I heard laughter coming from the kitchen along with the sounds of pans sizzling. The most surprising thing was the aroma. Aunt Z’s little studio apartment was filled with smells of something good to eat. My stomach growled, and I realized I had hardly eaten anything the whole day.
Aunt Zendaya floated out of the kitchen and set three plates and utensils on the coffee/dining table. “Mango, why didn’t you tell me your stage manager was a master chef?”
“I didn’t know?”
“Well, he is!” She leaned in, eyes sparkling, and whispered, “And he’s awfully cute, too.”
She glided back into the kitchen, and I listened as her laughter filled the air in a really jolly way, like sleigh bells. It reminded me of the way Mom sounded whenever she and Dada were flirting. And then I thought . . . uh-oh.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Magic Bubble
Acorn had to be the best chef in the world next to Dada, or maybe he was the best vegan chef in the world. Dinner was great—the flavors, textures, and colors of the food were amazing. Aunt Zendaya was begging him to give her cooking lessons. Secretly, I was begging him, too! The two of them got along really well, and there was a point when they were so deep in conversation, I’m pretty sure they forgot I was there. After Acorn left, around 11, Aunt Zendaya wouldn’t stop asking me all sorts of questions about him, but I couldn’t tell her much because I’d only met him two days before and also I was exhausted and wanted to go to sleep!
When Zippy arrived the next morning to take me to rehearsal, Aunt Zendaya, who usually slept until at least eleven in the morning, suddenly needed to go to the market so she came downstairs with me. As we walked to the subway, Aunt Zendaya started peppering Zippy with questions about Acorn. I didn’t know why I felt funny about it. I mean, Aunt Zendaya was a beautiful woman and single, as far as I knew. She was trying to keep her questions about Acorn casual, but I could see Zippy’s antennae of suspicion pop up when Aunt Zendaya asked, “How old do you think he is?”
Zippy raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think. I know. He’s twenty-two.”
Aunt Zendaya was quiet for a moment, then said, “He’s obviously very mature for his age.”
Zippy threw me a what’s on her mind glance, and I looked away. If Aunt Zendaya started dating Acorn, would that be weird? It would mean he would come over and cook more and maybe Aunt Zendaya’s cooking would improve. But my mom was thirty-six, which meant Aunt Zendaya was thirty, a whole eight years older than Acorn. The odd thing is, that wouldn’t make much difference if she were the man in the relationship. Many men marry women that are ten or even twenty years younger than they are. So, I decided, if Aunt Zendaya and Acorn started dating, I’d be fine with it. If they got married and had a baby, I’d be the one who brought them together! But hold on—they’d only cooked one meal together and here I was fantasizing about the rest of their lives. I needed to slow down! I had enough to think about without charting my aunt’s future happiness.
I decided I was going to listen to Acorn’s advice, grab ahold of my oars, and row my boat through the river of discomfort until I found my way back to comfortable shores again. My first obstacle: doing whatever I could to break, melt, or crush the ice with Gabriel Faust.
TJ was already in the rehearsal studio when I arrived. I was so happy to see him. “You’re here!” I said. “So you’re staying? You’re going to understudy Romeo, right?”
“Yeah, you convinced me. I’ll understudy Romeo and be in the chorus, too. Maybe even learn to dance.”
“That’s so great!” I threw my arms open wide and gave TJ a big hug. And in the moment, just that fraction of a second when we touched, I remembered him saying, I love you and that kiss after the party. Suddenly I started feeling weird. Not bad weird, but more like, awk-weird, because now I wasn’t sure what I really meant by hugging him. So I sort of backed away quickly and changed the subject. “Lunch today? New York pizza?”
““Yep. Now until forever.”
I decided to let TJ in on my master plan. “I’m going to make friends with Gabriel Faust today. Whatever I have to do to make him open up to me, I’m going to do it.”
“Cool,” TJ said, “I bet he’s a nice guy underneath those humongous sunglasses.”
I detected a drop of sarcasm in his comment but decided to let it slide. Operation Make Friends with a Star was in effect. No one knew better than I did that it took time and care to make a real friendship. I didn’t want to come on too strong—especially if Acorn’s intuition was right and Gabriel Faust was shy and afraid of stepping out of his comfort zone.
What happened next was so totally unexpected that I kind of felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Gabriel Faust came into the studio, took off his huge sunglasses, and looked around the room. Before I had a chance to walk over to him, he called out, “Mango! Hey!” and came charging across the room to wrap me up in a big hug.
Uh . . . what? This was not the guy I’d met the day before. He was like completely the opposite of the quiet, stone-faced mannequin from yesterday. This Gabriel Faust was warm and uber friendly and just like, well, Romper, the character he played on Brat House.
He took my hand and led me over to the table where we’d be having the read-through. “Come on, you sit next to me. Okay?”
“Sure. Yeah,” I said, amazed that my plan was working even though I hadn’t even had a chance to do anything.
“You’re having lunch with me today, so we can get to know each other and everything.”
“Oh. Yeah. That’d be great.” I didn’t know what was happening, but it seemed like everyone else in the room had disappeared and I was in a magic bubble. Just me and Gabriel Faust. He was all I could see, and my BCF was acting like all he could see was me.
The full cast read-through was a blur. I supposed I was saying my lines and singing my songs, but for all I knew, I could have just been sitting there saying, “Blah blah blahddy blah.” I was still dazed when Acorn called the hour lunch break. As everyone was on their way out of the studio, I vaguely recalled TJ standing nearby waving to get my attention. The next thing I knew, the rude chauffeur was opening the back door to the big black SUV with the tinted windows and I was on my way to lunch with my second favorite star.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lunching in the Magic Bubble
The rude chauffeur turned out not to be rude after all. He asked me if I’d like a bottled water, told me to call him Josh, and then raised the tinted glass that separated the back of the SUV from the front. Immediately, Gabriel Faust started asking me a zillion questions.
“Where are you from? How old are you? How did you get started in the business? Who do you live with? How do you like New York? What else have you done? What kind of movies do you like? Do you like to read? Watch TV? Travel? Who’s your favorite star?”
“Um . . . you and Beyoncé.”
“Oh Bey, she’s great. The best. So much fun to hang with.”
“You know Beyoncé?”
“Yeah. Bey and Jay are like family, you know?”
I could NOT believe I was sitting next to someone who actually knew the queen of everything that mattered to me! My heart started racing, but I didn’t want to geek out in front of him, so I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and calmed myself before speaking again. “How did you meet them?”
“I think it was at the Grammys. I wasn’t nominated, but I was presenting. It was a pain, but you know, something you just have to do in the biz. The after-parties are dope. They make it all worthwhile, you know?”
“No . . . not really. I’ve never been to an after-party. Actually, I’ve never even been to a before party.”
“Well, stick with me and you’ll get to go to lots of places you’ve never been before. You know what they say, right?”
“I don’t think so . . .”
“Of course you do!” Gabriel Faust lifted his chin, widened his eyes, and cocked his head to the side just the way he used to do when he was a little kid on TV, and then h
e said it: “Brats rule, fools drool!”
I was stunned for a second, and then I thought I’d better laugh or clap or something. So I did both. I laughed and clapped and that seemed to make Gabriel Faust very happy as he took seated bows. “Works every time. Like magic!” he said.
About twenty minutes later, the SUV pulled up to the curb, and Josh hurried to open the door. I stepped out and looked around. We were on an almost deserted street, with a lot of old storefronts and warehouses, and none of them looked like a restaurant. Gabriel Faust stepped out after me, put on his huge sunglasses, and took my hand. “This way.”
He led me to a dry cleaner. You know, where people take their clothes to get laundered. A bell above the door jingled as we walked in, and a woman with piercings in her ears, nose, and lips stepped out from behind a rack of clothes.
“Are we picking up your laundry?” I whispered.
Gabriel Faust lowered his head and looked at me over his huge sunglasses. “You’re so funny. I love you!” Right away, I knew this wasn’t love the way TJ had said it. This was more of a Hollywood-type, love ya, babe” kind of love.
“Right this way, Faustie,” the hipster girl said, and she led us behind the counter and past the rack of clothes to a rusty metal door. She opened it, and my chin dropped so low, I thought it’d hit the floor.
Behind the door, hip-hop music was playing. The lights were low, and the walls were filled with abstract art and smoky mirrors. All around the room people were sitting at tables, eating. Gabriel was still holding my hand as the hipster girl led us across the room. I almost stumbled when we passed Will Smith. Yes, it was really him, the movie star, TV star, rapper—my mother would absolutely die if she knew I was this close to him! And at another table there was . . . no, it couldn’t be, could it? OMGZ! I was positive it was Taylor Swift, rocking a pair of huge sunglasses even though the dark room was practically a cave!
We got seated at a fancy booth in a corner of the . . . I wasn’t really sure what kind of place this was, so I asked.
Gabriel Faust laughed. “It’s a restaurant, of course. One of my favorites. It’s called The Cleaners.”
I’d never heard of it. “Okay, but . . . was that Taylor—”
“Yeah, but try not to stare. Famous people come here to be around other famous people and just be themselves. No gawkers allowed, you know?”
I quickly turned my neck away from the rest of the room, but I really wanted to stare at T Swizzle and see if I could recognize any other famous faces.
“I’m one of the owners,” Gabriel Faust told me.
“You are?”
“Yeah. I’m in an investment group, and my financial advisers take really good care of me and my money.”
“That lady, Frances Francisco?”
“No, she’s my manager. My personal pit bull. Nobody messes with me, because she is the czar of managers.”
It was all so surreal. Me, Mango Delight Fuller, sitting across from a famous star in a room full of famous stars. All of a sudden, it was hard to catch my breath, and my hands began to shake.
“Hey, are you all right?” Gabriel Faust asked
“I don’t know . . . I feel kind of dizzy.”
He waved his hand and a waiter appeared, like magic. “Get some water, quick.”
The waiter came back as fast as lighting with a glass and four bottles of water. “Flat or sparkling, cold or room temperature?”
I pointed to the room temperature, and he filled my glass. As I sipped, I began to calm down a little bit. Gabriel Faust leaned forward. “Are you okay?” he asked again.
“Yes, I’m fine. I guess I just went a little mega-gaga for a moment. I mean, I’ve never been in a place like this with real stars and . . . I guess my brain needed a chance to catch up to my life and realize I’m sitting in a place like this about to have lunch with Gabriel Faust!”
“Faustie.”
“Huh?”
“Faustie. My squad calls me Faustie.”
“Faustie . . . okay, Faustie!”
“So, what would you like for lunch?”
“May I see a menu, please?”
“There are no menus here. You can order anything you want—sushi, pasta, salads, steak, chicken, smoothies, or even chicken smoothies. Anything your heart desires.”
The thought of chicken smoothies didn’t go down too well, but I did have another idea. “Since coming to New York, I’ve been living with my vegan aunt, and I keep dreaming about bacon cheeseburgers.”
“Your wish is my command.” He lifted his hand and the waiter magically reappeared. Gabriel—I mean, Faustie—ordered a bacon cheeseburger for me and then roast duck empanadas and soup dumplings for himself.
After the waiter left, I smiled at Faustie for a couple of awkward seconds. “You know,” I said, “you’re so different from yesterday.”
He shrugged. “I guess I’m a little shy at first. It takes me a while to get in character around people I don’t know. It’s kind of weird when you’re famous. People expect you to be a certain way and you really just want to be yourself, but at the same time, you’re scared that if you are just being yourself, you’ll disappoint your fans.”
“I’m a fan, and I’m not disappointed.”
“Thanks. But I also have to be careful. Show business is hard, and I’ve learned that you can’t just trust everyone who is nice to you.” He paused for a few seconds and scanned the room, then continued. “People in this business usually want something from you and will do just about anything to get it. You really have to be smart and careful about who to trust.”
I knew what he meant. After being betrayed by my BFFN (best friend for never), Brooklyn, I was trying to be really careful about who I became friends with or let get close to me.
Our lunch came, and I took a bite out of the best bacon cheeseburger in the world. The burger was so juicy and flavorful, the bacon perfectly crisp, the cheese so warm and gooey. I couldn’t help myself—I squealed after that first bite.
Faustie offered me one of his duck empanadas, but before I could take one, my phone started buzzing. I told Faustie I had to check my phone in case it was my parents, but it wasn’t them. It was a face2face from Izzy. “Oh, it’s just my friend. I’ll call her back.”
“No way! Answer it. Go ahead.” Then a devilish smile spread across his face. “Better yet, let me answer it!”
OMGZ! I knew Izzy loved Gabriel Faust, but this might give her a heart attack. Then again, it would be so spicy, and this could be just the pick-me-up she needed. “Okay, go ahead,” I said.
Faustie took my phone and answered it. “Hello! Mango’s phone.”
There was a pause and then I heard Izzy say, “Um, is Mango there?”
“Yes, she’s here. We’re having lunch.”
“You are? But who are . . . wait a minute! OMGZ! Do you know who you are?”
Faustie laughed. “I’m pretty sure I do most of the time.”
“You’re Gabriel Faust!” Izzy screamed so loud that even through the phone, it made the people at nearby tables turn and stare.
I took the phone back from Faustie. “Izzy, calm down! Shhhh!”
Izzy covered her mouth. “Mango!” she stage-whispered. “You’re having lunch with your all-time celebrity crush!”
That was embarrassing. I mean, yes, it was true, but did she have to say it out loud right in front of my all-time celebrity crush? “Izzy!”
“Okay, okay, okay! All right, I’m calm now. So calm. Calm as a clam. Can I speak to him again?”
“I thought you called to speak to me!”
“Let’s be real, Mango. I can speak to you anytime, but Gabriel Faust, I mean, come on! Please!”
I looked to Faustie. He nodded and held his hand out for the phone. “Hi, Izzy,” he said. “I’m Faustie. What do you want to talk to me about?”
There was a long pause before I heard Izzy again. “Um . . . I don’t know. I just, I want to look at you for a minute and then tell you that I loved your
show, even though I didn’t have cable when it first came on, but I’ve seen all the episodes on YouTube, and I like your songs and I wish I could meet you in person.”
“Well, maybe that can be arranged.”
It can? I mean, maybe, that would be so uber crispy!”
“All right, I’ll see what I can do. Nice meeting you, Izzy,” Faustie said, and handed the phone back to me.
I giggled at how star-struck Izzy looked. “I have to finish lunch and get back to rehearsal,” I told her. “I’ll call you tonight.”
“Girl, you’d better. If you don’t, I’ll summon the ghost of my Aunt Maria Magdalena and tell her to haunt you until you do. And believe me, you’ll never sleep again when you see what she looks like after all these years being dead!”
In the background at Izzy’s house, I heard, “Izzy, who are talking to?”
“Oh no!” Izzy said. “It’s the body snatcher. Gotta go, bye!”
“Bye,” I said, and hung up. I turned back to Faustie. “Sorry about that.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. I like her. Maybe we can fly her up for opening night or something.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course I am. It’s important to have your friends around to share your great moments with you. Keeps you grounded.”
At that exact deliriously happy moment, just as I was about to take another bite of the greatest bacon cheeseburger ever, Faustie’s eyes popped out and he did a double take worthy of the character he played on TV. He was staring at someone or something over my shoulder. Remembering what he’d said earlier, I didn’t want to turn around and gawk, but from his expression, I knew it was someone super important. Maybe even Beyoncé! I couldn’t help myself. I turned to look and then I saw her. The star of my favorite TV show, Cupcakers, and Faustie’s ex-bae. It was her. In the flesh! Destiny Manaconda!
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Pop! Goes the Bubble
So there I was in between two of the biggest stars in my world. I was frozen, with my teeth inches away from a juicy bacon cheeseburger that was dripping down my palm. Everything Destiny Manaconda was wearing was on trend or beyond. Her bubblegum pink hair, perfect. Her makeup, perfect. Her nails, perfect! How could anyone be so perfect? She looked like she’d just stepped off the cover of Vogue.
Summer in the City Page 10
