Sugar: A Novel Part 22

"Welcome, everyone, to this evening's event. We are proud and grateful such a star-studded group of people has joined us for the debut of the most-talked-about show of the season, Thrill Me."

The room pulsed with applause. I felt eyes studying me as Avery came again to stand by my side. Midge looked miffed to have been displaced.

"Tonight is all about indulgence," Vic continued. "The food, the wine, our beautiful surroundings, all you attractive people." An appreciative chuckle rose from the room, though no one looked particularly surprised by Vic's compliment. "We want you to enjoy yourself. We hope you feel as if this room and this moment is an escape from the harsh reality of the world outside. After all, in our business, we make shows about other people's realities so you don't have to face your own."

This comment educed an enthusiastic round of applause. One of the naked surfers/s...o...b..arders even raised his gla.s.s to me from across the room.

"So settle into this evening," Vic said. "Find your seat, relax, and embrace all we have done to leave you feeling nothing short of thrilled."

"Nice," Avery said appreciatively as he tipped his chin to Vic. "Working a crowd like that. Pipe dream for me. One day, maybe."

I followed him through the crowd to the table by the fireplace that he'd pointed out as being reserved for us. I winced a little inside-this was the last place I wanted to spend any time. "Are you familiar with the concept of verbs?"

He made a face while he gestured for me to take one of the white chairs. "I'm sure that's a really great insult, but I don't know grammar. So it doesn't even work on me."

I sipped from a gla.s.s of wine offered to me by one of the hired staff. The thought came to me unbidden, but I couldn't help noting Kai would have appreciated my joke. Kicking off my ghastly heels, I tucked them out of sight and reached for a plate of food to begin my emotional eating.

But moments after I'd successfully pushed him out of my mind, Kai returned and with a vengeance. TiffanTosh had found their way to our table, settling themselves on one of the cozy couches. I sat next to them in a wing chair, while Avery took one of two seats on another couch. We had been given very clear marching orders from Margot that Avery and I should spend a good part of the evening in close proximity, but we were not to act like a couple. When I reminded her that would not be an obstacle, as we were not, in fact, a couple, she shrugged.

"These things are fluid," she said. "There's no harm in letting people wonder."

Avery and I had begun a discussion about the food on the table and what each dish might contain when a server approached our table and stood behind our only empty chair. "Miss," she said to me, "are we still waiting for this gentleman?"

I glanced up from a plate of figs and goat cheese. "Which gentleman?"

The server consulted her electronic tablet. "My guest list indicates we are to expect one more in this party. Kai Malloy."

I swallowed. Avery stopped talking midsentence.

"No," I said coolly. "I'm afraid Mr. Malloy won't be joining us tonight."

"All right," the girl said, drawing out her words. Her forehead creased. "I'll mark it down here then. Change to party of four." She looked doubtful, as though she suspected I was in the habit of lying about seating arrangements.

"That was weird," Avery said, his voice forcibly perky. "I thought you told Margot about the change in reservation a few weeks ago."

"So, party of four then." The server still hovered by the empty chair. She appeared to be having trouble with her stylus and kept tapping the tablet with increased irritation.

"Party of five." Tova sat down in the empty s.p.a.ce on Avery's couch in one, sparkly motion. "You don't mind, do you?"

I was pretty sure Tova's eyelashes were fake, but I was entirely certain there was a reason she was batting them at Avery's surprised face. I'd merely have to hang around long enough to find out.

"Yes. I mean, no. Of course we don't mind. I certainly don't. Do you?" Avery's question, I supposed, was intended for the rest of us, but he kept his eyes on Tova as if they were meeting for the first time.

"Tova," I said, my mouth full of chocolate hazelnut bread pudding. "Where is Donny?" Let's get that underwear model over here to fill that chair!

"Oh, Donny," she said with a one-shouldered shrug. Already the name sounded foreign on her lips. "He's talking shop with a Victoria's Secret model." Tova appeared to be much less bothered by that statement than the average American woman.

I was grateful when the overhead lights dimmed a few minutes later. I sank back into the cushions of my chair and willed myself to stop looking at the empty chair directly across from me. Time to watch our crowning achievement, I said to myself. Look alive. Look happy. Look like you've earned this moment.

The theme music for the show played, and I found myself transfixed by the intro. One by one, the main "characters" filled the outsized flat screen that had been rented for the occasion. First our faces appeared, expertly made-up, followed by our first names in sleek white lettering. Avery and Tova huddled together, whispering to each other about what was happening on the screen. Avery did lean across Tova to nudge me when my name and face appeared during the opening sequence, but after a few minutes in, I knew that my viewing pleasure was going to be a solitary one.

In Vic and Margot terminology, the "story arc" of the first episode centered on how I came to join the crew at Thrill. I saw Avery as he'd looked when he approached Chet with the idea of bringing me on board. Unknown to me at the time, cameras had rolled when Avery had called me in New York. They caught every part of his reaction and my voice on speakerphone as I'd opened the rhubarb tart, the label maker, the boxes. It all seemed like a lifetime ago. Watching it unfold in front of me, seeing the smug triumph on Avery's face when I said yes, I felt the joy of that moment whittle down to a feeling I recognized as regret.

Tova squealed after seeing her first interview, educing an appreciative round of laughter and applause from the other viewers in the room. When she and I met for the first time, some hidden camera had captured the look on my face, one of surprise and maybe a smidge of annoyance.

"But you grew to love her, didn't you, Char?" Macintosh Rowe asked loudly, and the room again rumbled with laughter. Tova hid her face in Avery's shoulder in mock embarra.s.sment.

I watched the rest of the episode, marveling that all the people around me, and all the people sitting at home in front of their TVs, were witnessing scenes from my life. Edited scenes, for sure. Pretty-haired scenes with sweeping sound effects. Scenes where I was courted, wooed, and brought to a new place without realizing the whole thing would be replayed in front of millions. Scenes that represented a part of me, certainly. But scenes. Chapters. A few sentences here and there. I stole a glance at the empty chair, wishing someone who knew the whole story could sit here with me and remind me who I really was.

Full lights came on again, and the room erupted in cheering and applause. I smiled and kept smiling when Avery stood and pulled me to my feet beside him. Tova looked up at us, grinning and clapping. TiffanTosh, looking impossibly elegant as they draped limbs around each other, clapped appreciatively.

Some idiot at the back of the room started chanting for a speech, and the idea took hold. Avery looked at me with bug-eyes, and I knew he was not going to be the one to address the crowd, at least not without another stiff drink and a tranquilizer.

I turned my face toward the group, feeling my cheek muscles twinge after so much smiling.

"Thank you," I said. "Avery has nominated me to talk, as he's suffering from a bit of stage fright these days. Did anyone catch us on Rise and Shine, America last week?"

Avery laughed and made a silencing motion with his hand. "Quarantined," he said and was rewarded with hearty laughter.

"Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone," I said. "It's great to have you all here to celebrate with us." The empty chair was staring me down, so I lifted my gaze to where Margot stood in the back of the room. Her somber expression had a way of jolting me back into the importance of this situation. "Many of you know what it feels like to work hard and finally get to the place you've devoted so much time and so much of yourself to."

My throat tightened. I took a deep breath and smiled. "I've been working in kitchens for a long time. Some of them were large and impressive and intimidating." I remembered the feeling of despair when I'd arrived at L'Ombre and thought I'd never get the hang of how to roll out a single pastry much less please Felix and Alain. "And some of those kitchens were out-dated, cramped, and crawling with the st.u.r.diest of all creatures, the Manhattan c.o.c.kroach."

I saw a few nods of recognition. Margot remained immovable, focused on me.

"And all this time I've been working toward achieving a view like this, a view from the top of a long, hard climb."

I paused. My cheeks trembled with the effort of keeping the smile in place. I looked at the expectant faces gazing my way and realized I'd stopped talking for too long. Margot made a sign for me to wrap it up.

"So now I have my view," I said. Macintosh cleared his throat. I looked down but couldn't seem to focus on what he was trying to tell me.

"Char," Avery whispered. I turned to him, startled when I realized I was crying. "Are those happy tears, Charlie?"

I shook my head, tears falling freely now. I wiped one cheek with the back of my hand and saw streaks of mascara smeared on my fingers. Looking across the crowd, I felt utterly, completely, irrepressibly alone. My gaze stopped on Margot, who was making no attempt to hide her disappointment.

"What does a girl do," I said, the words choking me, "when she doesn't like the view?"

The question hung in the air-even the music of wine gla.s.ses and china stilled for a moment. I picked up my clutch, heavy with the business cards of people who now watched me with wide eyes as I walked out the door.

It took me two blocks to realize I'd left my shoes behind.

30.

"NOT bad," I said aloud to my empty apartment. "Seven extra grams of grated nutmeg makes all the difference. Best cinnamon-streusel pumpkin m.u.f.fin ever. Or at least so far." I opened my eyes, making a slow a.s.sessment of my kitchen. Four other batches of pumpkin m.u.f.fins littered the countertop, many of them on their sides after I took one bite and impatiently tossed them aside. This batch, the fifth, was the queen of the bunch.

"I do have some reservations about the pecans." My fluffy panda-head slippers slapped on the wood floors as I walked back to the oven. Holding my b.u.t.ter-smudged working recipe up to the light, I considered the next round of alterations. "I wonder about almonds. Or no! Pistachios!" I made a hasty note and groaned when I heard the buzzer announcing I had a visitor who wanted to come up the elevator.

"I told Omar no visitors," I muttered while walking to the phone. "What?" I snarled. "Avery, I'm tired of this conversation. The answer is no second season. No. Non. Nyet. Nada."

"Listen, nada is Spanish for 'nothing.' If you're going to freak out, at least get your vocab right." Manda sounded as if she were about to put me in time-out. "Let me up. Omar is giving me the evil eye."

Knowing I had to face the Manda music at some point, I pushed the b.u.t.ton to allow her entry and remained slumped against the counter when the elevator door opened.

"Heavenly days," she breathed when she saw me. "You're worse than last week." She pointed her finger at my face and spoke sternly. "Did you watch the episode last night after all? I thought you said you weren't going to watch the rest of the season because it made you want to commit crimes."

I rolled my eyes and made a face, which, apparently, did not help because Manda recoiled. "What?" I pulled my fingers through my hair. "So I haven't showered for a couple days."

She put her hands on her hips.

"Okay, more than a couple days. And no, I did not watch last night's episode, thank you very much. Though I'm sure all my Facebook besties from high school did and will be messaging me all day to get the inside scoop on my awesome life. So many friends, none of them real." I swallowed the ire rising in my throat.

Manda nodded at the counters. "Pumpkin cupcakes?"

"m.u.f.fins. With streusel." I plucked one from the most recent batch and tossed it to her. "This is the best so far. You know, baking is really fun when you don't have to worry about snotty people in the dining room, or a crazy boss, or camera crews or restaurant critics." I bit into my second m.u.f.fin and chewed around the b.u.t.tery crumbs in my mouth. "I'm pretty good at it."

Manda chewed thoughtfully. "You are. You're right. These are delicious. So were last week's apple turnovers."

"Mmm. The puff pastry was wicked good."

"And the rum chocolate cakes from the week before."

"I loved those. I should make more of those."

Manda snagged my third m.u.f.fin while it was on its way to my mouth. "Slow down, there, tiger. You're going to feel sick again, like after the cheesecake bites last weekend. Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing." She turned my shoulders toward the master bedroom. "You go take some time to scrub the grime off your skin and hair while I clean up out here. And then we will talk."

"I can talk with greasy hair. It's easy," I whined. Showering sounded like a lot of work, and I was onto something with the pistachios. I just needed a few more hours.

"But I'd rather look at you when you don't appear to be in need of social services. Go."

I muttered something about being prejudiced against the homeless, but I obeyed Manda's orders. The walk-in shower steamed up quickly with hot water, and I stood under the spray for a long time with my eyes closed, chin raised. By the time I had washed every inch of skin, shampooed twice, and shaved an astonishing amount of hair off my legs, I felt dizzy with the expended effort. I kept my hair wrapped in a towel when I walked back to the kitchen in a clean T-shirt and jeans.

"This role reversal is chilling," I said, taking in the image of Manda dumping a stack of old newspaper into the recycling bin.

"Tell me about it," she said, picking up a browned apple core from a table by the couch and disposing of it. "I never thought I'd live to see the day when my neurotic best friend leaves an empty coffee cup unattended so long the dregs turn to mold."

"No!" I gasped.

"Yes. And I'm happy to see you are repulsed." She sat down heavily on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. "Come sit. I made you tea."

My feet on the ottoman and settled under the blanket I'd dragged off my bed days before, I took the mug she offered. My nose wrinkled on the first inhale. "What is this stuff?"

She pursed her lips. "Kava. It's good for anxiety and depression. Just in case you're experiencing one of those things."

I took a cautious sip. The tea tasted better than it smelled. "Cardamom, cinnamon ... " I took another sip. "Maybe some licorice."

"Charlie." Manda tilted her head, her eyes large and penetrating. "Tell me how you are."

I shrugged. My fingers drew warmth from the ceramic in my hands. "I'm all right. Getting my head back on straight, I guess." My whole body felt tired. "It's taking some time."

"Have you talked with anyone at the restaurant?"

I shook my head. "Not really. I still grant phone interviews to keep Margot and Vic happy, but mostly, I'm out of the picture." I took a long pull of my tea and shuddered when it scalded my tongue. "Tova and Avery have been hitting the media circuit, which turns out to be better for everyone."

"I saw them talking with Kelly Ripa yesterday." Manda couldn't help looking guilty. "Sorry. They did great. Avery did a cooking spot, and Tova had everyone eating out of her hand with her self-deprecating comments and perky b.o.o.bs."

I searched my heart of hearts but could not summon even a spark of jealousy. "I'm happy for them. They're getting exactly what they wanted."

Manda adjusted the blanket to cover her legs, too. "And what do you want, Char?"

I stared out the wall of windows that soared just beyond where we were sitting. After all my months in Seattle, the vista from my couch still took my breath away. I inhaled slowly, then exhaled in a rush. Pulling my gaze away from the mountains, the Sound, the clouds that seemed to be floating just beyond my fingertips, I looked at my best friend.

"I'm moving back to New York."

She swallowed, and I could see her trying to control her reaction. "Why?" She fingered the fringe on the blanket. "I'm pretty sure I know the answer to that question, but I think it would be good for me to hear you say it. Closure. You know? Like an open casket."

My eyebrows arched. "Nice comparison. I'm moving to Manhattan, not to the morgue. Though some have made comparisons."

Manda pressed on. "But why are you moving back? You finally have the top spot in the pastry kitchen at Thrill. Can't you just go to work and not be a part of the second season? Or take a sabbatical whenever they're shooting?"

I smiled. "Sounds reasonable. But I'm afraid it's totally impractical. Margot and Vic would never go for it, not to mention how Avery would feel about it." I shook my head. "I can't go back there."

We were quiet for a moment until Manda spoke again, likely knowing the answer before she'd even finished her question. "What about working somewhere else? We have lots of restaurants in this city, you know."

"I know." I smoothed my wet hair with one hand, avoiding her gaze. "I think it would be better to make a clean break. New York is a great place to become anonymous again."

Manda nodded, and I could see it pained her.

I cleared my throat and tried for a cheery tone. "But listen. I have great news. Alain called from L'Ombre, and he offered me Felix's job."

Some of the gloom lifted from Manda's eyes. "Seriously? That's fantastic, Char. So Alain finally made good on his promise, eh?"

I threw the blanket off my legs, suddenly feeling too warm. "Can you believe it? Felix actually retired and they're holding the position open for me." I walked to the window and cranked a handle off to one side. "Look at this," I said as the window creaked. "I found this a few days ago when I burned a batch of madeleines and the exhaust fan wasn't keeping up. This window opens." I looked back at Manda, victorious.

She frowned. "Charlie, that is the smallest crack of fresh air I have ever seen. It's pathetic."

I frowned. "Well, at least it's something." I leaned into the crack and took a deep, long sniff. "Pretty soon I'll be back in the city where my only choices will be recycled indoor air pollution or outside air pollution. I'll be yearning for a breathful of this."

Manda came to stand next to me and tugged me into a hug. We stood, arms around each other, friends through school dramas, birthed babies, heartbreak, lost jobs, lost loves, gained weight, lost weight, and many, many years of days all piled up into a big ball of affection and friendship and fidelity.

"Are you sad you moved out here in the first place?" Manda's voice sounded small.

I kept my cheek on her shoulder. "Not at all," I said. "I've loved living close to you, even if we never saw each other as much as we wanted."