I shake my head.
“Well,” Brooke starts to whisper as if she thinks Jill can hear us one whole floor down. “A few months ago the tabloids starting printing stories about Jill using pesticides in her juices, or was it that she was using additives? I can’t remember. Anyway! Her stocks fell and have been sitting pretty low ever since. It’s why she's counting on the new pregnancy juice line and skincare line to skyrocket.”
“Why does she think Diana started the rumors?” I ask.
“Because she heard it from a mutual friend of hers, that Diana was singing that story loud and proud over the summer.” Brooke shrugs then. “Diana really only has Reagan and even Reagan’s patience will run out after one too many criticisms from Di. We both know Diana never gives me the time of day, so she’s on her own.”
“I appreciate you trying to cheer me up,” I tell her, my arms fold over my chest. “But if you really came here because Oscar thought I would say ‘to hell with it!’ and break my contract anyway, you don’t have to worry. I won’t do that.”
Because I don’t have a penny to my name, and don’t want to be sued.
Brooke’s hands leave her hips and she comes at me, for a hug. “So you’ll stay?”
“Yes, I’m staying.”
Brooke engulfs me in one of her mom hugs, squeezing me and shaking me back and forth as she holds on. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun! We film the first scene tonight at dinner and I can’t wait!”
Chapter Five
Hair and makeup arrive at 3pm to get me ready for the six o’clock dinner. My makeup artist is quick, airbrushing my foundation within seconds and giving me a natural look. Something I hadn’t done in years. The hair team throws my hairs in curlers while this happens and by the time my makeup is finished, they remove them, leaving my hair in loose, soft curls down my torso.
The wardrobe people arrive just as I leave the bathroom and gave me a selection of three pieces. I chose a knee length black skirt and a linen denim shirt, which is tied at my waist. I attach Ange’s emerald brooch against my right breast and forgo the six inch heels the wardrobe woman insists.
“I plan to be drinking quite a bit tonight,” I tell the wardrobe supervisor. “Six inch heels are just asking for trouble.”
She screams back, as she points at my knee high flat boots. “Those don’t go with the outfit!”
By five o’clock there is a knock at my door, and a woman from the makeup team slowly opens it. In waltz’s Declan Gentry, with another man and the woman, Liz, I met earlier. They move around the wardrobe team and in Liz’s hands are two objects I know very well. A small black box, known as my mic box and a tiny, round microphone with a long wire.
“Ready?” Declan asks me as he motions to Liz.
I turn from him and look at myself in the blank television. I like the outfit I choose, but the wardrobe supervisor is right. The boots look awful and as I make a face, the wardrobe supervisor stands upright with a haughty grin. She shoves the six inch heels in my face.
I grab them with a grunt as Liz begins to lift up the back of my shirt. I feel the mic box get clipped to the back of my skirt and secured as the cool wire of the microphone hits my lower back. I lift my hands in the air as she pulls the wire through my shirt and around to my front. She sticks her hands up my shirt, apologizing as she grazes my breasts, and clips the tiny microphone to my bra.
“Sorry,” she says to me again, then gives Declan a side eye. “They have wireless mics now but Declan doesn’t trust those, apparently.”
“They don’t always connect,” he tells her as he watches her finishing up. When she’s done and out of the way, Declan walks up to me. “Okay, we're going to film your entry. After that choose what you want to order. The food will come out a few minutes later. We’re going to open with Brooke asking everyone what they’ve been up to. You answer last. Diana makes a grand entrance cutting you off. Camera is going to focus on you—”
“Ha. Of course.” I roll my eyes at him. “Do you want a mouth drop? Or eye daggers? How about a snort and choke through my wine?”
“Any of those would work,” he gives me a quick, cool smile and then goes on. “Dinner is going to be awkward, Diana is going to name drop Adam several times. At one point, it’d be nice if you make a snide joke about him under your breath to Jill.”
“That’s not very me,” I sigh. He gives me a skeptical look and I shrug at him. “Anymore.”
I’m supposed to pretend to be all over Diana and Adam, and moved on. Like Angie reminded me. I have to hold the upper hand.
“Then fake it,” he commands. “Give a snide remark to Jill—”
“Why Jill?” I ask as I start to switch off my shoes.
“Because she’s sitting next to you.”
“Where is Reagan sitting?” I wonder.
“Across from you, next to Brooke,” he replies watching me. “Why?”
“Can she sit next to me?”
He frowns at me. “What’s the difference?”
I let out a sigh. It’s like pulling teeth. “Never mind. Whatever...So I make a joke and?”
“Awkward and tense looks from Diana. Jill jumps in with her cue, and during her spat with Diana, Reagan and Brooke come in to diffuse the situation.”
“Fine.”
With the incredibly high heels on my feet, I stand straight and set my hands on my hips. “Let’s just get this over with.”
It takes ten minutes for them to film my entrance into the restaurant. In and out, in and out. The few patrons already eating dinner are gawking over their wine and appetizers.
When my entrance is finally over, I head to our table at the very back of the restaurant against the wall of windows. Our table is one of the long, rectangular ones, tea light candles in mason jars sit as our centerpieces. Brooke, Jill and Reagan are already seated.
I let out a sigh of relief to myself when I notice that Jill is now next to Brooke and Reagan is next to me.
I reach the table, the camera spans across my face so I smile huge at them. “Hi, guys!”
I have to remember, to the camera and viewers, this is the first time we officially meet after all these years.
Brooke jumps up and rushes to me with a giant hug. As we part, Jill reaches up and grasps my arm as she tells me how great it is to see me, but Reagan…Reagan only gives me a pierced smile before picking up her glass of white wine.
“Hi, Reagan,” I greet on cue.
She takes a quick drink of her wine before looking at me quickly. “Hi.”
Two camera’s zoom across the table, one focusing from me to Reagan and one focusing on the obvious exchange of eye contact Jill and Brooke give each other.
Oh right, so they want to pull on the tension between me and Reagan.
Figures.
I hurry to my spot next to Reagan, making sure to keep my eyes off the film crew including Oscar who stands hovering over the table with Declan behind him. The boom lands over our table in the air on Oscar’s instruction.
“So, ladies.” Brooke leans over her plate, looking from me to Reagan. “What’s going on? What have I missed?”
Jill opens with her explanation about the current formula for organic juices for expectant mothers. The camera pans over Reagan’s face as it contorts, hearing Jill’s beets and orange combination.
“That’s more productive than what I feel like I’m doing!” Brooke exclaims as she picks up her glass of red wine. She lifts it in the air and then takes a quick sip. “Honestly, I feel like my assistant has come up with the spring and fall lines!”
Reagan asks her how the fashion empire is going and Brooke spews into a rant about a model before asking Reagan if it was true she had recently redone George Clooney’s house. Reagan winks and shrugs, “I’ll never tell.”
Brooke claps and laughs, throwing her head back. “I knew it! I knew it wasn’t a rumor!”
“Is it true, does he have a room dedicated to posters o
f him in Dusk to Dawn?” Jill asks.
I smirk as Brooke laughs again. She asks Jill, “Why would he have that?”
She shrugs as she reaches for her water, “They say he loved the way he looked in that movie.”
“He most definitely does not have a room for that,” Reagan laughs, her shoulders bounce a bit and it makes me smile. She abruptly points at Jill, “He does have a room for his awards though. And no, an Oscar is not made of chocolate.”
“Oh my god,” Jill suddenly mutters. She’s looking to her left, and I know that’s my tip off. As if natural, I lean closer to Reagan to pretend to see what has caught Jill’s attention. I hear Brooke gasp and see her look over at me. I spot Diana crossing the restaurant in a tight, pink mini dress with a mink shawl. Her hair flipped out like Farrah Fawcett. My mouth hangs, and I slowly click my tongue as I look away.
Though my shock may be fake, the gurgle of rage that engulfs me is very real. She looks sensational, as always. Right off a couture runway.
I reach for my wine glass as Diana greets us and takes a seat at the head of the table. I pretend to ignore her darting glances as I chug my red wine.
Oscar yells, “Cut!” and we all relax.
“Well done ladies!” he then shouts. He claps at us and then elbows Declan, “They did wonderful no?”
“Great,” Declan says without looking up from the tablet he holds in his hands.
I roll my eyes at his indifference.
Some producer.
“Interesting outfit, Julie,” Diana suddenly quips my way after she notices I’m the only one with my eyes not on her.
“The cameras are off,” Jill says. “Save the drama, Diana.”
Diana’s eyebrows raise and her hands come down on the table. She opens her mouth to retort but Oscar appears in her way. “Please save it for the cameras.”
The waiter appears at our table and Oscar steps back. “Ah, good. Everybody order now please. Five minute break and we will restart. The first scene was good, excellent tension, excellent…” he makes a frowny face, “face expressions. Let’s keep it up, yes?”
“I’ll just have the mango salad, but easy on the chili sauce,” Diana tells the waiter as she looks at the menu. “Last time, you guys added so much, I sweated through my clothes and swelled up like a balloon.”
“Oh, you’ve been here before, Diana?” Brooke asks as the waiter moves on to Reagan.
Diana laughs, it’s smooth like honey. “I practically live here during ski season. The owner is an old family friend.”
So she’s the connection.
“Armin is a dear, dear man,” Diana goes on as she reaches for her white wine. “I know so many people in this business but I knew he’d give the studio the best deal. Whether I was involved, or not.”
“Yes, what happened to ‘or not?’” I can’t help but demand.
Diana tips her head at me and smiles slowly. “My schedule opened up suddenly.” Just as quickly as the smiles appears, it disappears. “And what happened to you? I heard you were never interested to coming back. Ever. Not that I blame you, after how the fans of the show quickly turned on you...”
The heels of my pumps dig into the floorboard as I cup my hands tightly together on my lap. “That was just a rumor. A stupid rumor spread by someone bored and looking for some media attention.”
Diana’s bottom lip contorts a little as she narrows her eyes.
The waiter steps up to me, and I just order the butternut squash soup. I then stand from my seat. “Bathrooms?”
The waiter points across the restaurant, towards the kitchen. “Just past the kitchen, down the tiny hallway.” I thank him and pretend not to notice as Oscar throws me a signal to “hurry up” with his hands. Behind me I can hear Diana whisper something to Reagan and I know it’s about me.
As I cross the restaurant a few women look my way, two of them give me a smile while the others just size me up. Either they know me from the show and like Diana said, hate me, or they think I’m tacky, the whole show is tacky and were taking up space in their fabulous ski resort.
I stay in the bathroom longer than intended. I don’t even have to use the toilet, I just know there has to be filming done between the other four girls while I’m gone off. After about ten minutes, I decide it’s safe for me to head back and I leave the bathroom. As I walk down the small hallway, I catch a female waiter struggling to open the door to the kitchen with an arm full of trays.
I grab the door for her; she thanks me and I take one of the trays from her hands, following her into the kitchen with it.
It’s so loud as several chefs in the middle of the room yell at each other standing over burners. They all have their backs to me, and the waiter I helped has come back to take the last tray from my hands. I’m about to leave when I notice, on the steel counter in front of me, is a bowl of butternut squash soup and a mango salad. With our table marker, table nineteen.
Not far from the mango salad, rested on top a revolving spice rack is a tiny container of chili sauce, lime juice and fish sauce.
I stop. Slowly I glance around the room, realizing nobody even knows I’m in here, as the waitress has disappeared and the chefs have their back to me.
Maybe I could…Just a tiny sprinkle would do.
I dash towards the spice rack and scoop up the chili sauce. I flick up the lid and the strong smell of spice fills my nose instantly, my eyes begin to water. I shake the bottom downward on top of the salad and watch the sauce sprinkle graciously on the meal.
I know this is wrong but I don’t even care.
Just as I shut the lid and slide the chili across the counter, a shadow comes over me and I look up. One of the chefs is frowning at me, “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
I plaster a smile over my face, “I was just checking on our order.”
“Five more minutes,” the Chef tells me briskly, he then turns back around and shouts something to one of the sous chefs down the stove line.
I hurry out, with a smirk.
As I take my place at the table, I notice all the girls are clicking away at their phones.
Did they even film anything?
Oscar steps up to the table. He puts a hand on Jill’s chair and a hand on Brooke’s. “The food will be coming out shortly. Diana is going to start off the dialogue and Jill will then address a past grievance with Diana. Reagan and Brooke will try to step in to diffuse the situation.”
The cameras begin to roll before I can lean over to ask Reagan what the past grievance is.
“How did everyone’s Christmas go?” Diana asks, she smiles softly as she looks over at Reagan.
“I went to Paris with my boyfriend,” Reagan smiles back. “It was my first time there.”
Diana reaches out and pats Reagan’s hand. “I’m so happy you had a great time!”
The smile and nod Reagan throws back at her irks me. Why are they so friendly?
“Paris is one of my favorite places,” Diana goes on. She removes her hand from Reagan’s and gives me a quick glance before picking up her wine. “I was there for a show during the summer. It was Adam’s first time there. He just adored it.”
I clear my throat and when Brooke gives me a quick glance I just smile at her. There’s an awkward silence that drifts over us. Diana breaks it. “We did everything. Ate croissants at these cute, romantic cafes. Went on the Eiffel Tower more than once. We even took a private boat ride on the canal. I think I finally broke the romantic out of Adam.” She giggles as she takes a drink of her wine.
I pick up my glass and take a long sip. I can see Declan and Oscar, staring at me from behind the cameras. Oscar is motioning for me to speak, while Declan throws his hands up in a “what are you doing?” motion.
I ignore them both.
Let them sweat.
“I went on a wonderful spiritual, yoga retreat,” I finally say as I look at my cast members. “It was just divine. And do you know who was the
re?” I fake an excited grin as I look over at Brooke and Jill.
“Who?” Brooke’s eyes sparkle as she matches my excitement.
“Oprah! I got to meditate with Oprah!”
This lie is so outrageous it might actually fly.
Brooke squeals and exhales loudly, “I love her! I subscribe to her magazine and I—”
“I summered with her once, in Venice,” Diana announces as she looks at me. “I showed Adam pictures once. He is determined to buy the same kind of yacht she has. He wants to name it after me,” she giggles, “such a softie, I’m telling you.”
She’s giving me another pass which I pretend not to hear. “What about you, Jill?”
Declan drops his head frustratingly before exchanging a shrugging glance with Oscar.
Ha ha.
“Oh-h,” Jill stutters a bit as she’s caught off guard. “I—We just did—”
“Adam and I had a huge Christmas party,” Diana declares as if she’s lifting her wine glass for a toast. “Such an exhausting guest list but Adam insisted, wanted to show off our gorgeous new condo. Right near the Hollywood sign.” She laughs and shakes her head as she takes a sip of her wine.
I see Declan stomp his foot silently and point at Diana as we lock eyes.
Oh, fine.
I reach for my wine. “Back when we were married, Adam was only ever interested in showing me off.” Next to me Jill fakes a choke of her water, and Brooke’s eyes widen a bit.
Diana clicks her tongue, “Excuse me?”
“Food’s here!” Reagan exclaims.
As the waiter appears, everyone seems to ease up. I watch the salad hit Diana’s plate and she makes a loud “Mmmmm” sound when she sees it.
“So, Diana, I heard an interesting story,” Jill’s eyes square on Diana’s face as the waiter sets down her meal. Diana says nothing as she sticks a fork in her salad. I can’t take my eyes off of her.
“I heard that you were at Saks getting your nails done with a mutual friend, Tilly. You told her that you know for a fact that our farms use non-approved FDA pesticides.”
Reuniting Reality Page 6