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“You should have called me.”
“And interrupt your big night of meeting the parents? No way.”
Darcy sighed. “Listen. I have a crazy plan.”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s not very nice,” Darcy said. “But I don’t think this guy has been very nice to you, either.”
“Out with it, Darcy,” Rachelle said.
“You just have to fake your romance with Eddie a little while longer,” Darcy said. “Can you do that?”
“How much longer?”
Darcy launched into her plan—one that was far more maniacal than anything Rachelle had thought her capable of. For a little while that morning, Rachelle stewed over it, sizing it up. Did she really have it in her to pull such an elaborate prank?
But midway through the lunch rush, Rachelle had her answer. Eddie burst into the kitchen, followed by the camera crew, and explained to Rachelle that he wanted to impress one of his tables with an elaborate dessert. It was the grandfather of the family’s eightieth birthday, and they were locals who frequently came to The Clam Factory. As he spoke, he touched Rachelle’s shoulder delicately and spoke to her flirtatiously, getting far too close to her face.
Who did he think he was? Rachelle thought to herself. Why did he think he could manipulate her and all the viewers at home?
“That’s a fantastic idea, Eddie,” Rachelle breathed, echoing his flirtation.
Eddie’s eyes lit up. He loved the attention.
And Rachelle felt the plan coming into place.
That evening, after the cameras were off, Rachelle joined Paul, Benny, and some of the servers at the bar for a glass of wine. Eddie was on the opposite side of the bar, chatting to Henry animatedly. It was clear he was trying to earn a place in Hollywood. Rachelle played hard to get but sometimes made eye contact with Eddie before returning her attention to Benny. Very soon, Eddie jumped around to her side of the bar and slid onto the stool beside her.
“Hey, Rach,” he said, raising his beer and smiling. “I wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday. Man, I had no idea they were after us like that.”
Liar, Rachelle thought.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You can’t help it that the camera loves you.”
“It loves you, too,” Eddie said.
Rachelle smiled and tilted her body toward his. Unfortunately, he smelled wonderful, like patchouli and sandalwood and the sea. She reminded her brain it was over. There was no romance here.
“Listen,” Rachelle said, “I wanted to tell you something.” She made her tone extra conspiratorial.
Eddie frowned.
“We’re getting up there in years, you know?” Rachelle said. “I’m in my mid-twenties, and you’re…”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Right,” Rachelle said. “I was talking to Diana about her career, and she said she started doing as much as she could to her face early on to prevent aging. Botox. Fillers. Everything.”
Eddie was looking at Rachelle as though she were imparting state secrets.
“There’s a possibility that I’ll move on to another show after this,” Rachelle said. “That I’ll become a ‘celebrity chef’ like Diana. And I would love it. But I have to start paying attention.”
Eddie was captivated. “What are you going to do?”
Rachelle lowered her voice. “My sister works at a beauty clinic downtown. She was telling me about hyaluronic acid fillers. They’re amazing for anti-aging. I think I’m going to go for it.”
“Rachelle, this is amazing,” Eddie whispered, his eyes darting left and right. “I’ve started to feel so self-conscious about my face on-screen. I want to look like someone at the beginning of my career. I want to go out to Hollywood and, you know, audition for juicy roles. If you look too old, you’re already left behind.”
