“Hold it like a pen with your index finger on the trigger.” I position the airbrush in Alex’s hand. “Remove the cap protecting the delicate needle. Let’s practice on this piece of scrap paper first.”
“Hey, I’m doing it … Oh no.” Alex’s brow wrinkles when the paint blooms on the paper and drips. He holds the airbrush out to me. “I’m messing this up.”
“It’s a double-action airbrush, so it takes a gentle touch.” I spray a light coating of the matte gold paint on a piece of scrap newspaper. “The farther you pull the trigger back with your index finger, the more paint comes out. So start light. You can always add more layers, but once it’s down, it’s down.”
I spray out a simple A outline on the newspaper and hand the airbrush back to Alex. Alex pulls the trigger too far and another huge bloom of gold paint forms. He lets out a frustrated sigh.
“That’s why we’re working on paper first.” I put my hand over Alex’s to steady it. “Try again. Light touch.”
It takes several more tries for Alex to find the exact amount of controlled pressure he needs for the job. After he fills in my A, Alex freehands a D and then looks at me. He raises his eyebrows, and I bump his hip lightly with mine.
“Cut!” Phil yells. “Okay, guys, this is a TV show, not a silent movie, which means I’m going to need some kind of talking here. Witty banter. Flirting. Something. The only thing we’re doing right now is curing people’s insomnia. Can we have some kind of spark for the folks watching at home?”
“No, we cannot, Phil,” I say.
“C’mon, son, this is a chem-test. I’m not asking you to quote Shakespeare.”
“Alex, honey, you’re doing great for your first time.” Stephanie gives Phil some serious side-eye. “Think of it as practice. One day, you’re going to be the MVP in a World Series game. Cameras are going to be in your face, expecting you to talk about how you led your team to victory. That’s what we’re preparing you for today. Channel that guy.”
The wrinkle in Alex’s forehead releases. He gives Stephanie a confident nod.
“Okay then, let’s practice.” Phil turns off my compressor and gestures for Jordan to zoom in for a close-up. “Both of you take off your masks and have a conversation. About anything. Your favorite TV show. What you had for lunch today. Your grandma’s famous apple pie. I don’t care. Anything. But show us a spark and wake Middle America up.”
Alex lowers his mask around his neck, looks at me with deer-in-the-headlights eyes, and says stiffly, “My abuela’s apple pie is meh, but her tres leches cake is the bomb.”
“And.” Phil rolls his hands at Alex to continue as Jordan steps even closer.
“Maybe you could try it sometime, Dakota.” Beads of sweat appear on Alex’s forehead.
I put my hand on Alex’s arm. I’ve been doing this literally since birth, so it feels like second nature to me. I forget that most people find a video camera in their face unnerving.
I tell a tiny white lie as I cap the airbrush needle. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It literally means three-milks cake. It’s kind of my family’s go-to dessert for birthdays and holidays, at least for the Mexican half of my family.”
“More,” Phil says. “Just keep talking about the cake.”
“It’s a … uh … sponge cake … but then you … uh … poke holes in it with your … uh … fork.” Alex clears his throat and puts the airbrush down. His voice is still unnatural but stronger when he says, “You top the cake with a mixture of sweetened condensed milk, evaporated milk, and whole milk until it seeps into the cake. Later, you decorate the top with whipped cream and fruit. I like strawberries the best.”
“That sounds awesome. And I love strawberries.”
Phil turns to Stephanie. “I got it! You know the footage we did of Tamlyn talking about strawberries from Glendale? Let’s do a short segment with Alex’s family. We’ll have Dakota make tres leches cake with the grandmother and Alex. Middle America would eat that up with a spoon. Then Dakota can post the authentic family recipe on her social media. Perfect. Think your family would be on board with that, son?”
Alex wheezes and shoots Stephanie a panicked look.
“Stephanie, you’re friends with Alex’s mom. Work your charm. Make this happen,” Phil says.
“It’s his dad’s side of the family,” Stephanie says gently. “We aren’t … close.”
“Oh, okay.” Phil turns back to Alex. “You could set that up for us, right?”
“I … uh … I don’t know,” Alex stammers. “I’m not sure Abuela would—”
“This isn’t rocket science, son,” Phil interrupts. He steps even closer to Alex. “All I’m asking you to do is make a cake on TV with your grandma and a pretty girl. In fact, we don’t even have to shoot at your house. You get Grandma here, and we’ll take care of all the details. Stephanie, what’s Grandma’s phone number? Let’s have a conference call with her. I know we can talk her into it.”
“Hey, I’m sorry.” Alex slips off his mask and safety glasses and leaves them on the workbench. “I don’t think this is going to work out.”
“Alex, honey,” Stephanie says as he brushes past her out the door.
“Wait!” I rip off my mask and safety glasses and rush after Alex.
I find Alex in my backyard near the picnic table.
“I’m sorry about all that back there.” I put a still-gloved hand on Alex’s back. “I’m used to Phil. He doesn’t get under my skin half as much as he used to.”
“I want to do this,” Alex says but doesn’t turn around. “One day, I want to play professional baseball. They expect you to be able to talk on camera. Sometimes with no warning whatsoever. And here I am, I can’t even talk to a cute girl while painting a friggin’ sign. For the record, I would rather roll around naked in a garden of cacti than bring you over to my dad’s house right now. Cake or no cake.”
I wince, hearing Leo in my head. I just need some breathing room. You suffocate me sometimes.
“Hey, I’m sorry. You know what? Let’s stop this. It’s not worth it. I’ll find somebody else to be my date.” I shudder thinking about spending another evening with Jake Yong. “Can we still be friends, though?”
Alex turns to face me. “Of course. Can we keep going out even after you find the perfect guy for the party?”
“Yes! And you better come to the party. Maybe Stephanie’s niece could be your date?”
“Would you save a dance for me?” Alex strips off his latex gloves and puts them on the picnic table.
I chuck my gloves on the table too before taking Alex’s hand in mine. “Yes. Though, warning, my dance skills suuuuck.”
“How about this to wake up Middle America? You’re slow dancing with your Ken-doll date looking like a princess, when suddenly a handsome Latino guy cuts in.” I let out a squeal when Alex suddenly pulls me into him. “He does a spicy but tasteful vals—because this is a family show and his abuela is watching—with America’s DIY Princess around the ballroom. And at the end, after hundreds of hearts are broken, Mystery Guy hands the princess a single red rose, kisses her passionately—but again tastefully, because Abuela needs to be able to show her face at church the next day—and slowly backs away without a word until he disappears into the crowd. People would be talking about that for weeks.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” The spark explodes in my brain. “This is exactly how we are going to save the night. Especially if I end up with a potato like Jake Yong as my date.”
“I could teach you part of the last quinceañera dance I learned, because I could do that dance in my sleep. How about that? Could you fake that you’d never done the dance before so my credibility of being a strong lead would go up?”
My heart is pounding, and we haven’t even started dancing. But it’s an expansive feeling, not a contracted one. This feels good.
“Yes.”
Alex turns me around but leaves his hands on my waist. “The first thing you need to know is this is
not a typical Downton Abbey kind of waltz. Yes, you have the one-two-three-one-two-three, but there is also a lot of arm work. Cross your arms low in front of you, right over left.” Alex’s hands leave my waist and tuck into each of my hands. We are so close to each other that our personal space bubbles practically squeak. “You doin’ okay? Because you need to loosen your hands up. A lot.”
I release the knuckle-crushing grasp I have on Alex. I force myself to deepen my breath. Alex must be able to sense when the good feeling outweighs the bad because he suddenly twirls me out to the side.
“And … come back in.” Alex gently tugs my hand until I roll back into him. And onto his foot.
I break away from him. “I am so sorry.”
“Hey, that’s what steel-toed boots are for.” Alex shrugs.
“Pretty sure they’re not.”
“I like the jeans and boots combo. It makes my job easier. That way I’m not terrified I’m going to slip on the hem of your thousand-dollar dress and bite it in front of all your tías and tíos, which is immortalized on film by the official quinceañera videographer that your abuela spent too much money on. Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything. Much.”
“Is it rude to say I’d like to see that video?”
“Yeah no, I’m not showing you that video.”
“Can I have a redo?” I take Alex’s hands in mine again. Gently this time. “I know I can get this.”
“I swing you out,” Alex talks me through the move. “I swing you back in. There you go. Much better. Now, let’s try it with a waltz beat. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three. You got it.”
We twirl to the other side. I also finally learn how to do a basket turn without getting tangled and conking your partner in the head. My seventh grade PE teacher would be so proud.
“Now, we’re going to do the Downton Abbey-ish part.” As Alex turns me to face him, I can see Phil and Stephanie standing in the doorway of the workshop, but I keep that to myself. “One hand here. The other out to the side. As I step forward, you’re going to step back.”
It’s a good thing we have boots on, because I am all over Alex’s feet. But we get it. Sorta. As we set up to try again, I notice Jordan the Camera Op standing next to Phil, probably with the camera zoomed in on us.
“We’re not using this footage, Phil,” I yell his way after my turn goes rogue, and Alex has to grab me to keep me from doing a header into the fake grass.
“C’mon, you guys are adorable,” Phil yells back. “Fans would eat this stuff up.”
Alex looks like he’s eaten bad potato salad. I shake his hand to make him focus on me again.
“You got this,” I say.
“So do you. Want to try what you know so far with the quinceañera music?” When I nod, Alex slides his phone out of his back pocket and pulls up the song. He sets his phone on the picnic table. “The first thirty seconds are the intro to get us on the dance floor and into our starting positions.”
Alex holds my hand, and we promenade to the middle of the fake grass in my backyard. Phil is filming us, but I block him out. Alex and I take the opening position. Alex’s middle finger taps the downbeat on my hand until the music swells, and we step off.
Is it perfect? Nope. Is it better? Definitely. We have a couple of wobbles and stumbles, especially when Phil sends Jordan closer and closer, like he’s a lioness stalking two gazelles at the watering hole.
“Gonna get an elbow to the nose if you keep standing there, Jordan.” I give him fair warning before we start over.
We do several more tries and even add a little more choreography.
“You pick things up quickly.” Alex turns his back on the camera.
“My brain right now…” I mime my head exploding.
“Maybe we should call it a day.”
As we walk toward the back door, Stephanie jogs up next to us. “Hey, lookin’ good.”
“I wish that were true,” Alex says.
“C’mon, I only stomped on your instep once this last time.” I bump Alex’s hip though I know he was referring to himself.
“Are we done for today, Phil?” Stephanie yells across the yard.
Phil raises his hand in affirmation. Stephanie herds us inside. Alex sits down at the kitchen table to take off his boots. I sit next to him and do the same.
“I should get going.” Alex glances at the kitchen wall clock. “We’re watching my cousins tonight while my aunt has class.”
“A fun evening of Minecraft ahead of you then?”
“Yes, and probably fraction flashcards, and if I’m super lucky, books about cats with hats who sit on mats with rats.”
“Sucks to be you.”
“I complain, but honestly, it’s not that bad. Everybody enjoys having their own fan club. Even if it is a fan club of two.”
I put my hand on his knee and squeeze it. “Three.”
Alex puts his hand over mine and squeezes it. “You gained a new fan club member today too. Though I am probably number one million.”
“One million and seventeen,” I joke, though if you count my Instagram followers, that number is probably pretty close.
“Would it be okay if I filmed you guys for Tamlyn and Doug? Here in the kitchen. Just the three of us.”
“Are we going to live dangerously and dance without boots this time?” Part of me is totally serious.
“I think we’ll be okay.” Alex takes his phone back out of his pocket and pulls up the song.
Stephanie’s smile gets bigger and bigger as our simple dance travels around the kitchen.
“Whoa.” I put my hand on the kitchen counter to keep from colliding with it when Alex turns me out too far.
“Sorry,” Alex says.
When he twirls me back toward him, my socked feet slip on the wooden floor until I slide up against him. Like, smack up against him. Like, so plastered against him that I can feel Alex’s muscles through his shirt. This feels good. Safe. I don’t move even though the song and our choreography continues without us. An undignified squeal escapes my lips when Alex suddenly dips me backward and lets me hang in a dramatic arch.
“Not sorry.” Alex kisses my cheek.
My bottom foot slips from underneath me. Which wouldn’t be the end of the world if I hadn’t unintentionally done a leg-sweep on Alex at the same time. We end up in a pile in the middle of the kitchen floor.
Stephanie shakes her head as Alex and I crack up. “I’ll meet you outside the front door in a minute, Alex. I have to get some clothes for your mom out of my car.”
“Thank you, Ms. Stephanie.” Alex sits up cross-legged on the floor. “For everything.”
“My pleasure.”
Alex rolls to his feet as Stephanie heads down the hallway. He offers me his hand and pulls me to a stand. I don’t let go of his hand until we get to the front door.
“I’ll keep working on my on-camera skills with Ms. Stephanie. Maybe I can reaudition in a week or two?” Alex dips down to tie his tennis shoes. “I want to do this event with you.”
“And I’ll keep working on my dance skills. I want to do this event with you too.”
“So, goodbye?” Alex rocks back and forth on his heels. “If you wanted to kiss me goodbye, I’d be cool with it.”
I loop my arms around Alex’s neck and invade his bubble. As I lean in, Alex closes his eyes. And this time when our lips meet, it is a full give-and-take between the two of us. Alex pulls me even closer to him, stepping backward until he is sandwiched between me and my front door. So maybe there is a little bit of “octopus arms” going on. I promise not to bust on Leo about this anymore. Why am I thinking about Leo at a time like this?
Just as my concentration returns to the boy at hand—literally under my hands—the door suddenly opens, cracking Alex in the head. I stumble away from him as he rubs the back of his head.
“Are you okay?” Stephanie says with a bag of clothes against her chest. “You know what? Don’t answer that. Please give these to Sher
ri.”
Alex takes the bag from Stephanie with a nod. “Are you free Saturday, Dakota? Maybe we could try the Great Pizza Picnic Plan a second time? I promise to leave my phone at home.”
Stephanie gives me a subtle nod to answer my unasked question. “Yeah, I’m free. Let’s give it another try.”
I stand on my front porch in my socks as Alex walks to his car. He gives me one last smile before driving away. My heart melts a bit. When I float back through the front door, I finally feel like I’m walking into something new—a new, rebuilt version of me. I can’t wait to start this new chapter of my life.
Chapter
19
“We’re going to have a redo on our last date,” I babble at lunch the next day, after showing everybody Alex’s and my dance video. Both Phil’s version before I made him delete it and then the blooper one Stephanie took in the kitchen, including the fall onto the floor.
“Do we ever get to meet Prince Charming?” Nevaeh swipes one of the Oreos from my lunch.
“Already met him.” Leo swipes an Oreo too, with the arm that doesn’t currently have Lindsay attached to it. “He seems nice.”
“Nice?” Nevaeh scoffs. “My poodle is nice. Going to need some better adjectives, Cinnamon Roll Prince. Or should I call you Sin-amon Roll Prince now that you have detention today?”
“Ha ha.” Leo looks up at the cafeteria’s ceiling for inspiration. “According to Aurora, Alex is ‘Kakkoii ne!’—only said much louder and at a dog-whistle pitch.”
“But what do you think?” Nevaeh presses.
“He’s polite to servers and makes Koty laugh. If she’s happy, then I’m happy.” Leo shrugs. “If you want to come back to the restaurant on Saturday, Koty, I will pay more attention this time and give a detailed review on Monday.”
“Thanks, but I’m ready to fly solo now,” I say.
The bell rings and everybody groans. Leo and I have US History class together right after lunch. For the first time since he and Lindsay officially became a couple, Leo’s right behind me.
Faking Reality Page 17