Reality Check (8 page)

“Are you girls ready to celebrate?” Addison asks, and looks at her watch. “It's later than we planned, so we should head to dinner. Susan said the restaurant is holding a reservation for us. I thought I'd join you, if you don't mind, so we can talk more.”

Brooke grabs her arm. “Quick Q right now,” she says. “What was with all the backstabbing questions? I felt like Bruce was trying to get me to bad-mouth the girls.”

Addison groans and clutches her head. Her funky silver bangle hits her in the face. “Sorry about that. I told them to feel you girls out about everything, but I didn't mean for them to make you uncomfortable. I was just trying to get a sense of your group dynamic.”

I relax a little. “I felt like they wanted me to say I hate Brooke!”

Addison laughs. “I'm sorry. The show will
not
be like that. When I first started here, I spent a week on this Fire and Ice dating show.” She looks around to make sure no one is listening. “That show was all about the controversy. You know when you're watching a reality show and they cut to a person alone in a room doing an interview?” We all nod. “Well, a lot of times the way they get a person to talk trash about someone else on the show is to set a trap. They tell one person what another person said to get them fired up.”

“No way,” Hallie says, flabbergasted. “I always assumed the people doing the bashing were the jerks.”

Addison shakes her head. “Not always. If you push someone hard enough on camera, anyone can sound or look like a jerk. They do it to get better sound bites.” Addison smiles. “But enough of that talk. Let's eat.”

“Sounds great,” says Hallie, and then when Addison walks ahead of us, she whispers to me, “I really like her.”

“Me too,” I admit. “At first I was worried she was too young, but she seems so cool and together.”

We walk through Times Square to an Italian joint called Gagliano's. The streets are crowded and we huddle together, hands linked, trying to avoid being separated by a street performer and a group of girls hovering outside MTV. I watch the people walk by, most of them barely looking at us, and I can't help but wonder if that will change after our show airs. Will people want our autographs? Will our pictures be in the tabloids? Will we get invited to cool parties in the Hamptons this summer? The streets around us are so loud between the taxis honking and the chatter of tourists and bus companies trying to get people on board, that I imagine if I screamed happily, no one would even hear me.

We reach the restaurant and a hostess seats us at a large table in the back. Gagliano's is a crowded place with dim lighting, loud Italian music, and typical Italian restaurant scenery—the pictures of Italy, Frank Sinatra songs, and smell of roasted garlic. I eye the food at the next table. The plates are family style with huge, overflowing bowls of pasta and chicken cutlets the size of my fist. Once we're settled and our parents are looking over menus, Addison nudges me. “I promise next time you're in the city, we'll take you someplace less touristy and more fabulous.”

“This place is cool,” I tell her.

“Yeah,” Addison says, “but you girls are TV stars now—we have to take you to the Soho Grand or the Library. You're going to be the toast of the town before you know it.”

“What if our show tanks?” I want to know. I want to shred the napkin on my lap, I'm that afraid of her answer.

Addison shakes her head. “It will never happen. We know how to make a show a success and with you guys we won't even have to try that hard. The viewers are going to love you.”

“Hell yeah!” Brooke seconds and raises her diet Coke.

A waitress appears with a tray of champagne flutes, filled high with bubbly. I glance at my mom as the waitress places glasses in front of each of us.

“I guess this is a special occasion,” my mom says to Hallie's mom, who nods. She lifts her glass and I do the same.

“A toast,” Addison announces, “to the future cast of
The Cliffs
. With Charlie and these three bright, funny, smart young ladies as stars, we're sure to have a massive hit on our hands.”

The four of us clink glasses and smile. “To us,” Brooke says.

“To us,” I second, looking at my friends. And then I take a large gulp of fizz.

five

Lights, Camera, Action!

 

“Okay, girls, just act natural,” Addison tells us with a big smile. “Forget about the cameras. Just pretend we're not here.”

Everyone keeps saying that, but it sounds impossible. How am I supposed to pretend that there are not
three
cameras surrounding our table right now, all of them within feet of us, aimed directly at our table.

We're sitting at the Crab Shack, Hallie's parents’ restaurant/boat dock, for our first-ever taping of
The Cliffs
, and at the moment, I'm so nervous I want to dive off the dock, swim to nearby Shelter Island, and live there permanently. I have my cell phone and my toothbrush in my bag. What more do I need to survive?

“Should we look at the camera?” Keiran asks Addison nervously, and bites another strand of her blond hair. We were told to dress naturally, but I know Keiran's bright green twinset is a date ensemble for sure. Not that the rest of us obeyed either. Brooke is wearing a new waffle-print white sweater, Hallie is in her favorite red tank and black miniskirt, and I'm wearing a new navy-and-white-striped nautical top.

“No looking at the lens.” Addison shakes her head, and the pencil behind her right ear falls onto the dock. She leans down to pick it up, rests it on her clipboard, and fixes her Bluetooth again. It's been glued to her ear the whole time we've been here and she's had several calls, which she's disappeared to answer. This is the first time I've gotten to see Addison at work, and I have to say she seems to be really on top of things. The crew hangs on her every word, and she's been pretty efficient about our time, knowing we can't tape all day.

Unlike the rest of us, who agonized over our outfits for days, Addison is not worried about her work wardrobe. She's wearing a long-sleeved blue shirt, jeans, and sneakers. She doesn't have on anywhere near as much makeup as the makeup artist (yay!) put on us. “I know this first taping is overwhelming for you girls, but I promise, it will get easier,” Addison assures us. “Just think of us as the fourth wall to a room. We're not here. Don't look in this direction unless there is something over here other than us that you need to see. In a few days you won't even realize we're around. You're going to become pros fast. You'll see.”

Taping started faster than we could have imagined. Addison actually called the day after the signing to see if we would mind getting a day or two in
that week
. I almost fell off my chair I was so surprised, but I guess jumping in headfirst is a good thing. Ididn't think we had anything exciting on our calendars, but Addison thought everything I mentioned sounded “super” or “perf.” She stressed that Susan wanted us to be as natural as possible so whatever we normally do together should be fine. We decided our first taping should be at the Crab Shack. Hallie's parents were more than happy to let us shoot. The crew got here early to set up and passed out waivers to everyone (they have to make sure people sign one if they're going to be on camera). By the time we arrived, everyone was ready for us.

“Promise you guys won't mention where I live, okay?” Brooke whispers to me while Addison is still on her call.

“Brooke, we swear, but you know they're going to find out eventually,” I tell her gingerly. “It's nothing to be ashamed of.”

Brooke's house is a stately old colonial, and the barn on her property is fully functional and has a bunch of horses that we all take riding. She has a bigger room than any of us, which seems to be redecorated in Pottery Barn outlet stuff every two years. What's not to like about Brooke's home sweet home?

“Charlotte,” she says stiffly, sounding like my mother. “I'm
not a farm girl and I don't want certain people to think I am one.”

I know who she's talking about again. Brooke's never gotten over Marleyna Garrison's ribbing in ballet class about how Brooke smelled of horse manure.

“Okay,” I assure her. “Just relax.” I have to admit, I'm alternating between nausea and fits of giddiness myself. We are about to start taping a TV show about us.

“You're right,” Brooke says and breathes a little easier. “This is our starring moment. What am I worrying about?”

“So, Addison, how do we start?” Hallie asks. “Should we tell a funny story? Or talk about boys?”

“Or gripe about homework? Family?” Keiran asks. “Should we avoid sounding negative? I don't want to come off as cranky.”

Addison laughs. “Just do what you'd normally do. Chat. Talk about school, especially since we can't tape you guys there.”

The four of us nod. Talk about school. Talk about school.
What
about school? Do I mention my possible date with Zac? No, no, that wouldn't be good because then it would be on tape. I'd be talking about Zac to the world and I have no clue if he'll be around long enough to hear it on TV. Okay, school. Classes? That's boring. Homework? Nah. How much I hate Mr. Sparks? That would just get me an F in social studies. School…

“Ready?” Addison fixes her headset and looks at us hopefully. “We'll go slow and we can always stop when you want.”

The girls and I look at each other. Brooke puts her hand in the middle of the table and we all give it a squeeze. “Let's get this party started!”

We've already ordered our usual: mozzarella sticks, clam strips, and a round of Cokes. The order covers the checkered tablecloth. The furnishings at the Crab Shack are pretty cheap—white plastic chairs and rickety patio tables with tacky tablecloths. A large canopy hangs over the fifteen or so tables, giving us some relief from the sun. Food is ordered at the shack window and then your number is called over a staticky intercom so you can pick it up. Definitely not fine dining, but the place is always packed. Not many restaurants around can beat the spectacular scenery. The dock is right on the water and overlooks Shelter Island, a quiet residential town a short ferry ride away. Sailboats and small yachts slip by or dock right here, some with local license plates, others from as far away as Florida.

“Girls, I've got the perfect opener for us.” Hallie's eyes light up. “I figured we could start out talking about the spring fling. At least that sounds exciting, right?” Hallie fingers her green v-neck sweater that brings out her eyes. It's her favorite shirt and she's wearing it with a denim skirt, tights, and her brown knee-high boots that we covet.

We all nod. “What do you think, guys?” I ask the crew, but their faces are blank. Fourth wall. Fourth wall. I have to remember that. They're not going to answer us.

“Perfect!” Addison says enthusiastically. “Let's try it on for size.” She turns to the crew, who jumps into action, yells out a few commands, and then someone says “Rolling,” faster than I can even take a sip of my Coke to wet my lips.

“Can you guys believe the spring fling is next month?” Hallie asks, trying to sound natural even though I know her voice is an octave higher than it should be.

“Um, yeah, that's pretty close,” Keiran seconds, her eyes moving toward the cameras and back again. I notice she's shredding the napkin in front of her.

“Has anyone started thinking about dates?” Brooke asks, a mischievous smile on her face. “It's never too early to start.” She turns to me. “I know Charlie has her eye on someone.”

My face burns—and it's not that hot out. Thanks, Brooke! She knows how uncomfortable talking about Zac makes me. “Maybe,” I say cryptically. “Don't you?”

“I always keep my options open.” Brooke winks.

“What are you thinking of wearing?” Hallie asks. “It's never too early to think of a dress.”

“Oooh! I saw something in
Seventeen
that was sweet,” Keiran gushes and then she's off and running describing it. This somehow turns into a conversation about the lack of great places to shop out here on NOFO. And then before I know it, I'm weighing in on where to find cute clothes, and Brooke is boasting about her amazing sales collection, and Addison is calling cut.

“Girls, that was amazing!” Addison says and sounds like she means it. “You guys totally forgot the camera was there.”

“We did, didn't we?” I say to the others excitedly, my confidence growing. “That was fun.”

“And surprisingly easy,” Brooke admits, and stares at her raspberry nails.

“A total rush,” Hallie agrees.

“Take a breather, get a drink, and we'll start up again in a few minutes,” Addison says as she walks away to take yet another call.

“Brooke, I loved that line you gave about Tanger being the new Target—everyone who is anyone goes there,” says Hallie as she checks her makeup in her compact mirror. Tanger is the outlet mall where we shop.

Brooke grins. “That was good, wasn't it? And Kiki, you were so cute describing that dress.”

“Do you think we were trying too hard?” Hallie asks with a frown. “I had to work it to be that witty.”

“Nah,” I dismiss her. “It's good for us to be funny on camera. They'll like us more, won't they? It's not like we were lying.” I did notice our conversation was hipper than normal, but who cares? It was still us. I'm sure it will tone down the more comfortable we get.

The four of us are so busy rehashing our lines, we barely hear Keiran's phone ringing. “It's my mom,” she says, and frowns. “Hello? What?” She freaks out, making me jump. “Now? I can't. I'm
working
. Remember,
working
? But, Mom? Mom? FINE.” She runs her fingers through her blond hair and looks at us worriedly. “I have to go. My mom needs me to watch my brother while she runs to a parent-teacher conference.”

“Kiki, you can't go now!” Brooke complains. “We're in the middle of taping.”

“I have no choice,” Keiran says, coming down off her high. She throws tip money down on the table and grabs her green Gap backpack that has butterflies embroidered on the front. “I'm sorry,” she says, looking at Addison.

“It's okay,” Addison tells her and motions to some of the guys. “We'll send a small crew with you on your babysitting gig and the rest of us will hang here. Keiran, tell your mom we're coming and we just need a few minutes to set
up, okay?”

“Really? You don't mind?” Keiran asks, her shoulders relaxing.

“Of course not,” Addison says. “We knew your babysitting skills were very much in demand. We love shooting this sort of stuff.”

“It looks great already,” says Hank. “The way the sun hits Charlie's hair is perfect.”

“Perfect,” seconds Phil. “She looks like an angel.”

“Me? An angel?” I joke. “That's a new one.”

“The rest of you look great too,” Addison adds and I hear her phone ring. Again. Her face darkens. “I have to take this. Excuse me.”

I lean back in my chair as Keiran gets whisked home with a small camera crew of three people. “This is pretty cool,” I say to the others. “I thought it might be a little weird taping our conversations, but I don't mind it.”

“Me either. But I hope we all get to shoot some individual scenes, don't you?” Brooke asks, and fluffs her red hair, which she deep-conditioned last night, so it is super shiny.

“I'm sure we will,” says Hallie and nudges me.

“Hal! Hal! Someone here for you,” a voice crackles over the intercom. We turn toward the Crab Shack window and see a cute guy wearing shorts (in April no less) and a hoodie, with curly blond hair, waving at Hallie.

“Whoa, who is he?” I have to ask.

Hallie's whole face flushes. “Patrick Waters. He goes to Greenport. He works here at the restaurant and—guys, do I look okay?”

“You look great,” Brooke tells her. “I dressed you so I should know. Go talk to him.” Hallie stands up but hesitates. “Why do you look so nervous? You never have trouble talking to guys, Hallie.”

“This one is different,” Hallie says shyly.

Addison appears again. “Oooh… who's that?” she asks Hallie.

“Hallie's crush,” Brooke teases.

“Do you think he'd appear on camera?” Addison asks wistfully. “If so we just need to ask him to sign a release.”

“Let me run and ask him,” says Hallie. Hallie talks animatedly for a few minutes and then we watch as Phil hurries over with a camera while Patrick signs the form. Hallie backs up and they tape her walking over as if it's for the first time.

Brooke sighs dreamily. “She's getting good airtime.” I hit her. “I know, we're all going to get it. I just wish mine was now. I really like being in front of the camera.”

“You?” I tease. “Never.” She swats me back.

“All this talking is making me thirsty,” Brooke says, holding up her empty Coke.

“Me too,” I realize. “I'll get us refills.” I grab our cups and head to the counter. Hallie's mom is always telling me to just walk into the kitchen, but I feel funny doing that when there are paying customers around. Instead, I wait in line, making sure to stay out of the way of the cameras taping Hallie. I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around quickly, almost knocking the cups of ice into the person's chest.

“Whoa. I wanted a drink to cool down, but not that cool.” It's Zac, and we're standing so close, with the cups between our chests, that I can smell his minty mouthwash. His curly hair is damp and he's wearing a plain navy long-sleeved shirt and khakis. But it's his eyes, those awesome blue eyes that seem to pick up every speck of light in this place and reflect my image back at me, that make me want to drool.

“Hey.” I try to sound calm and natural even though I'm anything but.