Charlotte starts to cry in her car seat. “Yes, I know, Charlotte. I think she’s a bitch, too.”
Pulling up to Fig & Olive, I can see Rachel waiting for us outside. Or rather, she’s signing autographs for a few tourists walking down La Cienega. I feel a pang in my stomach as I watch the fans’ faces light up with joy as she chats them up, even patiently posing for multiple pictures. Still not used to seeing a version of myself, I wonder when I let my hair get so blond, going from the golden hue I’d always coveted to a harsh white. My mantra has always been you can never be too blond or too skinny. Now, as I watch my emaciated arms wrap themselves around a couple and their son, I wonder if I may have taken that mantra a bit too far. Rachel looks over and sees us, breaking away and opening the van door, pulling Charlotte out of her car seat easily. Charlotte squeals in delight. That baby can definitely see straight through us to our souls.
We’re escorted to one of the best tables in the restaurant and I follow the way people watch Rachel, or the way they watch Casey Lee, walk in. They’re fixated on her, some even whispering to each other. How odd to literally sit back and see the way others see you. Rachel’s turned into a pro, striding confidently in her sky-high Manolo Blahniks and blowing a kiss to Randy Jackson across the room, clearly enjoying every minute. I guess stepping into my life was easier than I thought.
She’s so caught up in hobnobbing that she doesn’t notice my highlights until she finally sits down. “What did you do to my hair?” she asks accusingly as she leans over and tugs at a strand.
“Ow!” I cry and the couple next to us looks over. “What does it look like I did?” I whisper. “I gave it an update.”
“An update?” she snorts. “Don’t you need to consult me when you change my hair? I guess now’s the time to tell you I’m chopping off all of yours tomorrow,” she says with a fake laugh.
“Calm down,” I say quickly. “All I meant is that you always complain that you never have time to get your hair done, so I went and did it for you.”
“Okay,” she says, backing down. “But just out of curiosity, when did you find time to go to the salon? How long were you there? Three, four hours? Because you also got my eyebrows done, and if I know you the way I think I do, you waxed something else too.”
I smile. “Well, you said I could call Jan,” I say sheepishly. I’ve always been a sucker for a good Brazilian wax.
“In an emergency!” she says loudly, and the man and woman turn toward us again and I see a look of recognition pass over their faces as they take in Rachel. I give her a pointed look that says, Cool it.
“In my mind, it was an emergency. You needed these highlights.” I shake my head around like the woman from the L’Oréal commercial.
“Whatever,” she says, but I can tell by her relaxed tone that she’s forgiven me already. “What did John think?”
“W-what?” I stammer as I pick up the menu and hold it up to avoid her eyes.
She leans over and pulls the menu down. “What did John say? Did he even notice?”
“The wax?”
“No! The highlights!”
“Oh, of course.” I choose my words carefully. “He said it looked nice.”
“Really?” she asks, looking hurt that he complimented me. Even though he thought he was actually complimenting her. In college, I was always uncomfortable when John said something nice about how I looked in front of Rachel, even though his intentions were always seemingly innocent. The air in the room always got thick for a brief moment, me breaking the tension with some self-deprecating comment.
The waiter walks up to take our order. When he leaves, I’m about to bring up what happened with Sophie when Rachel starts talking about Charlie. How Charlie is so nice, so sweet, and so helpful. So great at his job. Why had I never mentioned him again?
“There was nothing to say,” I say firmly, even though there was so much to say, too much. But I had been afraid to confide in Rachel. At the time, it just seemed easier not to talk about it.
“Destiny told me everything.” She holds my gaze. “You can stop bullshitting me now.”
I break eye contact and start playing with the napkin in my lap. Charlotte drops her sippy cup and we both reach over to grab it at the same time. Rachel gets it first and hands it back to her with a wide smile. Charlotte giggles and claps, dropping it once more.
“I don’t know what Destiny told you, but it was nothing.”
“Nothing? Really? I can’t even get the nicest guy at my work to sit with me at the craft service table for five minutes.”
“My work,” I say quietly.