Sugar: A Novel Part 20

"Charlie," Margot said over her gla.s.ses. "You're going to need to step closer to Avery."

I teetered over in my heels and stood shoulder to shoulder with him.

She frowned. "Now you look like you're taking National Honor Society photos for the yearbook."

Avery chuckled. "I was never in the National Honor Society, I promise you."

I'd been treasurer of the Edenton High School chapter, but I wasn't about to point that out.

The Mohawk man, who claimed his mother had named him Dash, approached us with a solemn expression. He nodded to his a.s.sistant, who flipped the switch on an mp3 player and cranked the speakers. Stevie Nicks sang out with a tight vibrato.

"Charlie," Dash said. "Trust me. You're stunning. Avery, man, you are gorgeous."

"Thanks," Avery said, his grin somehow managing to expand.

Dash turned us to face each other. "I want you to take a moment and look into each other's souls. Find the soul."

I bit my bottom lip. "Finding souls has never been easy for me."

Dash inched us closer together and waited. I looked, but all I could seem to find was Avery's normal, eager gaze with a bit of eyeliner on the upper lid. I was just about to break the pose when Dash's voice came from behind the camera.

"Now!" he said. "Avery, don't move, and Charlie, look at me."

I turned and I could hear Dash's shutter start clicking.

"Great, great. Now Charlie, pretend I've told you a delicious secret and you can't tell anyone else. And then whisper that secret into Avery's ear."

I leaned into Avery, and I heard a new round of catcalls.

"Open one more b.u.t.ton on your shirt, Charlie," Margot called. The shutter continued to click on Dash's camera. "You look Amish."

I frowned into the darkness behind the bright lights. "You can't be serious."

Margot came into the light, holding a very full gla.s.s of champagne and wearing an expression that I believed was an attempt at patience.

"Charlie," she said softly, then paused to wave Avery away for a moment of privacy. "Drink this and become a seductress. A clean one, mind you. This is Surge TV, not Showtime. But remember you're selling smart, capable, and s.e.xy. We need images that show that Charlie, not the one who looks like she's never walked in high heels and is worried she's late for curfew."

I worried my lower lip with my teeth. "I don't really think of myself as s.e.xy. And besides," I straightened in my heels but had a difficult time pulling it off, "I don't remember deciding 's.e.xy' was a part of my branding campaign."

Margot smirked. "'s.e.xy' is always a part of the branding campaign," she said. "Charlie, trust me." Her tone was more placating. "I won't do anything to embarra.s.s you. We're just looking for a playful, tantalizing glimpse into the relationships on the show." She clapped her hands, signaling the end of our discussion. "Now, let's get to work."

I gulped down half the champagne and gave the gla.s.s to Mohawk's waiting a.s.sistant. Turning to Avery, I tugged on his collar and raised my eyebrows. "You got me into this, you know."

Avery looked like he'd won a jackpot, but Dash was the one who shouted.

"Perfect!"

When I left the loft hours later, little droplets of water hung in the air somewhere between a traditional rainstorm and early evening mist off the Sound. Lolo met me on the way out of the building. She stood by the front door, huddled in a flimsy jacket and pulling on a cigarette.

"Hey, lady," she said. She nodded her chin at me. "Hair still looks amazing."

I touched the top of my head gingerly, still amazed at how much taller I was after Lolo's work. "Thanks. I'm afraid it won't look too great after I take a walk in this humidity."

Lolo dropped her cigarette on the ground, stubbed it out with a metal-studded platform wedge, and picked it up with two careful fingers. She tossed it in a nearby trash bin and nodded down the street. "I'm parked a few blocks away. Want a ride home?"

I shook my head. "Thank you for the offer, but I want to stretch out the sad and depressed muscles in my feet." Gesturing to her shoes, I said, "I don't know how you wear those things. I feel like crying, and I only had to wear heels when I was in front of the camera."

She laughed quietly, her voice raspy with the aftereffects of tobacco. "I'm a slave to fashion, baby. In my line of work, I have no other option. And listen," she said as she started down the street, "don't give in to the crying," she said. "I told you Margot will hate you for it."

I watched her for a while, the spikes of her newly blue hair catching the light every time she pa.s.sed under a street lamp. Gathering a long, deep breath into my lungs, I enjoyed anew my yoga pants and their willingness to let me inhale and exhale at will. The quiet of the night pulled close around me as I started to walk, the slow silence only punctuated by the polite rumble of fuel-efficient cars every now and then and sound bites of conversations I picked up from the scant foot traffic.

After a day full to the brim with lots of people and lots of big personalities, I found the solitude invigorating. Images of Mohawks, piercings, tattooes, heavy makeup, and, most disturbingly, my own Photoshopped cleavage on an editing screen began to fade the farther I got from the studio. Soon the stiffness in my back and shoulders loosened, and I swung my arms as I walked.

When I reached a crosswalk and was forced to stop for a red light, I realized I was breathing quickly with the exertion. I frowned at my slacker cardio health and resolved to do better starting soon, but then felt the frown dissipate into a nervous smile when I realized where I was. Across the street, a red and turquoise sign was still illuminated above the striped canopy, though a small rectangular sign hanging on the front door proclaimed Howie's closed for the evening.

I stood through an entire cycle of red-yellow-green, squinting at the cafe, wondering if he was there, wondering what he was doing, and wondering if I dared walk over and see. After a considerable amount of self-talk, I decided the chances of Kai being at work so late were very rare and thus, I did have the nerve to just walk over and peek inside. I stepped into the street when the light turned in my favor. I approached the gla.s.s, knowing that I just wanted to be close to a place that used to mean uncomplicated happiness to me. No angle, no Photoshop, no branding campaign. Just really good pancakes and Motown and the hope that the cute short-order cook might stop by my table.

I stopped in front of the center window, ran my fingers across lettering that proclaimed, YOU LOOK HUNGRY. BETTER COME ON IN. My eyes swept the room, the shiny countertops and floors, the neat stack of napkins and vintage red-and-white salt and pepper shakers at each table. The lights in the kitchen were off, but the Mason jar fixtures above each table were illuminated. In my periphery, I saw movement at the edge of the room, and I let my gaze seek out what it was. I gasped, then jumped backward into shadow.

Kai and Sunshine sat with their backs to me, their bodies taking up a small section of a booth that hugged the wall. Kai had his arm around Sunshine, and she was leaning into him. He pulled her close to him, and she let her head fall onto his shoulder. Her dreads splayed out along her back and onto Kai. I stood, fixed to the spot, mouth open and heart hammering. When Sunshine lifted her face, I saw such overwhelming tenderness on it, I stopped breathing. Kai moved in to kiss her cheek and I backed up, stumbling, unable to watch anymore. I ran into the street without looking and nearly got run over by a Prius.

"What are you doing, lady?" the cab driver said out his open window. "I could have killed you!"

I scurried around to the side door and flung it open, desperate to be inside and invisible.

"I need to go home. I can't walk anymore," I said, feeling my heart beat in my neck, my wrists, my chest.

"Okay, all right," the driver said, his tone implying he'd worked with his fair share of deranged lunatics and knew that arguing would be of no use to anyone.

I gave him the address of my apartment and let my body slink down until I could barely see out of the windows. Forcing my eyes to focus on the opposite side of the street, I didn't look back at Howie's, or the warmth within, or the people sitting in the booth. I didn't see anything but the blur of streetlights and the fat droplets of rain that had finally begun to fall.

27.

THE following morning, I stood at the edge of my day and steeled myself for what it held. Avery and I were booked to appear on the morning news program, Rise and Shine, America, and while I did not exactly feel risen and shiny at present, I forced my face into a cheery expression. A nationally televised interview was just the colossal-sized distraction I needed to push out of my mind the image of Kai leaning into Sunshine. I'd keep to the party line, I'd do what I had promised, and I'd be one step closer to my long-awaited professional freedom.

The outdoor set of Rise and Shine, America pulsed with activity. Avery and I hovered around the edges of all the commotion. Vic and Margot flanked us on either side. A man in jeans and a flannel shirt was perched on a ladder in front of us. He fiddled with a light above the stage, an elevated platform set up on a lookout high above the city. The s.p.a.ce Needle soared in the distance, and the Sound beyond brooded in the struggling morning light. A pale woman with a skinny ponytail frowned at a small but elegant flower arrangement she'd placed on a low coffee table. In front of the stage was a large digital clock, its red numbers serving as a ruthless town crier proclaiming six minutes and forty-eight seconds remained until airtime. I watched all the action and chewed on the inside of my cheek until it started to hurt. Then I moved to my fingernails.

"Stop that." Margot spoke to me through a smile she directed toward a man in a headset standing near the craft service table. "Look confident."

I yanked my finger out of my mouth and glued it to my side. "This is so nerve-wracking," I said, voice timid. "I'm just not used to the chaos and tension, I guess."

Vic laughed. "What are you talking about? I've seen Thrill's kitchen during a rush, and this is like an Enya concert by comparison."

"Not the rush." I willed my voice to be louder under Margot's gaze. "The live TV. I didn't realize how much I take the editing room for granted."

"Here come Stan and Bunny," Vic said, striding to meet the couple as they approached. The men slapped each other on the back and jabbed each other in the ribs for enough time that I heard Margot release an impatient sigh. The woman stood with a pleasant, fixed expression while the boys duked it out. Finally the three turned to our little huddle.

"Margot, lovely to see you again, just lovely," the man said into Margot's ear as they exchanged a sterile embrace. The woman shook Margot's hand but kept stealing glances at Avery.

"Stan, Bunny," Vic said, unveiling us like the new car behind Door Number Three, "I'd like to introduce you to the brilliant duo that has brought Thrill Me to life. Avery Michaels and Charlie Garrett. Folks, the morning hosts who need no introduction, Mr. Stan Traynor and Ms. Bunny Lancaster."

We shook hands in turn, Stan murmuring niceties while flashing a mouth full of teeth that looked a size too big for his face.

"Great to meet you all, splendid to meet you," he said after air-kissing me near my earlobe. "Looking forward to the debut."

Vic wiggled crossed his fingers in an exaggerated display of nerves. "This weekend! I can't believe it's already here."

Bunny put her arm on Margot, who appeared to dislike having Bunny involved in her personal s.p.a.ce. "Oh, you guys will be great. Just spectacular! Really!" She pointed to the clock. "But we'll talk about that on camera, right, Stanners?"

With that, we were herded over to the set and directed to take our places.

Stanners gave one more punch to Vic's arm. "Arteaga, you haven't changed at all since college. Remember that Chi Alpha ski trip?" He whistled. "That night alone should have put a few years on you." When Stan laughed, I thought of a sea lion.

The next few minutes left me breathless and full of questions as we were decorated with lapel mics, given the run-down of the four-minute interview, and encouraged to relax! Not to worry! Only five million people were watching! This fact was followed closely by another sea lion laugh.

A sizeable crowd had gathered outside a line of portable fencing separating them from the filming area. Production a.s.sistants wearing headsets and badges raised their clipboards in a sudden rush of forced enthusiasm, and the crowd responded with whoops and hollers. The cameraman closest to us held his hand under the teleprompter and motioned for three, two, one, then a finger pointing to Bunny.

"Welcome back, Seattle," Bunny said, waiting appreciatively for the shouts of adulation to continue while the clipboard people jumped up and down like rabid cheerleaders. "What a great crowd here in the Emerald City!"

This educed another wave of shouting and general giddiness. I smiled at a spot beyond the camera, trying to glean some relaxed joy from a woman in the front row of bystanders. She waved a fluorescent green sign that said, SAY WA? SEATTLE LOVES RISE AND SHINE!

Stan waved to the crowd and said with all earnestness, "A little liquid sunshine won't keep these good folks away!"

Bunny nodded and grinned at the rain that had started to fall beyond our protective canopy. A row of perfectly trimmed blond bangs framed her forehead. "So true! So true! Stan, I am so excited to have a convo with our next guests. Can you believe how lucky we are to have these two with us this morning?"

Stan gave a low chuckle, remarkably different from the sea lion approach. "Bunny, as always, you are 100 percent on the money. We are lucky indeed to welcome to the show today two ill.u.s.trious chefs and the stars of a new reality show on Surge TV. Charlie Garrett and Avery Michaels, welcome."

"Thanks!" Avery said, his hands gripping his knees, a wide smile pushing his cheeks high enough to make his eyes squint. "Honored to be here."

I smiled and said h.e.l.lo. "Thank you for having us."

Bunny began. "So? Are you so, so excited for the debut of Thrill Me this weekend?"

"Great name, great name," Stan said in his sonorous voice. "Catchy."

I saw Vic do a fist b.u.mp behind the camera.

"Totally excited. Honored. Blessed. Humbled. Stoked." Avery appeared to be caught in some sort of one-word vortex.

Bunny tried another volley. "Now, you two have known each other a long time, right? Charlie, is it true that you and Avery went to culinary school together?"

"Yes, we both attended the Culinary Inst.i.tute of America in Hyde Park." I tried one of Stan's low laughs on for size but it came across as a little s.k.a.n.ky. I quickly cleared my throat. "A long time ago."

Bunny threw back her head in a giggle, but her hair didn't move. "I can hardly believe it was that long ago, my dear. You're a spring chicken! But talk to me about a long time ago, and I'll be picking up what you're putting down!"

Avery roused. "You look great. Bunny. Super. Awesome."

I saw a flicker of hesitation in Stan's eyes, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. "You two are a dynamite pair, you know that? I've watched some of the footage from Thrill Me, and ..." He shook his head and raised two groomed eyebrows. "Can we talk about the heat?"

Bunny shook her head and tsked. "No kidding, Stan. How do you two keep up that pace in the kitchen, night after night?"

Avery became serious. "Not easy. Difficult. Exhausting."

I sat up in my chair. "Avery and I are both very committed to creating meals that people enjoy." I tried to obey Margot's instructions to speak slowly, trying to act as though I were having coffee with a friend. "We try to give our guests memorable food, and we hope the show really gives a good behind-the-scenes peek of a premier kitchen. Kind of a peeping Tom's view into the real story behind delicious food."

Bunny pounced. "Speaking of heat and of peeping Toms, a little birdie told me that someone has been spying on you two. And that you might have been building a little heat of your own. Let's take a look."

I opened my mouth, shut my mouth, tried to formulate a response to the photo that had taken over the image on all the monitors within viewing distance, and therefore, within the contiguous United States of America. It was a photo of Avery and me on the fireplace night, to be sure, but this version was enhanced, very well focused, and taken from an angle that showed me surrendering fully to Avery's kiss. In fact, though I could not remember doing it, I had an urgent arm draped around his neck.

An arm with a hand that had a manicure.

I didn't get manicures.

I could feel The Splotch forming along the neckline of my shirt, up to my ears, along my jaw. This was a rapid-fire Splotch, and it was showing off for FIVE MILLION PEOPLE.

"Mmmm," Bunny said with a mischievous lilt in her voice. "Looks like those ties run deep between you."

Avery put up his hands in defense. "Now, now. That was an accident. Really. Broke up. Long time ago."

I gathered myself enough to say, "We're just good friends."

Stan snorted. "I wish I had a friend that good." Before we could respond, he pushed through to the next bullet point on his index card. "Charlie, I'm glad you brought this up."

I brought nothing up! I felt my jaw clench at the mounting injustices.

"You mentioned you and Avery have had struggles in your relationship but that you are friends to the end."

What was going on? I said nothing of the sort! I leaned forward in my chair and glimpsed Margot shooting me with laser eyeb.a.l.l.s from behind the camera.

Bunny picked up the line of questioning. "How do you achieve a balance between work and relationships in such a demanding profession?"

"Well," I said, trying to draw out the word as I scrambled for a good answer that wasn't blatantly a lie. "I'm still learning how to strike a good balance. I have good days and bad days, I suppose."

Stan nodded, suddenly solemn. "I can imagine it's difficult, particularly when people can be so spiteful. So hateful, really."

Bunny sighed, her eyes widened in concern for me, her new best friend. "Charlie, what would you say to your detractors who have implied that to be a woman in your position, you must have, shall we say, compromised your integrity?"

I felt the bile in my stomach rising up through my esophagus. "I'm not sure where you are getting your information, but-"

"Charlie is a good woman," Avery interrupted, his brow furrowed. "She deserves her position at Thrill and has worked for years to get there."

Bunny sighed. Her false eyelashes batted once as she took in the man who was finally able to speak in full sentences. "What a beautiful defense of someone you truly care about."