I a lucky son of a bitch, or what?
Watching Cynthia stand up to Nadia is one of the most exciting things I’ve ever seen. No woman has ever come forward to ‘defend my honor’. It’s intoxicating.
I’m still sort of drunk on the whole thing when a few minutes later, Kenny calls “cut” and the crew reshuffles for the next set-up. Cynthia glances my way and our eyes meet. I immediately duck out of the dining room like some teenage boy who’s caught making eyes at the cute girl in class.
What can I do? I feel like a teenager. Because, let’s face the facts, here — I like her. I really, really like her. It’s way past time I do something about this. Take some action. No more half-assing it. No more playing it cool.
How could I not see it before? One of the things that’s supposed to separate a chef from your everyday cook is a knowledge of chemistry. When you have two flavors you want to combine, you need to consider it.
Ingredients don’t go together just because they’re great. They have to complement one another, enhance each other. What’s sweet about one ingredient masks what’s sour in the other; the bitterness of one ensures the sweetness of another isn’t overpowering.
And Cynthia and I are two flavors that belong together.
Drunk on the metaphor, I find myself wandering into the office. Tug is once again set up in front of his computer monitors, editing. Thanks to the exciting, fast-paced world of digital filming, he’s already working on the footage they just shot of Cynthia and Nadia.
I decide to hang for a moment and watch him cut together the epic and heroic moment when Cynthia stood up for me.
Except, just as Cynthia starts to open her mouth, Tug rewinds the footage. Then he starts to cut and recut. He moves things out of order. Cynthia’s dialogue from the top of the conversation suddenly moves to the end. Nadia’s most disparaging remarks are broken up to seem innocent…
I watch it all in silence, getting a sick feeling in my stomach. Finally, Tug sits back, and hits play to view his handiwork. I watch it play out, confirming my suspicions.
“What the fuck?” I exclaim.
Tug nearly leaps out of his chair. “Stephen! Where’d you come from?”
“What the hell did you just do?”
“Um....”
“That edit is not at all representative of how things actually went down.”
“This is reality TV, Stephen, not reality.”
“That sounds like a Rachna line,” I charge.
In answer, Tug points to a stick-it note attached to the edge of one of his monitors. On it, in Rachna’s sprawling cursive, is written, Reality TV, Not Reality.
I turn my attention back to Tug. “So, you’re just going to keep on making Cynthia look like a monster?”
“Boss’s orders.”
“I’m the boss.”
“You’re the host. This isn’t like one of your restaurants, man. Post-production is where the cooking happens. You’re just…”
He trails off, so I finish it for him. “An ingredient.”
Tug shrugs, “Rachna wants this dish spicy.”
“Let’s can the kitchen metaphor for a second,” I state, grabbing a chair and scooting it close to Tug. I sit my ass down and lean close. “Listen, man. I need you to put it back like it was.”
“But, Rachna –”
“I’ll have your back. I promise.”
Tug’s face scrunches up as he struggles with the two conflicting orders. “I dunno, man…”
“You got a girlfriend, Tug?”
“Yeah,” he says, confused by the sudden switch in topics. “We’re coming up on our one-year anniversary next month, in fact.”
“One year? That’s great! What were you planning on doing?”
“I got reservations at one of Nadia’s places, actually…”
“That’s nice, I guess. I mean, anyone can get a reservation at one of Nadia’s places…”
“Actually, she made it special for us –”
“But, don’t you think,” I say, speaking over him, “that your girlfriend would be even more impressed… by having a meal prepared, especially for her and you… cooked in your own kitchen… by Stephen Longvale himself?”
Tug’s eyes go wide as saucers and his mouth hangs open. “Dude! You’d do that?”
I nod. Then point at the monitors.
“Done and done,” he tells me.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
As he turns back to the computer, I lean my head out the office door. I spot Chase milling about and call him over.
“You’re going to hang out with Tug,” I inform him as he steps into the office. “Make sure our reality TV show looks just a little more like actual reality.”
Chase shrugs and grabs the seat next to Tug I just vacated.
I open the door and