beside him was the woman Sakura had been waiting eagerly to meet in person, the woman who had given birth to her twenty-five years ago, Haruka Tanaka, also known simply as Ms. Ruka. She was tall, Sakura realized, with strong, angular face, and thin nose that sat nicely on her face. She was very beautiful.
"What?" Mr. Tachibana shouted at Chris Williams. "Sakura isn't here yet? And you didn't tell me this until now? When we only have ten minutes until show time?"
Sakura licked her lips, her stomach flipping in dread as she watched them coming closer to her, still arguing about the missing super model Sakura Taito.
Ms. Ruka watched Chris flustered in his spot as if he wanted to die. After all, Sakura Taito was their finale and thus without her the show couldn't possibly be a success. They only had ten minutes until show time. There were thousands of rich and famous people out there waiting to see Mr. Tachibana's famous gowns and Lady Suzuki's one-of-a-kind necklaces. They had to come up with something. Of course, they could always cast another model for the finale. There was no problem with that. Thus with that idea in mind, she stepped in and said, "Moushiwake arimasen, Tachibana-sama, but I have just called Sakura-san, too. She refused to come without an escort. She wants a limo not a taxi, so she told me."
