by Jen Calonita
“Should we get going?” Danny asks. “I made reservations for us at eight. They set aside a table for us on the patio overlooking the water. It's the best seat in the house.” He extends his arm and I stand up and take it.
Ten minutes later we're at the restaurant one town over, and we're sitting at a table outside, watching the twinkling lights of boats in the distance. It's a little cool and Danny has already sweet-talked a waiter into giving me his jacket since Danny didn't have one. I'm staring at the menu and thinking about our date so far.
On the car ride over, Danny gave me a quick course in Danny 101. Everything from how he lost his first tooth to the time he was waiting tables in the Hamptons and got a
hundred-dollar tip from George Clooney. I learned the name of his two dogs (Shelby and Magnolia, his Mom's decision, not his), his favorite ice cream flavor (Friendly's butter crunch) and how he got his nickname, Slick (he skidded on a patch of mud during a track meet and fell in headfirst).
Want to know what Danny knows about me?
Absolutely nothing. He didn't ask me a single question about myself. How could he when he's been talking nonstop since he arrived?
“So there I was, trying to decide what to do—break curfew, or follow my best bud, who I knew was getting himself into a sticky situation…”
Danny is telling another story while I decide between lobster ravioli and chicken Parmesan.
“. . . Thank God I chose option B. He broke up with his girl and headed straight for the bar. If I wasn't there he says he probably would have driven home smashed and who knows how it might have ended.”
“Wow.” This is what I've been doing: saying little phrases hereand there to acknowledge him. The one time I tried to interrupt with my own witty story that related to his, he cut me off.
After the waiter has taken our order—he had to step around Phil and Kayla's cameras, plus the sound and lighting guy to get to us—Danny looks at me and smirks as a Frank Sinatra song comes blaring over the outdoor sound system.
“If I didn't ask you to dance right now, I think I'd always regret it,” he tells me and offers me his hand. Oh, God. I hesitate, but Danny doesn't take no for an answer. He pulls me up and into an embrace and starts dancing with me right there on the patio, in front of an older couple celebrating their forty-sixth wedding anniversary and a family with three kids who are flinging spaghetti at one another. I feel self-conscious, but I feel even more so when Danny starts singing in my ear. Loudly.
For some reason, as nice as Danny's voice is, I start to giggle uncontrollably.
“Is something the matter?” he asks. “It's not my voice, is it? Because I've been told I sound like John Mayer.”
“Your voice is great.” I try to muffle my laugh. “Would you mind excusing me for a second?” I try my hardest to control myself. “I have to go to the ladies room.”
“Sure,” Danny says, “but don't think this is the last of our dances.” He winks.
I rush off the patio, expecting Addison and the others to follow. But instead, they stay put. I guess even they know better than to trail me to the bathroom. I ask a waiter where it is, lock myself into the one-person powder room and pull out my phone.
Hallie picks up on the first ring, even though she's probably out with Brandon. “Charlie? Aren't you on a date right now?”
“Bizarro date is more like it.” I quickly fill her in on Danny's self-involved behavior. “Danny is making Brooke look like Mother Teresa.” Hallie laughs. “I don't get it,” I groan. “He was so cute and funny the other night at the party. Tonight I feel like he's auditioning for boyfriend of the year.”
“Either that or he's trying to reenact lame scenes from romantic comedies,” Hallie says. “Dancing in a crowded restaurant? Telling you you're as lovely as a flower? It's almost as if…” she hesitates.
“Almost as if what?” I ask.
“I'm sure I'm wrong.” Hallie instantly sounds nervous. “But it sounds almost as if he rehearsed the whole thing ahead of time.”
“Rehearsed? But what would make him do that?”
And then it hits me. Danny knows about The Cliffs. He knew about the show before he even officially met me. He was a waiter at the premiere party!
“Charlie? Are you still there? You don't think, I mean, he wouldn't, no one would…?”
“Yes, I do,” I tell her, the anger building inside me. “Hallie, I've got to go.”
When I hang up, my hands are shaking. It all makes sense now. Considering the night I was having at the premiere, why would any guy be interested in me?
I race through the dining hall and onto the patio. Danny sees me and stands up. He puts up his hands.
“Take five,” he says. “Your crew decided to take a few
minutes’ break while you were in the bathroom. They'll be back any minute.”
“Why did you ask me out?” I grill him.
Danny looks taken aback. “Don't you want to wait till they're back to…”
“No,” I blurt out. “Why did you ask me out, Danny?”
He looks momentarily confused. “I thought you were cute. And funny.”
“I wasn't funny that night at all,” I remind him. “If anything I was angry and cranky and teary. So what made you ask me out?”
“I…” Danny looks like he wants to jump over the railing and into the water below. The kids at the next table stop flinging food and stare at us, even though their mother is begging them not to.
“It's a simple question,” I say calmly. “And you can't seem to answer it, which makes me think—no, I know—you probably asked me out because I'm on a TV show.”
Danny shifts uncomfortably.
“Well?” My voice is growing louder. “Is that why you asked me out? Come on, Danny. At least be honest. You take me to this perfect restaurant where everything is $40 a plate and up, on a high school waiter's salary. You start dancing with me when there's no dance floor. And every story you tell makes me think you're auditioning for a movie. What gives?”
I'm furious now and Danny just shakes his head. He pulls off his microphone. “I didn't sign up for an interrogation.”
I'm right? I was pushing for this response, but now that he's said it, I feel a little woozy. “Sign up?”
He shakes his head. “They told me you were pushy, but they didn't say you were insane. Do you really want to do this here?”
“Do what?” I feel ill. “Who told you—wait—are you saying what I think you're saying?”
Danny looks around cautiously. “They picked me. I didn't pick you.”
“Who did?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
“The show!” Danny exclaims. “They even gave me your number.”
I think I need to sit down. I got more than I bargained for with that answer. I thought Danny was a fraud, but the people at the network are, too? My legs feel like they're going to buckle. The show set me up on a fake date? They planted a guy at the premiere party to ask me out? The show did this. The show. That means Addison. How could she do this to me?
“They said we'd have one date and you'd be all happy, but instead you've been sullen all night and just weird,” Danny goes on. “Nice TV moment.”
“Me?” I can't help but laugh. “You haven't let me get a word in edgewise. I think you should leave.”
“With pleasure,” Danny says and drops his microphone, wire, and battery box on the table.
I turn to watch him go and that's when I see Addison, Phil, Hank, and company making their way back outside. Addison takes one look at Danny's face and then at the table.
“What's wrong?” Addison freaks.
I ignore her and throw my microphone down on the table. I start to unhook my battery pack. “You know what happened,” I say, feeling eerily calm.
“No, I don't,” Addison is panicked. “Why is Danny leaving? Did something happen?”
Everything that's been bothering me has reached its boiling point and I finally explode. “Stop lying!” I snap. I'm in he
r face. “You set me up! You hired Danny to go out with me! He just admitted it to me!”
Addison's jaw drops. “What? No. No. That's not possible.”
“Of course it is. You guys will do anything to get good story lines. I thought this was supposed to be a reality show,” I say, my voice shaking. “Not surreality. How could you do this?”
Addison looks forlorn. “I didn't! I swear. Charlie, I know how upset you've been about Zac. I thought you were getting over him and that's why you were going out with Danny. It wasn't me—”
I hold my hand up in front of her face. Hot, angry tears spill down my cheeks. “Save your speech for someone who cares. You're a liar. You're the only one who could have done this! I don't want to hear any more.” My voice cracks and the tears stars start coming harder now. I motion to the other patrons who are watching, gobsmacked. “You guys enjoy your meal.
I hear the lobster ravioli is amazing. I'm out of here.”
fourteen
Somebody Throw Me a Life Preserver
I'm so mad that if I were a cartoon character, you would see steam shooting out of my head. If I could, I would yell at everyone on my evil list—Danny, Brooke, Addison, even the school bus driver, who jokingly said our show reminded him of The Jerry Springer Show.
I can't eat. I can't sleep. I don't want to talk to anyone, even Hallie and Keiran, who I haven't spoken to since I called them crying after my fake date to tell them what happened. Addison's left me ten messages between my house, cell, and texts. I haven't answered any of them. Mom says I'm acting like I'm three, but I don't care. I want to be left alone and I guess because of that I'm growling at anyone who gets in myway.
But mad or not, I still have to show up at a TV Guide photo shoot today. Our first- and second-week numbers for the show were good enough that the media has taken notice, and Addison told us that the TV Guide shoot will probably be the first of many offers piling in. She even suggested we might want to get a publicist, although the Fire and Ice publicist, Mandy, can coordinate and deal with our requests. I'd already said yes to the shoot before the Mr. Inflated Ego (aka Danny) incident so now I have to smile for the camera even though there is a permanent scowl on my face.
“Hey,” Hallie says, when she and Keiran pick me up to drive over to the Marina. “Is it okay to say hi or are you still taking peoples’ heads off ?”
I give Hallie a withering stare.
“Yep, she's still in wicked queen mode,” notes Keiran. “Off with their heads!” Keiran says it with a thick accent and makes a chopping motion and the two of them start to laugh, which makes me laugh—just a little.
“That wasn't so hard, was it?” asks Hallie, looking at me through the rearview mirror of her mom's Volvo. Hallie got her license last week (which, of course, was captured on tape for the show even though she was a nervous wreck about the test). Hallie's mom has been more than generous with her wheels—as long as they're only used during the day. She's too anxious to let Hallie take the car at night yet, which is fine because Brandon drives so Hallie doesn't need a car
that much.
“I fully admit I'm weepy and whiny and in full-on annoying Meredith mode, but I can't help it,” I tell them. When one of us is extra grumpy and full of complaints, we call that person a Meredith, which is code for Grey's Anatomy's constantly whimpering resident. “I don't know how I'm even going to look at Addison,” I add. “I don't want to wear a mic, take cues, or dress up for the camera. I feel used.”
“Maybe Addison wasn't the one who used you,” Keiran says quietly.
“Kiki, have you been listening?” Hallie asks, her brown curls bouncing angrily as she stresses her point. “It has to be Addison! She's in charge of the show.”
“Maybe that's what we're supposed to believe,” Keiran says, staring out the window. She looks so pretty with her blond hair held back by a headband and with her beloved J. crew green cardigan on.
“She is in charge,” I insist. “She's the one who handles the day-to-day stuff. She gives us our schedules. She's the one who wanted Marleyna on the show, not Susan. Addison knew I was upset about Zac. She had to be the one who set me up with Danny.”
“Did Danny mention Addison's name?” Keiran asks.
“No,” I stammer, “but still.” I look at her oddly. “Do you know something?”
“I know you were lied to,” Keiran says angrily. “We all were. We were duped into thinking the show they wanted was one that was about us, but instead it feels like they're constantly creating scenarios for us that fit what they want our lives to be. God forbid our lives aren't exciting every moment of the day! ‘Nothing witty to say today, Keiran? Maybe we should just drop you.’”
“Who's being dropped?” I question as I check my reflection in my compact. My black hair isn't too bad-looking today; I blew it out straight.
“No one,” Keiran says quickly. “I was just making a point.”
Hallie looks at me curiously through the rearview mirror. “Kiki, is there something going on that you're not telling us?”
“No,” Keiran says firmly. “I'm just mad for Charlie and for all of us. This isn't what I thought we were signing up for.”
“Me either,” Hallie admits and looks both ways before making a right turn. “I haven't minded the taping so much, but seeing myself on TV has been cringe-inducing. I really enjoyed how the second episode focused on what a huge flirt I am and how all I care about is guys,” she says sarcastically and rolls her eyes. “My mother so loved seeing that.”
“It's the way they edit,” I agree. “Anything can be altered to fit what they need. I can only imagine what the Danny date will look like. At least no one watching will know that he was hired by the show to date me.”
Hallie and Keiran don't say anything.
Oh no. “What?” I ask nervously.
“We were waiting for the right time to tell you this.” Keiran hands me a piece of paper. It's a printout from a website.
“My brother found it when he was surfing the web last night,” Hallie says. “He said the story was picked up by several sites, like E! Online.”
I don't want to look at this. It can't be good, but I can't tear my eyes away.
“I don't want to read any more.” I hand the paper back to Keiran and take some deep breaths. In and out. Out and in. Slowly. Slower still. I will not get manic.
“Are you okay?” Keiran asks quietly, looking over her shoulder at me, slumped down in the backseat, picking at the threads of my jeans.
The angry tears that have been so frequent the past few days spring back to my eyes. “No, I'm not.”
“He's a jerk, Charlie!” Hallie says defiantly. “I can't believe a guy would stoop that low. Wait till I tell Brandon. Do you want him to track Danny down and pummel him?”
I shake my head. “I don't need any more press.”
Zac is going to see this. What's he going to think? I feel like such a fool.
Hallie pulls into the Cliffside Marina parking lot. It's just a short walk to the actual boat slips and the boats kept by half the town. That's where the shoot is taking place. Apparently TV Guide thought it would be fun to have us beach girls shot on a large boat. Yeah, that's original. Sigh. Maybe I'm just bitter.
When we get out of the car, I can hear music thumping in the distance. A large boat near the end of the slip is full of people and I can see camera equipment and flashes. That must be the boat.
Keiran grabs my arm. “Does that boat look familiar to any of you?”
“It's a big, fancy, schmancy boat.” Hallie shrugs. “They all look the same. It's probably some local hoping to make gas money.”
Keiran shakes her head. “I don't think the owner of that boat needs gas money. Look at the name on the back of the boat. You've seen it before.”
Hallie inhales sharply. “NO. WAY.”
My eyes nearly bulge out of my head. “They're using Marleyna's boat?” I freak. “Are they crazy?”
Further proof that Addison is a big f
at liar who doesn't care a shred about us. All she cares about is the show! How ironic is it that it's okay to acknowledge the show within the show now by taping our TV Guide shoot, after Addison stressing forever that we can't talk about the show on camera. I am calling Susan.
“I am not going on there,” Keiran says defiantly. “I can't stand that girl.”
“Brooke must be eating this up,” says Hallie bitterly.
“I'm calling Addison,” Keiran says and punches the numbers in her cell phone. A second later she groans. “It went right to voice mail.”
“What do we do?” Hallie asks.
“I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we have to go.” I make a face. “We can't not show up. TV Guide will freak.”
“So?” Keiran demands. “They didn't give us all the details. This is entrapment. I bet they did this on purpose just to force another confrontation with Brooke and Marleyna.”
“So let's give them what they want,” Hallie pushes. “They want a war, we'll give them one. I am not being nice to either of them just because the camera is on.” She tugs on Keiran's and my arms. “Let's go.”
“Addison has turned the screws on us again,” I tell them angrily.
“You let us worry about Addison,” Hallie tells me. She's staring straight ahead at the boat slips and the dock we're fast approaching. Her beaded flip-flops clack and click as she walks. “You just concentrate on getting through this photo session. Brandon is stopping by later anyway and if they give us any trouble, I'm sure he can take care of them. You have enough to worry about.”
I smile at her and open the gate to the dock. “Thanks, Hallie.”
The three of us slowly approach the back of the boat. I wasn't really paying attention to Marleyna's boat the night of our party, but now I can't help but stare. Up close, the boat looks like it's the size of my house. There is a mammoth outdoor deck area with a wet bar and several white cushioned seats and banquets, and sliding glass doors that must lead to the interior kitchen and bedrooms below. There is a camera crew, which I assume is TV Guide's, setting up lighting and taking test shots, but I don't see any sign of Brooke or Marleyna. Addison is MIA too. Above the deck is a smaller one for the captain. Since we're staying docked, the crew has cameras up there to capture every angle. Hank spots us and runs over with our mics and our battery packs. Without asking, he hooks us up.
