The Real Real Read Online Free PDF Page B

over at her. “It’s really slow in the afternoon, so it’s mostly getting the place ready for the morning—”
    The front doorbells jingle, and we all look over to see Drew pulling off his ski hat as he steps in from the dark street. I am suddenly redder than the Smucker’s.
    “Go, go, go!” Kara barks excitedly, and two cameras whip up. Startled, Drew steps backward into a hanging basket. Sam squeezes past the garbage can to train his lens on Drew as Kara jumps up on a chair to clear the way.
    Drew looks up at Kara and opens his mouth.
    “Don’t!” she and I say at the same time. “We’re not supposed to look at her or talk to her,” I add.
    “Just act natural. Do what you were going to do,” Kara whispers.
    This seems to kick Drew back into gear. He walks to the register, Ben and his camera trailing after his 38

    snow-damp sneakers. “Hey . . . ”
    “Hi,” I say as Kara exaggeratedly swirls her arms from atop her chair. “ Drew . Hi, Drew.”
    “Hi, Jesse.” He’s paralyzed.
    “I bet you wanted something to eat.”
    “Yes.” His eyes thank me. “Yeah, I’m here for some, um . . . ”
    “Hot chocolate?”
    “Sure!”
    “Riveting,” Ben mutters.
    “Enough,” Kara snipes.
    I turn and mechanically pour the Swiss Miss into a paper cup before filling it with steaming water. “Whipped cream?”
    “Sure. I mean, yes, thanks.”
    I spray a circle of foam and then hand it to him. He takes it and we stare at each other, sweating. “Um, that’ll be three twenty-five.”
    “Right.” Drew puts down the cup to fish in the pocket of his navy North Face. He hands me a five. “I was going to get muffins.”
    “Do you want some? I can totally add them to this.” I freeze with the bill over the drawer.
    “No, I just—I had a joke about . . . packing a basket of goodies.”
    “Oh.” I nod, utterly lost. I hand him his change, my fingertip grazing his palm.
    “Thanks.” He stuffs it into his pocket and in seconds is 39

    out the door in a clattering of sleigh bells, his hot chocolate left steaming on the counter.
    The second Kara and her crew clear the bakery window, I dive for my cell and text Caitlyn. “I’m taking my break!” I yell down to Jamie Beth as I pull on my coat. I wait for an impatient minute during which I hear nothing.
    “Jamie Beth, that means you have to come upstairs!” She appears at the base of the steps.
    “Whatever, I’m coming.” She trudges heavily up in her unlaced work boots, and I jog out the door into the little lantern-lit courtyard that abuts the back of the Maiden Lane shops. I climb through the crusted ice to where the snow-filled fountain sits dormant as one of the French doors to Bambette opens. Caitlyn steps out, a blue infant’s sweater on her head and what looks to be pairs of matching cashmere pants on each hand.
    “Doubling as outerwear,” she greets me. “Four hundred dollars an item makes total sense.”
    “Drew just came into the Pear!” I hop in the snow.
    “Drew-Drew?” She hops with me.
    “Drew-Drew?” I grab her forearms to steady us as I think for a moment. “Yes. Yes, he is now officially Drew-Drew. He wanted muffins, but then left his hot chocolate and ran off—”
    “Aw, did ya scare him with your b-girl do? Thought you were going to get gangsta on his ass?”
    “What?”
    She points at my turned-around hat and splayed hair.

40
    “Crap.” I grab it off my head. “That’s the XTV people.
    Totally embarrassing. They came in to film, and you can’t acknowledge that they’re there—”
    “ XTV came into the Prickly Pear to film you ?”
    “I guess. Unless they’re also shooting The Real Hampton Cosmetology School starring Jamie Beth.”
    “They came in to film you .” Her shoulders drop.
    “They’re just shooting after-school stuff! They’re probably going down the block store by store. I’m sure they’ll be in Bambette any minute.”
    Caitlyn whips the sweater off her head. “Really?”
    “Yes!”
    “I have