Sweet (7 page)

“Sounds good, but watch the steak,” he tells me. “When they serve you a giant slab of meat like that, it's easy to eat more than you need.”

“Got it,” I say.

“So, tell me about the set. I can't believe it! How did it go?”

“Terrible. I was sweating so much I slipped when I tried to flip onto my feet.”

“Did you hurt anything?”

“I hurt my hand. Nothing major. But I sort of crushed this girl.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I could've really hurt her. I should never have tried it.”

“Tell me about the girl.”

“Oh … you know. Strawberry blond. Pretty. Curvy. Freckles. Really pretty, actually, but she might be a hippie.”

“Huh.”

“Don't,” I tell him.

“Sounds special.”

“You're the one who told me to lay off the girls,” I remind him.

“Oh no. I told you to lay off the starlets. Big difference.”

“Then you're not going to like hearing about Sabbi Ribiero.”

“
Teens of New York
Sabbi Ribiero?” he asks.

“They've set us up for a thing.”

“Tamara talk you into it?” Derek asks.

There's not a lot of love between Derek and Tamara. He thinks she's too mean and she doesn't like how much “influence” he has over me.

“You ready for something like that? Sabbi Ribiero is a force.”

“Tell me about it!” I laugh. “I don't know. Not really.”

There's only one person I feel comfortable talking to about this kind of stuff and Derek's it.

“Well, you can say no. Tamara is supposed to be working for you. She doesn't own you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's good publicity.”

“Ahh, my ambitious friend. Yes. But that shit can take a toll on your heart, man.”

This is sort of a theme between Derek and me. He tries to remind me about feelings and stuff. It's because when we first met back when I was twelve, I was still “eating my pain,” as he called it.

He came by my dressing room early to pick me up to train and found me sitting on the couch, eating my lunch off the coffee table.

Eight hot dogs, a bag of Doritos, and a two-liter bottle of Pipop.

“What's this?” he said.

“What? It's my lunch,” I said.

He watched me inhaling dogs for about a minute and stood up to leave.

“I can't do it,” he said. “Sorry, little man. Catch you later.”

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“Out of here.”

“WAIT!” I cried. “Wait, what's wrong?”

He came back in and shut the door. Threw his duffel bag on the floor.

He stood there looking at me for a minute. I think I had a half-eaten bite of hot dog hanging out of my mouth.

He knelt down in front of me.

“You got dealt a shitty hand, Tom. All this pressure—all this fame—it's too much for you and you're stuffing your face to avoid the pain. You're eating your pain, and it's going to take you down.”

“But I'm hungry,” I said.

“Of course you are. You're a growing boy and you're not getting
any
nutrition. There's nothing you need in this crap. It makes you fat and, worse than that, it makes you
feel
fat. Know what I mean?”

I did. I felt lethargic and sad and useless, despite the antidepressants my doctor had put me on.

“You need protein and greens, son.”

“Okay,” I snuffled. I may have been crying.

“And you need to get some friends.”

I nodded. Then I asked him to be my friend.

And he said yes.

“Well,” Derek says. “I like the sound of Freckles, if you ask me.”

“I'll figure it out,” I say.

“You always do. Talk to you tomorrow,” he says. “Lay off the steak.”

I think about the girl, after I hang up with Derek.

I rub my hand. The meat between the thumb and pointer finger hurts. Real tender. I should probably ice it.

I left the club after the incident with the girl. Sabbi was probably pissed, but we have six days to play it up for the cameras.

I needed to get some sleep. I'm working the cruise.

The strawberry blonde.

I should find out her name.

That's probably a good place to start.

 

LAUREL

DAY TWO

“GOOD MORNING AND WELCOME
to the second day aboard the Solu Cruise to Lose! I don't know about you, but my waistband is already feeling a bit more comfy!”

I turned on the TV, and the cruise director, Lorna Krieger, is on the screen.

“Make her stop!” Viv moans from the bed.

“Today we will be docking at artsy, quirky, and beautiful Key West. Whether you're headed ashore for beach time, shopping on historic Duval Street, or jetting off for an excursion, you're sure to have a fabulous time. Maybe we'll catch sight of Luka Harris out surfing the waves at Lux Beach, the private beach owned by the operator of the
Extravagance
, Lux Cruise Lines! But please remember, do not take any Solu off the ship. Right now, Lux Lines has the exclusive right to offer you Solu, and we don't want to share!” She winks.

Viv throws her pillow at the screen.

I shut the TV off.

“Ugh,” she says when I open our window shades. “How can she be so chirpy? What time is it?”

“Nine. She's chirpy because she didn't stay out all night partying.”

“How you feeling?” Viv asks.

“Meh,” I say.

I had hoped my seasickness was gone, but as soon as I set my feet on the floor, the lining of my stomach came up to say howdy to the bottom of my throat.

“I gotta get off this ship,” I say.

“Nice,” Viv says. “My dad would love to hear that.”

“Because of the seasickness,” I answer.

“You,” Viv says, rolling onto her side and watching me get dressed, “are basically famous. Everyone kept asking me who you were and how do you know Baby Tom-Tom and was the whole thing planned. I need coffee.”

“Settle for a Diet Pip?” I ask.

“Okay.”

I hand her one. I see that whoever turned the bed down last night also refilled our mini-fridge.

I make a mental note to take a couple ginger ales when I go ashore. We might have to pay for stuff on the island and I'd better save my fifty.

Viv cracks the top on the soda, as I put on my navy one-piece and pull on my jeans shorts. Over this I wear a faded white jeans shirt.

“Are you really not going to tell me about it?” she finally says.

I shrug.

“You didn't like it?”

I sit on the floor to pull on a pair of hot-pink knee-high socks. There's a hole in one toe, of course.

“LAUREL! What was the kiss like?”

I sigh and lie back on the fluffy-soft carpet.

“It was amazing,” I say.

Viv echoes my sigh.

“It looked amazing. So romantic.”

We both sigh together. (Oh, brother.)

“No. Actually. That's the problem.” I sit up. “There was nothing romantic about it! He didn't actually even
want
to kiss me. It was Mustache Rich, the publicity genius of the universe.”

“What are you talking about?”

“After Tom crashed into me, Rich said, ‘Kiss her!' It was just to distract everyone from the fact that Tom fell during his big show-off dance.”

“That dance was awesome!” Viv objects.

“Viv, he kissed me to cover up for his goof. That's all. There's nothing between us.”

“It didn't look like that,” she says.

I pull on my cowboy boots. I feel like I need a sharp toe today.

“Really? Cowboy boots? We're in Key West. Have you never met a flip-flop?” she complains.

“I'm going to go to the buffet to get some fruit. Do you want anything?”

“Yeah—whatever they have with Solu. I swear, Laur, I'm losing weight already.”

“You're beautiful already. You're perfect the way you are.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I didn't see any former child stars tackling
me
on the dance floor,” she says, shooing me off.

“By accident,” I add.

“By accident, by choice. You're lucky and you don't even care,” she says.

“I'm so lucky I'm going to spend the rest of the cruise avoiding him.”

Viv throws her second pillow at my head.

*   *   *

I read in the leather guidebook in our room that there's a buffet breakfast available on the pool deck each morning.

I'm alone, standing at the head of the buffet, and trying to decide if my stomach will allow me anything more substantial than honeydew melon, when I hear an argument coming from behind a swinging metal door. It must lead into some kind of small kitchen.

“You should put him ashore,” a female voice says.

“Please! I did nothing! I did nothing!” a man pleads. “I'm just crabby in the morning. I just needed some coffee!”

“You threatened me with a knife!” the lady snipes.

I don't mean to eavesdrop, but a knife?!

The door has that one little window that waiters see through when coming and going, but I can't see anyone. I hear three voices, though.

“It was just in my hand! This was just a little kitchen tiff. It was nothing! I just need a cup of coffee to settle my nerves.”

A waiter asks if I need anything. I shake my head and smile.

He goes in the service door and I get a glimpse of a skinny, scruffy man clutching a crumpled chef's hat and a plump, self-satisfied-looking female chef. They're both pleading with a ship's officer with his back to me.

The door swings shut again.

“Francois, when's the last time you ate?” the officer asks the male chef.

“I'm tasting food all day long.”

“He's tasting the
desserts
all day long,” the female chef says snarkily. “The ones with Solu. He tells the rest of us not to eat them, because Solu's too expensive. But then he eats them when we're not looking.”

“This one,” growls the man, “she wants to be the head pastry chef. That's what
she's
after!”

I take a bowl and pick out some strawberries, blueberries, and melon. I'm loitering. (I hope not
too
obviously.)

“The two of you, get yourselves together!” The officer raises his voice. The bickering chefs fall silent, abashed.

A couple of silver-haired passengers grab plates from next to me and start to take food.

I prod at some pineapple with the pincers, stalling.

“Solu is not for the staff!” the chef states.

“But lots of staff are having it!” Francois whines.

“Then you get them to stop!” the officer orders. “Francois, take the day off. Stay in your room. Rest. Don't have any Solu, for God's sake. Eat three square meals. I'm sure you'll be better tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir, but can I—” Francois begs.

“Can you what?”

“Can I just get some coffee please? Just one packet of Solu? Please?!”

“Good morning, miss!” comes a cheerful voice.

I turn.

It's Jaideep.

“May I bring you something from the kitchen?” he asks.

I shake my head, but I can feel a blush creeping up my neck. That blush always gives me away.

One of the kitchen doors swings open and the officer looks out. He catches my eye. I can see him wonder how long I've been standing there.

Jaideep sees the officer and sort of straightens up.

“No, no,” I say. “I actually—do you have any toast?”

“Of course, madam,” Jaideep says, using a more formal tone. “Would you prefer white, whole wheat, sourdough, or rye?”

“Oh. Sourdough,” I say.

“If you would like to have a seat, it will be my pleasure to bring it to you.”

“Thank you,” I say.

He gives me a wink.

I proceed down the buffet line and see at the end a special table with a lavender tablecloth—lavender's the official color of Solu, I guess. It's the color on the packets.

On the table is a tray with mini-muffins. A little sign says,
SWEETENED WITH SOLU!

I take two for Viv.

They look really yummy. I pick one up and smell it. Cinnamon and nutmeg.

My mouth starts watering.

I guess I
am
ready to eat again.

But before I pop it into my mouth, I stop.

I don't know …

What do we know about this stuff, anyway?

I think I'll wait for my toast.

 

TOM

DAY TWO

THE
EXTRAVAGANCE
HAS ITS OWN BEACH.

That's where we head to tape, after a brief waste of time on Key West's famous Duval Street.

The street was crowded with tourists from other ships who kept photo-bombing the hell out of me.

“Baby Tom-Tom!”

One after another.

I nearly strangled some fraternity wipe wearing a backward baseball cap who kept sneaking into the shot and pretending to jerk off.

*   *   *

This is more like it.

The ship has set up lounge chairs and striped umbrellas all along the beach.

Uniformed attendants are fetching drinks and snacks for the
Extravagance
passengers.

“Day Two on the Solu cruise and spirits are high!” I say.

As if on cue, the crowd behind me erupts into laughter.

“Last night, me and four hundred and ninety-nine of my closest friends had our first taste of Solu, the new sweetener that not only tastes delicious, just like sugar, but helps you lose weight.

“We're here on Key West at Lux Beach, the sunny, white-sand beaches owned by Lux Cruise Lines.”

A middle-aged couple with deep tans crosses nearby. I wave them over.

“Scale of one to ten, what would you give the cruise so far?”