Faking Reality Page 12

  “That’s not fifteen percent.” Jake points at my math.

  “I know. It’s thirty.” The production company’s accountant can presume that I can’t do percentages too.

  “My, aren’t you generous.” The way Jake says it doesn’t sound like a compliment.

  “Food service is a hard job.” I sign my name with a flourish.

  As we pass Mrs. Matsuda on the way out the front door of the now-empty restaurant, I dip my head and thank her for the meal. “Gochisōsama deshita.”

  Jake and I stand outside in silence for an eternity before his Uber arrives. “Do you want to share the ride? I’m happy to take you home first.”

  “My car will be here any minute.” And by “my car,” I mean my dad and his brand-new Ford pickup truck. “You can send Stephanie, our talent coordinator, your Uber receipt and she’ll make sure the production company reimburses you.”

  “Great. I will.”

  I am so done with this guy. “Thanks for coming out tonight. I have some more auditions to do, but Stephanie will get back to you soon.”

  “Awesome.” Jake takes my icy hands in his equally icy hands. “I feel like we had a connection in there.”

  I’m not sure which date he was on, but I disagree. “You’re really … something.”

  “You are too.”

  When Jake leans in to kiss me, my hand instinctively shoots out. He lets out a little oof when the heel of my palm collides with his chest.

  “Too early?” Jake says.

  “Way too early.”

  “Okay then. Next time. They made me the lead in the movie for a reason, you know.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure they did.” I open the car door for him. “Night.”

  I fight the urge to shove Jake inside like I’m taking him down to the police station for crimes against polite society.

  “Talk to you soon, beautiful.” Jake puts his hand up to his ear and mimes, “Call me.”

  I slam the door closed. Jake gives me a flirty wave as they pull away.

  “Thaaaaank yooooou!” I yell as they drive away.

  Ugh. I stomp through the parking lot and throw open the door of the restaurant. Aurora’s cackles echo through the empty restaurant.

  Aurora puts her hand on a table for stability because she is laughing so hard. “Baka dayo!”

  “Aurora!” Mrs. Matsuda says, though I agree that Jake’s an idiot.

  “C’mon, Mom, this guy is definitely on the Top Ten list for Jerkiest Customers Ever,” Aurora says as Leo joins us. “And when he leaned in for the good-night kiss and Koty’s like, ‘Naaaaw, dude.’” Aurora imitates me protecting my personal space and snort-laughs. “I thought I was going to pee my pants.”

  “We’re not going to let you pay for tonight, Dakota.” Mrs. Matsuda opens up the cash register.

  “Yes, you are, because the show is reimbursing me.”

  “Not necessary, but thank you.” Mrs. Matsuda holds out an equal number of bills in each hand for her kids. Aurora immediately snatches her tip, but Leo looks at the money.

  “You earned it.” I take the money from Mrs. Matsuda and hand it to Leo. “Can I take Ojiichan up on his offer of the matcha ice cream mochi now? I wanted dessert, but that would have meant more monologues on dust motes and ketogenic diets and other topics that make me want to bang my head on the table.”

  This pulls a smile out of Leo. “Let me bus these last two tables and take the trash out. Then I’ll join you for dessert.”

  I help Leo bus the tables so that we can get to the ice cream part faster. I let him do the garbage solo. We’re close. But not that close.

  “I want to hear all about this later, Koty.” Aurora sprints through the restaurant while putting on her coat. “But Jayden is here.”

  Mrs. Matsuda pokes her head out the kitchen door and yells, “You still have an eleven o’clock curfew, Aurora!”

  “What? Eleven thirty, Mom? Thanks! Got it. See you at home.” Aurora ducks out the front door before her mom can correct her.

  I slide into my favorite booth and take a deep breath. What a night. A second later, Leo comes out of the kitchen.

  “Compliments of the chef.” Leo presents the ball of matcha-flavored ice cream wrapped in a thin layer of pounded sweet rice, like he’s handing me a bouquet of long-stemmed roses. “We here at Matsuda like to take care of our VIPs. Even when they bring in dates who apparently missed the day they taught basic manners in kindergarten.”

  “Seriously. I mean there is oblivious, and then there is straight-up rude. Please tell me that non-reality-TV dates don’t look like that.” I take a huge bite. The slightly bitter matcha blends with the sweetness of the soft mochi covering.

  “Mine definitely haven’t.” Leo bites into his strawberry ice cream mochi.

  Part of me can’t bear to hear about Leo’s dates. Part of me is dying to know, and this might be my only chance to ask without it being too weird.

  “Okay, enlighten me on what a real date might look like then.”

  “First of all, I would have picked you up at your house.”

  “That’s a nope for me. I don’t want strangers knowing where I live.”

  “A thirty-second Google search answers that question,” Leo says, and I flinch. He knows we have security cameras and alarm systems on our build and the house for a reason. “Okay, presume that I passed the ‘I’m not a serial killer’ test in a public setting first, and you are okay with me coming to your house. I would show up with flowers. Is that too much?”

  “Depends on what kind of flowers they are.”

  “Since this is a fantasy situation, let’s say tulips because roses might be too presumptuous.” Leo crams the rest of his mochi in his mouth and licks his fingers. “Or if you are going with the realistic I-work-for-tips-only version, whatever is on sale in the flower section at Walmart.”

  “I like flowers, but I think it’s a little old-fashioned to expect them. A single flower hand cut from your mom’s garden would have the same effect on me as a huge bouquet.”

  But only if you don’t sign it: Breathlessly, Jake.

  “Really?” Leo mimes taking notes. “Steal flower from Mom’s garden for Lindsay.”

  I hope Leo can’t see my cringe. I asked for this, after all. “Okay, flower accepted. Now what?”

  “Fantasy version: I pick you up in my dope, cherry-red Ford Mustang convertible. Reality version: I pick you up in my family’s minivan. I would spray the van with Febreze and remove any old protein bar wrappers from underneath the seats prior to the date, though.”

  “If I just spent thirty minutes obsessing over my hair, I wouldn’t want to ride in your convertible. At least not without a heads-up first. That said, if the date goes well and you want to go to Lookout Mountain Park to star-gaze, a convertible would be the better pick for a romantic moment.” I can’t help myself. I have to go there.

  “Naw, trust me, the minivan is a much better choice.” Leo waggles his eyebrows at me.

  “Can we not?”

  “You brought it up.”

  “Okay, back up to the beginning of the date. We get into a nice, sensible, but still sporty hardtop car and go…”

  “Fantasy date: Anywhere I’d have to Google the pronunciations of the food on the menu before we got there. Reality date: Here. Again, the works-for-tips problem.”

  “Dude, the last time I ate at one of those types of restaurants, I asked my parents to stop at Sonic for a corn dog on the way home. Again, outdated ideas. Plus, it sounds like a place Jake Yong would take me to in an attempt to impress me. I’d come here.”

  Leo sits back in the booth. “Even if there were other paparazzi-free areas available to you?”

  “Yeah. Sure, I want to dine local and support the people I love, but for real, Ojiichan’s food is ichiban, the best. Even if I could eat anywhere I wanted, I would still use this place as my litmus test. Like, if you don’t love miso-katsu and ice cream mochi as much as I do, then there is no way we’re going to m
ake it to a second date.”

  “Agreed. Lucky for me, Lindsay likes both.” A sweet smile pulls at the corners of Leo’s mouth.

  The look stabs me in the chest. Leo deserves to be happy, and Lindsay does too, but why does it have to hurt so much? I clear my throat and try to be a better best friend.

  “You know what would melt my heart, and I bet Lindsay’s too?” I say. Leo sits up straight. “Cooking for her. Gotta love a man who cooks.”

  “Speaking of outdated ideas. If I said I loved a girl who could cook, you would be all over me about the patriarchy—besides, all the men in my family cook. We own a restaurant. Duh.”

  “Okay, true. It’s a double standard that needs to go. So, let’s just say I would be impressed by anyone who cooked for me. And if it were a person I had a romantic interest in, they would get bonus points.”

  “Agreed. And the good thing is that I can do this, and it wouldn’t cost me a cent. What should I make? Something impressive but easy. My cooking repertoire is still pretty small.”

  “Depends. Will there be kissing involved later? If so, then curry and rice or anything that has a lot of green onions or garlic in it would be a bad choice.”

  “Lots of kissing at Lookout Mountain Park while stargazing and—”

  “TMI.” I wave my hands next to my head to wipe away the image in my brain.

  “What do you think about going to the Japanese Friendship Garden downtown? On a free First Friday Night, of course. Romantic or Try Hard?”

  “Romantic, especially if it is close to Otsukimi. You could bring some ocha. Maybe have Sasha make you some moon- or rabbit-themed manju since it is the Moon-Viewing Festival. You could bring a blanket and have a small picnic beside the koi pond. Talk about romantic. I’d be like, bam. I’m dead. RIP.”

  Leo’s laugh echoes around the empty restaurant. “Can you plan all my dates from now on? In fact, Lindsay would probably rather date you than me. Not only do you have great ideas, but you also have the time and money to pull them off.”

  “Yeah, I’m not out to steal your girl.”

  A pained look wipes away Leo’s smile. He leans in and lowers his voice. “Aurora is right. How are we ever expected to have any kind of social life or significant other when our dating time is all of thirty minutes—an hour if the restaurant is having a bad night—before curfew on weekends? It’s not fair.”

  One good thing about your moms being BFFs is that curfew rules become negotiable. Just as the restaurant is a safe zone for me, my house is a safe zone for Leo. A place for him to relax and be a typical teen, instead of just a cog in the family machine.

  “After Aurora moves as far away from us as she possibly can next fall, guess whose social life is going to take an even bigger hit?” Leo runs a hand through his wavy hair and lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose Lindsay before we even have a fighting chance. Ojiichan is on me all the time about being on my phone instead of paying attention to the customers. Can’t see her. Can’t talk to her. Can’t text her. Full boyfriend fail.”

  Leo leans over and gently bangs his head on the table a few times before tucking his arms under his chin like a pillow. He mumbles into the table, “I’m so tired.”

  I can’t stop myself. I reach across the table to stroke Leo’s hair. He’s let the top part grow out since the summer, and now his dark brown hair has natural waves. Leo looks up at me. My heart threatens to exit stage left. Of all the boys in the world, why does my heart continue to want the one I can’t have?

  I pull my hand away. “I like your hair longer.”

  “Ojiichan doesn’t. He keeps threatening to cut my hair himself.”

  “Just clean up the bottom, but leave the top longer.” I rake my fingers through his hair to pull some of the waves forward and to the side. “Aw, yeah. Give ’em The Full Dimple Smile and, boom, bigger tips.”

  Leo wraps his fingers around my wrist. “You’re making things weird, Koty.”

  “I am not.” Okay, I am. I pull my wrist away from his grasp and sit back. “I’m giving you fashion advice. And you’re giving me dating advice since you’re the expert.”

  “Yeah, right. Speaking of dating, I promised Lindsay I would FaceTime her after work.” Leo digs out his phone.

  “Yeah. Sure. Sorry. Dad should be here any minute. I’ll wait outside and give you some privacy.”

  “No, it’s fine. Wait inside the front door.” Leo slides out of the booth. He heads to the opposite side of the restaurant, taking my heart with him. He’s on his phone with Lindsay before I even get my coat on. My heart cracks a little more when I hear him say, “Hey, babe.”

  Dad flashes his headlights from the parking lot. I take a deep breath, push my feelings down, and poke my head into the kitchen. Ojiichan puts away the food while Mrs. Matsuda does the accounting for the day. Mr. Matsuda dries the last of tonight’s hundreds of dishes.

  “My dad is here,” I say. “Thanks again for tonight.”

  Mrs. Matsuda slides off her purple reading glasses. “Anytime, honey. You and Doug be careful going home.”

  “Oyasuminasai, Ojiichan,” I say.

  “Hai, hai.” He and Mr. Matsuda both give me a short wave.

  As I travel across the darkened restaurant, I hear Leo’s whispers. I don’t want to interrupt him on his version of a date. I unlock the front door and let myself out.

  “So, how did the date-slash-audition go?” Dad says when I slide into the pickup. I give him a look. “That good, huh? Okay, back to the drawing board. Besides, it’s not like this was a real date. We’ll find the perfect person, don’t worry.”

  I know who the perfect person is. He’s currently leaning out the front door of his parents’ restaurant and waving at me.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I say.

  Chapter

  14

  Though one would argue I should be studying for finals, which start on Friday, instead, I spend my rare free afternoon obsessing over my upcoming second date. I’m texting Nevaeh my twentieth or thirtieth wardrobe choice when Stephanie taps on my open bedroom door.

  “Hey, kiddo, I have some bad news.” Stephanie pushes over the heaping pile of clothes on my bed and sits down. “Date Number Two canceled.”

  “Why?” I smooth the fitted sweater dress over my curves.

  “Because he got picked up yesterday by Warner Brothers for a new action hero show for kids. He flies out to New Zealand to start filming right after the holidays.”

  “Aww, Tyson genuinely seemed like a nice guy. At least from his reel and the few texts we’ve exchanged.” Granted, everybody fronts on social media, but now all the red flags I missed on Jake Yong’s page are suddenly crystal clear. Live and learn.

  “Oh wait, it gets better … or worse. Potential Date Number Three is off the list too.” Stephanie digs her hand through the clothing pile until she finds the perfect jade-colored jacket to layer over the top of the dress. “He was caught shoplifting last weekend. For the third time. Yep, don’t need that in the tabloids. So, I had an idea. How do you feel about somebody local but from a different school?”

  “Nope.”

  “Hear me out. Alex is a friend of my niece’s. He was at her birthday party last weekend. Polite. Clean cut. Good student. Talented baseball player. Naturally funny. Just turned eighteen, but still a senior. Not a professional actor. Not even a hobby actor. Would you be interested in me setting something up with him?”

  “I don’t know.” I flop down next to Stephanie. “At least with the actors, they know what they are getting into. It seems less icky.”

  “It’s not icky. Most high school seniors I know would jump at the chance to earn an easy $5,000 to go toward their college funds. Do a test date. If Alex passes muster, we’ll see if Phil will do a screen test on him.”

  “Is he cute?”

  “Since I am old enough to be his mother, I will say, yes, Alex is conventionally attractive.”

  I stand up and survey my outfit. Nevaeh would wear this ou
tfit on a date without blinking an eye. Probably with wings. But maybe I could wear it too, only with some cute boots and the jade-colored jacket. Maybe I could give this mystery guy a chance. Surely he couldn’t be any worse than Jake Yong.

  “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Awesome. I’ll see if Alex is available sometime over winter break and get back to you.”

  Chapter

  15

  The calendar might say it’s December 23, but here in the McDonalds’ Alternate Universe, Dad and I are wearing short-sleeved T-shirts because it’s April. It doesn’t snow in Phoenix, but we’ve got the portable heaters running full-tilt in the build, at least until it’s time to film.

  “Last shot, folks.” Phil takes a chug of coffee, his sixth cup of the day. “Then, we’ll call it a wrap for this year and take a long, much-needed break.”

  I don’t know why Phil specifically looks at me during “much needed.” So we had a spirited discussion this morning about his latest ratings-booster idea that I should arrive at my birthday party in a horse-drawn carriage shaped like a pumpkin. What the actual Phil?! No. Just. No.

  “We need everybody to settle,” Phil says.

  Phil’s PA cuts the heaters off. I drop my jacket into Stephanie’s outstretched arms. Mom takes her mark while crew members hand Dad and me our matching cordless drills.

  “When you’re ready.” Phil nods at Mom.

  “While Doug and Dakota finish installing the chandelier in the dining room,” Mom says while walking in front of the stepladder I’m straddling, “I have the fun job of stocking our 1930s kitchen. What a lot of people don’t know is that this now-suburbanized area of Phoenix was once mostly farmland. Akagi House—back when it was still the Jansens’ stately ranch home in the early 1900s—once sat on 140 acres of alfalfa. Danish immigrants like the Jansens weren’t the only ones to come to this area to farm, though.”

  Dad and I pretend to install the chandelier until Mom is in the kitchen, and we are out of the camera’s shot. I climb back down the ladder and quietly peek in the door to see Mom go full-on History Nerd for the folks watching at home.