The Secret Ingredient (16 page)

“Ollie, what is it?”

“Nothing, Dad.”

If I talk about it, I’ll cry. I have to pretend it didn’t happen.

“I heard it’s impossible to get a gig here,” I whisper to Bell. “He’s always wanted to.”

Lola appears at the table and says, “Nothing is impossible. Hi, Mr. Reese.”

“Oh, hi, Lola!” Bell kisses her hand.

For the next few minutes, as the place fills up, Bell and Lola talk and gesture, getting along as they usually do, but I’m not really listening to them. I am picturing the girl in Theo’s kitchen. Blond, of course. I unclench my fists and try to breathe deeply.

Jeremy isn’t introduced, but the lights go completely black, and you can hear the first notes of his song “Broken.” Everyone thinks it has these deep meanings, but it’s just about the time he broke his arm. It sounds like some of the lyrics have changed, though, and he’s really singing the story, and even though I’m still a little mad at him, of course I’m rooting for him anyway. I truly am swept up and completely moved by his performance.

Lola and Bell hoot and holler, and I just shake my head in wonder and clap like crazy. There’s a lot of whispering going on, but when Jeremy starts his second song it goes completely quiet again. This must be the song he wrote with Pen, because I can see her beaming across the room. It’s more pop than Jeremy usually is, but it sounds really great.

By the fifth song, the place is completely packed, and you could hear a pin drop. I am starting to believe this is real, that Jeremy may have a life doing this. I know I sound like Davida, but the whole room has this energy to
it, like everyone can sense history is happening, that this night will be reminisced about for years to come. I look over at Bell, who seems to be feeling it too. Lola has her eyes closed and looks serene, which I’ve never witnessed before. I can see Enrique, who is sitting in the back with Luisa since we ran out of chairs at our table. He’s smiling from ear to ear.

Before his last song, Jeremy says, “This one’s about being in jail. Thanks for coming.”

Bell and I look at each other and roll our eyes. The song, called “Inside,” is heartbreakingly beautiful and sad. It’s not so much about being in jail as about being at the end of one’s proverbial rope. Everyone has been there. I notice a few people dab at their eyes. Jeremy’s voice sounds better than I ever remember it sounding. I hear the psychic saying
He will soar
. I wish with all my might that she’s right. She seems to have been right about a lot of things. The one thing she never mentioned was my fear of the ocean, which has been weighing on my mind lately. I’ve always thought of that incident as having had such a hand in shaping my reserved nature. If I want to break out of that, to be more adventurous, less passive, maybe I need to face my fear. Plus, it wouldn’t be a bad idea, given that I’m about to go back to Laguna, a place so focused on the ocean that the town name includes the word
beach
.

Bell takes off early to make sure FOOD is running smoothly, and Enrique goes with him. Lola and I wait for
Jeremy, who’s doing something he usually hates to do: schmoozing. When he finally makes it over to our table, he gives me a long hug.

“Dude, what did you think?”

“I’m at a loss.”

“Poignant!” Lola says.

“Thanks, Lo. You taking good care of my sis?”

“Trying.”

“Jeremy. How did you just, like, become a rock star overnight?” I ask.

“Well, jail helped.”

“Right?” Lola says, as if she knows all about the big house.

“Anyway, Mr. Man over there says he thinks we have two possible deals … bidding war or some crap like that.”

I jump up and down a little. “No way!”

“I know! Hey, where are the Dads?”

“They had to go back to FOOD. They stayed for the whole thing and were smiling the entire time. They loved it.” I notice everyone looking over at us. “You should mingle.”

“I have to go pick up my mum,” Lola says, then turns to me. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yes. Please tell her I say hi, okay?”

“Will do. She loved the zucchini bread you made her.”

As Lola heads out and Jeremy goes back to talk up the suits, I sit down and take a large sip of juice. I look at the empty stage, still flooded with red and yellow lights, and I
can’t help but think about how much more is out there for Jeremy and me. More than this room, this neighborhood, this city. It’s as if everything up until now has just been flour, yeast, and eggs, the basic foundation, and now it’s time to see if we’ll rise.

CHAPTER 22

“Laguna?”

I’m getting the feeling that Bell is not exactly receptive to the idea, seeing as he’s pacing around the kitchen.

“Lola needs to get away for a couple days. She’s been working so hard, caring for her mom. She needs something for herself.” I realize as I say this that it’s true and make a mental note to follow through on it. “Her aunt will be here taking over soon, but she’ll still have a lot to deal with.”

Bell runs his fingers through his hair, never a good sign.

“Dad, it’s fifty miles away. No big deal.”

He takes a minute or two and then looks at me like I’m a lost cause. He throws his arms up and says, “Okay, okay. Go, then. I know you can take care of yourself.” He looks out the window like he’s trying to make out something in
the distance. Then he turns back and says, “Here,” handing me some cash. “Why don’t you make the special tonight since you won’t be here over the weekend?”

I don’t tell Bell about Jane Armont, and I wonder if I really would have gone through with it that day even if Jeremy hadn’t been put in jail. That bridge may be crossed later. Instead I give him a tight hug and say, “Sure. Thanks, Dad. I can get the ingredients after work. I’ll get something that won’t need to be cooked.”

Lola picks me up from the office, and we head to the farmers’ market. She looks different, like someone punctured her and she lost a little air. I can see the toll everything’s taking on her.

“Isn’t it a bit ironic, you gaining a mother and me losing one?”

“Your mother’s going to get better. And I’m not going to let mine know who I am until I feel it out, as planned. I don’t want to, like, disrupt her life.”

“Well, she disrupted yours.”

“I guess you could say that.”

The farmers’ market is super crowded. A few people bump into me as they walk past. Aside from being a place for people to check each other out, it’s where you can buy local. I taste a sample of a watermelon and decide on a salad. I buy two ripe watermelons, four bags of arugula, pumpkin seeds, and some special soft feta cheese.

“I just hope—I mean—sometimes you get a taste of something and it isn’t enough,” Lola says.

“Well, I know that this Jane Armont person isn’t going to drop everything and start mothering me, but I still need to see her.”

“I know, just be careful. It’ll be great whatever happens—don’t worry about it.”

Lola helps me bring the stuff over to FOOD, and as she’s leaving, I grab her arm and say, “Sometimes you call me a star. Well,
you’re
the star. You can’t lose that light you give out, that shine you put on the world. It needs Lola, the world needs Lola.”

She starts to get teary, but when Jeremy comes up on his bike, she composes herself.

“Thanks,” she says, touching my arm, and walks away.

Jeremy hops off his bike. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Long story. What’s going on?”

His face lights up, and I know he got a record deal. My brother got a record contract.

“Dude, it was a bidding war. Can you even deal? They want the cowrite with the cougar to be the single, but I don’t really care anymore. I’ll get behind a machine if it means I get a colossal advance and the chance to be heard.” He shakes the hair out of his face. “I know I’ve been a nightmare up until now. But this is it, Ol, this is my calling. By the way, I saw your Biker Boy. He came to my place looking for you.”

“He did?”

“He seemed kind of aggro.”

I don’t want to go into the whole Theo thing with Jeremy, so I give him a hug and say, “I gotta go prep. I’m so happy for you.”

“Yeah, well, nothing’s signed yet, but it’s all supposedly happening.”

“As much as I’m still annoyed with you, you deserve it.”

“Thanks, Ol. See you later.”

For my special, I slice a large thin rectangle of watermelon and put it on the bottom of the plate, then crumble feta on top.…

Rose hasn’t seen her for months, but she knows Eloise got arrested during a Women’s Liberation demonstration. She sees Eloise’s picture in the paper, and feels her chest swell with pride. Rose is bold, but she would never have gotten arrested. It’s a warm Saturday, and Rose is shopping with her mother. They’re going to make Welsh rarebit, Kurt’s favorite. Her mother is in great spirits, as Rose’s bump is beginning to show. When people ask, her mother takes over the conversation as if she is having the baby herself. Rose doesn’t mind. She’s happy, and knows it’s what everyone wants
.

If I ever get pregnant, will Jane be there to give me pointers? Will she ever know that she’s a grandmother? I add
a line of arugula, and a sprinkling of pumpkin seeds for crunch. Then I start cutting lemons for the dressing.…

Except Eloise. And there she is, standing by the melons, looking beautiful as ever, but when she gets closer, Rose notices something has drained from her eyes; they’ve lost their shine. Rose’s mother immediately excuses herself, and Rose is grateful. They stare at each other and smile. Eloise points to Rose’s bump and congratulates her. She’s so formal about it. Rose feels a sinking in her stomach. Is this how it’s going to be? Two acquaintances meeting in the grocery store? She hopes not. Eloise gives her a hug, and when she pulls away, tears fill her eyes and she says, “I hope it’s a girl.”

The key is to squeeze lemon on the watermelon before everything else. It’s a perfect summer salad: sweet, sour, and savory. Which actually describes my life right now. Jeremy’s deal, Theo’s betrayal, my trip to Laguna. Just two more days and I’ll be there.

The salad is a hit and sells out by eight o’clock. I’m proud, and happy for the temporary distraction. But now it’s all racing back. How could Theo do that? Am I really that bad a judge of character?

When I leave, I find Bell in the alley, smoking. I know he must be beyond stressed out, because he quit five years ago.

“Dad. Don’t do this.”

“Sorry, Ollie. It’s all a bit crazy for me right now.”

I take the cigarette from his mouth and put it out.

“Is it about the house or the restaurant?” I ask.

“Both. I never pictured it coming to this.”

He shakes his head and I try to cheer him up. “Well, Jeremy is getting a huge record deal now. Has he told you yet?”

Bell looks up to the sky, I think half expecting it to fall.

“Yes. And well he should. But that’s his money.”

“Dad, your whole life has been dedicated to us. It’s our turn to start helping out.”

He gives me a soulful look. Bell always taught me to accept compliments with grace, to not be afraid of being helped, that we can’t do everything alone.

“Yes. You’re right. Now off you go.”

CHAPTER 23

The next day, Enrique wakes me up from an after-work nap.

“Ollie, I need a favor for you.”

“A favor
from
me.”

“Yes. There is a dinner. Tonight. The house of Len, the studio guy who loved your bruschetta. Bell will be at FOOD and can’t come, obviously, but I have to go and I need you to come with me. This film he’s doing, it has gotten the green light, and it’s about ballet, and he’s paying me to consult with him. I don’t know if it will be enough to get us out of our hole, but it could be a lot. I can’t show up alone. When he says bring someone, you bring someone, it doesn’t matter who. But I’m sure he will be happy to see you.”

Enrique is really trying, and maybe it’s because I’m groggy, but it touches me.

“Okay,” I say.

“Great. Six o’clock.”

“Okay, Papá, okay.”

He does an arabesque.

On our way to Bel Air, I secretly thank myself that I put a good dress on. Yes, it’s secondhand, but the style is timeless and suits my body. Enrique is wearing a sports coat I’ve never seen before. And he’s done his hair with a part, making him look very
Mad Men
.

When we arrive at Len’s house, a giant gate is opened. The driveway goes on forever. The place looks like Versailles, or what I’ve seen of it in textbooks. When we get to the front door, what appear to be British butlers greet us and lead us down a long hallway adorned with paintings that are probably original van Goghs. On the way, a waiter pops out a side door and hands us each a glass of champagne.

“Just have a sip,” Enrique whispers.

The house is completely overdone, with ornate gilt-framed mirrors and lush red carpets, crystal chandeliers, and intricate moldings. We finally reach a room where Len, presumably his assistant, and two other gentlemen sit. We all say hello, and Len looks surprised to see me. “Miss Bruschetta! What a pleasure!”

Enrique clears his throat and looks proud.

Len smiles and says, “Great. So, what do you think of the house?”

“Understated,” I blurt out, Bell’s ironic edge coming through me. Thankfully, Len thinks it’s hilarious and cracks up. The other two guys look at me funny. Swarms of servants surround us with appetizers and more drinks. I see those frozen quiche things and almost gasp. But there are some fresh tuna rolls, so I let it pass. I believe that all food can be prepared in an enjoyable way, whether it’s rice and beans or filet mignon, but a kajillionaire serving mini frozen quiches? Do you know how long it takes to make quiche? If you have the crust, basically about five minutes.

They talk about the film for a while, and I zone out, thinking about the Laguna trip—what I’ll wear, how I’ll sit, what Lola and I will discuss as I look around for Jane. When I tune back in, I manage to gather that one of the guys, Ross, is the director, and the other is the writer, but that’s about all I retain. Enrique is on fire, making everyone laugh and being as charming as possible without grating on them.