Page 1 of Fauxmance in the City

one

My entire career is made up of lies.

Not little lies. Big, fat explosive lies. It wasn’t meant to be this way. Of course, it wasn’t. I’m not a psycho.

It started innocently—little white puffs of misdirection and half-truths. But now here I am on the set of the biggest morning show in the nation—Good Day USA—dishing out my lies to millions of people.

The studio lights are hot and bright, blinding me for a moment. It reminds me that we’re about to go live. Once my eyes adjust, I scan my notecards. My heart flutters, but it’s only a whisper of the pounding timpani that thundered in my chest the first time I appeared on Good Day almost a year ago.

“Do you need a bottle of water?” Karen, the executive producer, calls from the darkness.

“I’m fine,” I say.

I have my notes, my experience, and my secret weapon—my sister Natalie. She’s standing by in the wings in case I falter.

Mandy from hair and makeup comes at me with a powder brush. Looking me over, she starts to pull my mocha-brown hair in front of my shoulders, then smooths it down.

“Don’t touch,” she gently scolds. Last month, I ran my fingers through my hair and got my oversized turquoise ring tangled in my tresses, forcing me to do the entire segment with my hand cupping the right side of my head.

There’s a scurry of movement as Holly Jenkins, the co-host of Good Day USA, leaves the living room set and joins me on the kitchen set where I stand behind the industrial metal counter. After reviewing her notes, Holly surveys the prepped ingredients in front of us: sliced beets and onions, walnuts, arugula, goat cheese, a halved orange, honey mustard, and a caddy with extra-virgin olive oil, salt, and pepper.

“Back in three.” Karen emerges from the black abyss beyond the lights, then pulls Holly aside for a quick chat.

Squinting, I search beyond the cameras for Natalie. This is an easy recipe—only a salad—but if Natalie isn’t nearby, my anxiety rises to Everest proportions. Holly is back at my side as the red light of camera two flicks on. Frantically, I glance around the studio. Where the hell is Natalie?

“Welcome back,” Holly says to the camera, her hair, makeup, and couture perfect. “Joining me in the kitchen today is our favorite domestic goddess, Catelyn Bloom from Simply Chic magazine. She’s here to show us the trick to making a gourmet salad in fifteen minutes.” Holly turns her dazzling smile on me.

“Right, uh…” I glance at my cards. I’ve done these cooking segments a dozen times, but always with Natalie in my line of vision, coaching me along. “Today, we’re making goat cheese and roasted beet salad.”

“Looks delicious.” Holly beams. “But there are a lot of ingredients laid out. How do you manage to make it in fifteen minutes? What’s the trick?”

“It’s easier than you think. First…”

Oh, shit. The trick just up and ghosted me. What is it?

My stomach clenches. This is live TV. There is no cut and do-over.

Natalie’s face appears to the right of the camera. She motions to the beets. Holding back a loud exhale, I fix my smile firmly in place.

Oh, right—beets.

“Instead of buying fresh beets—which take ages to boil and make your hands look like Lady Macbeth’s—buy canned beets. And instead of an entire onion—which you have to peel and cut and makes you cry off your mascara, giving you Panda- eyes—buy presliced onions in the produce section. Then quickly slice the beets, place both the beets and onions on a roasting pan”—which I do—“drizzle with olive oil and salt and pepper, then stick them in the oven at three-fifty for ten minutes.”

“It’s so simple!” Holly’s eyes widen as if I’ve just given her the cure for cancer, and I barely resist rolling my eyes.

I love coming on the show, but sometimes when I’m giving the nation three minutes of watered-down dribble about how to simplify their life, I wonder how the hell I got myself into my very own version of The Wizard of Oz. I’m the wizard putting on the show and Natalie is the girl behind the curtain of culinary magic, pulling the strings.

But there’s no time to ponder such existential questions right now. I have to show the world how to whip up a fabulous salad before their toddler has a tantrum or their phone pings with a text, drawing their attention away. Internally, I groan while plastering my own dazzling smile onto my face.

“While that’s roasting, whisk honey mustard, oil, and the juice of one orange in a bowl.” In the refrigerator, I pull out a plate of already-cooked beets and onions. “And when the beets and onions are done roasting, scoop them into a salad bowl with the arugula and walnuts, then add the dressing mixture. Voilà! The salad is—”

From the corner of my eye, I notice Natalie waving her hands and pointing wildly. I snap my glance her way, following her finger.

“Erm… I mean, don’t forget the star ingredient—goat cheese! Crumble it on top, and there you have it. A gourmet salad in under fifteen minutes.”

“As always, delicious and so easy.” Holly takes a tiny bite with her fork, then washes it down with water. “Your husband is one lucky man.”

Cringing at her words, I don’t dare look at Natalie.

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