Read Online And Everything Nice by Kim Moritsugu - Free Book Online

almost see the dollar signs in his eyes when he walked away.
    Anna said, “He’s cute. And I can tell he really likes you.”
    â€œHe’s a solid guy. Sweet. And supportive. When I had to film that video audition for work? He did the shooting and the editing and everything. He did an ace job too.”
    â€œI’d love to see your video sometime.”
    â€œReally? Because I uploaded it to my Facebook profile. I could show it to you right now.”
    â€œOh yes, show me,” she said. And if she was faking interest, she faked it well.
    I accessed Facebook on my phone and played it for her. The first minute of it anyway. I didn’t want to bore her with the whole thing.
    â€œYou look wonderful!” she said. “That outfit is so flattering. And the makeup. You sound good too, from what I can hear. Send me the link, will you? So I can see the rest?”
    â€œThanks, I will.” I put down my phone, picked up the menu. Looked at it like I hadn’t already decided what to have. “So, Noontime is going national, huh? You must be happy.”
    â€œSo happy.” Quietly, she said, “What with that news and getting the journal back, I’ve had a fantastic week. And when I think about how depressed I was last Wednesday at this time! What a difference a few days make.” She lifted her glass. “To friends who come through in a crunch.”
    I clinked glasses with her and sipped the champagne.
    â€œEverything on the menu sounds delicious,” she said. “I’m trying to decide between the duck and the scallops for the main course. What do you think?”
    We talked about the menu. The waiter came over with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. We finished our first glasses and watched him open it. He poured us each a second glass. We ordered our food. And during all that, I thought about the gap between Anna and me. About how we must look sitting together at the table—the tv star and the nobody. About how with my lack of education and experience, I had little chance of making it to even her level of fame and success. Unless, of course, I decided to do a little blackmailing of my own.
    Think about it. I had the means—I knew about the affair. I had a motive: not money, but the desire for a new job, a new future. In television, working with her, on the national version of Noontime . And when it came to opportunity, I could speak up right there, at the dinner table.
    I could tell her I had some ideas for how to “spice” up the show. Like that a funny bit might be to ask people what nicknames they give their own and their sweetheart’s privates. Wouldn’t that make for a laugh? And while my meaning sank in and the color drained from her face, I could mention I’d always wanted to work in tv. Hell, I could be as bold as Brandon and ask her right out if she was hiring. I’d leave it unsaid that she would know what to do if she didn’t want her secrets made public.
    I took my first sip of champagne from the second glass. Anna was well into hers, and was going on about her plans for the show. She wanted to work in more food segments. Travel to small towns and find hidden gem bakeries. Visit wineries. Conduct cook-offs for regional food specialties. Have the winners of the cook-offs come on the show and cook with her. “What do you think? Would those ideas attract more viewers your age?”
    Before I could answer, the waiter brought our first course. We were sharing the chef ’s signature dish, a salad made with seven kinds of exotic vegetables. It came piled six inches high on the plate and was crowned with deep-fried taro root.
    â€œLook at those colors! That presentation! It’s beautiful!” Anna said. “I should take a picture for my blog. Do you mind waiting a second before we eat it?”
    â€œNot at all. Go to town.” I leaned back so no part of my body would be in the picture. And watched her