Sugar: A Novel Part 19

"No," she said without looking. Her complete unwillingness to even play along reminded me of how long she'd been parenting. "So you've finished filming, right? Pretty soon I'll be able to watch the whole thing and not just whatever gets pa.s.sed along to the media?"

"Right," I said. The warmth from the cup reached into my fingers, which retained a chill from the damp summer morning. August marched onward and that morning had dipped one tiptoe into cool fall temperatures. "We have some publicity things still on our contracts, but we're getting close to the debut episode."

"Ooh," she said, eyes sparkling. "Sounds like a party. Should I host one here? Can I have the star in our midst?" Her voice was inching up in excitement.

I frowned. "I wish. They're having a party at Thrill. I have to be there. But after that, we can watch the show every week together." I winced. "Or not. I'm not looking forward to seeing myself on screen."

Polly had gotten onto all fours and was rocking back and forth in a kind of burlesque-meets-downward-facing-dog.

"Are you still feeling like you did the right thing?" Manda studied my face.

"What, with the show? Yes. Definitely." I nodded. "I haven't decided about a second season, but I know this season has been great exposure, great for branding."

"Branding." Manda said the word as a statement, but I knew what she was asking.

"You know, marketing. Making my face a household image, building an audience. That kind of thing." I stopped, hearing a lot of Vic and Margot in my words and not much Charlie. "Anyway, I've worked a long time to get here and it's nice to see things finally taking off."

"What about Kai?" Manda tucked her feet under her as she adjusted in her chair. "And no, he's not home."

As if I were going to ask that again. "He never called back," I said, shrugging back into my victim's stance. "I never even got to explain myself and prove I wasn't guilty of anything. I've decided we were just wrong for each other."

Manda said nothing, her posture waiting for me to explain.

I sighed. "Manda, Kai is great. He is. But I'm going through a time in my life when I need to focus all my attention on work. And if he can't handle that, well ..."

She nodded slowly. "I see. That was a horrid little speech and totally canned. Try again and this time tell me the truth."

I opened my mouth, locked and ready for reload, but Zara's voice interrupted.

"Mooooommmm!" she called, sounding more frantic than before. "Dane is eating a Sharpie!"

"A Sharpie!" Manda scooped up Polly. "Sharpies are permanent! How on earth did he get a Sharpie? If he got it on the walls or the floors ..."

Her footsteps on the stairs were receding down the upstairs hall when I heard a cheerful knock at the door.

I leaned toward the window and fell out of one of Manda's kitchen chairs. "s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t." I was muttering and crawling over to hide behind the couch, but the Henricks had a door with a mammoth gla.s.s cutout so Kai could easily see me crouching behind the furniture. I managed a weak smile and tried to look nonchalant as I walked to the door.

"Hey," I said, trying for breezy. "How's it going, Kai?"

He c.o.c.ked his head to one side and narrowed his eyes. "Been better. You?"

I shrugged. "Not bad, not bad. How can I help you?" I sounded like the Target cas.h.i.+er.

He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. His eyes were annoyingly bright and beautiful. I found myself wis.h.i.+ng he would look at me like he had the day we spent at Forsythia Farms.

Holding out a piece of notebook paper, he gestured for me to take it. "This is the neighborhood sign-up sheet for the block party next month. I came home to grab some things for Howie's and remembered I was supposed to pa.s.s it along to Jack and Manda last night."

I took the page from him and studied it like I really cared about bringing a side dish, salad, or dessert.

Kai cleared his throat. I looked up from where I was reading the words broccoli and raisin salad over and over.

"Listen," he said, voice lowered. "Charlie. I'm sorry I haven't called you back." I noticed a day's worth of whiskers cropping up on his jaw and chin and wanted desperately to feel their rough texture on my cheek.

"I understand," I said, hating that I sounded so clinical. "I can see how you were upset. It has to be hard dating someone who is a part of a publicity machine." I laughed, but my heart was hammering out a primal rhythm in my chest.

"It was," he said, looking more relaxed. "Really weird, to tell you the truth."

I nodded.

He nodded.

I willed him to move closer, thinking if he'd just take one small step, I could close the distance and kiss his whiskered cheeks and full bottom lip and we could start over.

But he moved in the opposite direction, taking a step back toward the front door. "Well, it's good to see you. I'm glad we could resolve things, you know, since we'll probably run into each other around here every now and then."

I swallowed hard and pulled my mouth into a wide smile. "Totally. Good to be on the same page."

"Exactly." His eyes lingered on mine, his right hand paused on the door k.n.o.b.

Manda came clambering down the stairs at an unsteady gait. She held Polly in one hand and gripped Dane's fingers in the other. A long and spindly Sharpie mustache curled over his mouth, one curlicue arching all the way to his earlobe.

Manda's cloudy expression lifted instantly when she glimpsed Kai in her foyer.

"Kai! How delightful to see you! We were just talking about you." As soon as the words rang into the s.p.a.ce we shared, Manda clamped her mouth shut.

"Is that right?" Kai's mouth pulled into a half-smile. "Then I wish I would have shown up a few minutes earlier." He looked at me again, but not for long. "I was just stopping by with the sign-up for the block party. Charlie has it."

Never one to miss a cue, I waved the sheet in the air like a banner. Manda raised her eyebrows at my enthusiasm. I stopped waving.

"You ladies enjoy your day. The weather should make it easy." Kai opened the door and stepped onto the porch.

"Yes, it's beautiful out! Feels like fall!" I couldn't stop myself! The exclamation points! The fake smile! The seasonal update!

Manda waved to Kai while I stayed rooted to my spot in the middle of the entryway. Dane tried to squirm out of Manda's vise grip but to no avail.

"You are sitting with me for a while, mister," she said, pulling her entire entourage to the family room. She called over her shoulder, "Char? You okay?"

I groaned long and loudly. Dane giggled and said, "Auntie Char cweepy."

"We resorted to the weather," I said. My shoulders sagged as I padded toward Manda and the kids.

"That bad, huh?" Manda looked at me with compa.s.sion while maintaining an impressive hold on her son's wiggling torso. "What did you feel?"

I shook my head, trying to filter out the topmost emotions. "I felt sad. And nervous. And like I wished we could back the truck up a few days." I frowned at her. "I don't like feeling like I'm not in control. And that man makes me feel like I'm spiraling in a fixed point away from control."

She bit her lower lip to contain the smile. "G.o.d forbid you relinquish control."

"Exactly!" Exasperation bubbled forth and I let it bubble. "This is just what I've been saying. A relations.h.i.+p like that is absolutely impossible right now. I'm so close to getting what I want, and I can't afford to be distracted."

Manda pulled Polly's leggings out a bit to investigate the diaper situation.

I nodded, readily convinced by my own persuasion. "I'm a chef. And chefs make sacrifices to get to the top. The top is within an arm's length, Manda, and I owe it to myself to get there. I need focus. Calm. Direction. A clear head." I slapped the arm of my chair with each directive.

Manda wore a thoughtful expression, all the more impressive because Dane was jumping across her lap with squeals and varying degrees of success. "I don't think I'm one to talk about how to achieve focus and calm," she said finally. "I'm about to take a Magic Eraser to my son's skin. Using one toxic substance to rid him of another." She closed her eyes. "Please don't ever tell my Earth Moms support group."

I thought of the noxious fumes that had arisen a week prior when I'd attacked the deep sink at Thrill with something called Kill It. "You're safe here."

Manda opened her eyes. "Char, you're a smart girl. Very capable, very bright, and very, very good at what you do." She smiled. "You know what you're doing." She stood and stopped Dane from performing a frontwards flip. Walking over to me, she leaned down and planted a kiss on my cheek, then waited for Polly and Dane to do the same.

"Trust yourself," she said, and I waited for the next sentence but nothing came.

I wiped child spit off my cheek and said, "But what? What aren't you saying? Why the diplomacy?"

She feigned ignorance. "I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about. Unless you mean I should go in for the hard sell on why Kai is one in a million and how he would be a great husband and dad and that maybe, just maybe, your goal in life should not be to control everyone and everything around you."

I pulled a face. "Right. That's what was missing in this conversation."

She laughed. "Listen, I knew when we were in fifth grade and you had me sleep over for the first time that we were not exactly cut from the same cloth. Any eleven-year-old who thinks it's fun to alphabetize her Popstar! magazines according to the last name of the guy on the cover is definitely going to do things in life I will not." She squeezed my shoulder, her warmth and long-time support of me filling any doubt I'd carved out between us. "Love you, Char. Go knock 'em dead, just like you always do."

I nodded, feeling suddenly emotional. "Thanks, Manda."

"Now," she said as she turned toward the kitchen. "Let's get your face back, Dane. You're much more handsome without facial hair."

"Hair is cweepy!" Dane said, triumphant in his new knowledge.

I watched them walk away and blinked away the love I had for this motley crew. A full breath and a quick glance to make sure Kai's car was really gone, I opened the door and walked out with new resolve to prove myself worthy of all the support I'd been given. Time to finish what you've started, I said to myself, and I quickened my step on my way to face the workday.

26.

THE next week at Thrill, the cameras were gone, and I cooked like a woman on fire. No rush was too daunting, no special order too inconvenient. When the production crew left, Tova was granted a few days off, and I barely noticed having to pull extra weight in her absence. Free to do what I knew best without anyone watching, I threw myself into the work. The prepping, the measuring, the scoring, the seasoning, the baking, the scouring-I saw nothing but the doing. From the first moment I arrived at Thrill to the second before my body made an easy surrender to sleep, I pushed every nonwork thought out of my mind, particularly those involving men who named diners after their grandfathers, and focused solely on running the pastry kitchen that was soon to be mine without any strings attached.

The exodus of Margot, Vic, and their posse had the opposite effect on Avery. After a harrowing weekend of packed tables and constant demands, we met Monday morning to share the ride to a photo shoot in a loft downtown. The driver opened the back door of the dark sedan, and I slipped in next to Avery, who was sitting with his head resting on the backseat, eyes closed.

"Are you sick?" I tried to be discreet as I scooted as far away from him and his pallid complexion as I could.

"No," he said without opening his eyes. The car eased forward and into traffic. "I feel great."

I whistled. "You'd better start looking alive or Margot will take drastic measures. I've heard she is a fan of spray tanning."

"I'd be open to a little suns.h.i.+ne in a can," he said, rubbing his face with one hand. "This week killed me. I'd forgotten how hard it was to work in a restaurant." His expression was sheepish. "I can't wait until next season when all the support staff comes back. And I can roam around the restaurant looking for story lines instead of being married to the stove all night."

I frowned. "I thought you liked being married to the stove. The stove is a great spouse."

Avery sniffed his disagreement. "I've seen the light, Charlie. And I'm not going back. Food media is where it's at for me. Thrill is just a launching pad."

A sidewalk folk band caught my eye out the tinted window, and I listened to muted strains of a Marvine Gaye cover as we drove past. The vibrancy of Seattle unfolded as we made our way through the city. The trees were just beginning to turn, and I saw glimpses of yellow amid the deep green. A chatty group of teenagers filled one section of sidewalk, joined at the arms and blocking anyone else's pa.s.sage.

When the car slowed to a stop, I craned my neck to look upward. I could glimpse a few stories of weathered red brick and the name on a small sign. In a vintage font, the lettering read BACK DOOR EVENTS. The driver opened my door and instructed us to go to the third floor, where Vic met us with a clipboard tucked under his arm and two gla.s.ses of champagne.

He offered the drinks to us but was so distracted, he could have been handing us our Costco receipts with a streak of highlighter down the middle. "Hi, guys. Drink these and try to relax. You'll take better photos." His eyes settled on Avery. "Good G.o.d, man, do you sleep? Head over to makeup and see if they can bring some color into your face. And don't let Margot see you until they're done or we'll get way behind schedule waiting for you to go to Bronze Bodies."

I nudged Avery in the ribs. He took a quick sip of his champagne before striding over to the makeup corner.

Vic was already moving in the opposite direction, but he called to me. "Charlie, they're ready for you in Hair."

A line of mirrors and black folding chairs flanked the back of the room, and I squinted to find Lolo. Making my way through the crowd, I greeted the faces that had become familiar to me throughout weeks of shooting. A smattering of line cooks, the hostess, a dishwasher, and Chet the sous chef nodded as I walked by. I sipped my champagne, gathering from the happy hum of the room that the rest of the gang already had a head start on the relaxed vibe.

Lolo's voice lifted just a smidge from her characteristic monotone. "Thank the dear Lord the day has come," she drawled. "I finally get the chance to do more than a slicked-back ponytail."

"Really?" I said. "What's the plan?"

She pulled my makes.h.i.+ft ponytail out of the elastic and felt my hair with practiced fingers. "The plan," she said, "is volume."

Lolo's prediction, it turned out, applied to more than just my hair. By the time I was done in her chair, then with makeup and styling, I had to stare to recognize myself. Margot called me over to a white backdrop, lit up and luminous with the help of suspended professional lighting. A smattering of slow whistles moved through the crowd that parted as I walked.

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, guys. This isn't me."

"Baby, I beg to differ," someone said. "You look more you than you've ever looked."

I scowled into the dark room but couldn't pick out who was talking among all the laughs and catcalls.

Avery evaluated me as I walked into the light. He stood with both hands on his hips, his hair carefully styled and some kind of magical makeup enabling him to look fully awake for the first time that day. He smiled in a way that made me want to ask for a trench coat.

Margot looked me up and down, then up again. She nodded. "Nice work, Lolo, Sebastian. This is just what I wanted."

"I look like a hooker," I said, quietly, to discourage any more comments from the peanut gallery.

"You don't," Margot said, her eyes on a screen next to the photographer's camera. "But I will tell you that hookers are great for ratings. We'll have to work one in next season."

I caught a reflection of myself from the back wall. "My hair is huge. And these jeans are so tight, I'm having difficulty taking a full breath."

"Flat hair is for makeover shows, medical dramas, and any show involving a university." Margot sounded bored. "Believe me, Charlie. I know publicity campaigns, and Thrill Me is definitely big hair."

I s.h.i.+fted in my heels, feeling the beginnings of a blister. The group behind the camera conferred in whispered conversations but none too loud to divert attention from Margot. She consulted briefly with the photographer, a short, angular man with a Mohawk and a facial tattoo. He nodded and turned to his a.s.sistant, who handed him what looked like a chocolate macaron. Popping the entire cookie into his mouth, he chewed and waited for Margot to speak.

Margot's voice filled the room. "All right, people. Since Charlie and Avery are already basking in the light, we'll warm up with a few shots of them. And then we'll move to the large group shots before tackling smaller ensembles like the line cooks, the pastry people, and the serving staff. Let's get some great photos, everybody."

"Did she say basking? I definitely don't feel like I'm basking," I muttered to Avery and his ridiculous smile.

"Picture your face and hot bod on the billboards right off I-5. Or in a full-color pull-out in next month's InStyle. Or lining the checkout shelves at the grocery store." Avery looked as if he wanted to make out with the huge lens trained on his face. "If that thought doesn't make you work it, I don't know what will."

I tried to inflate my lungs with a calming, yoga-ish breath but the waistline of my pants was like a denim tourniquet.