12. Big Sugar Controls the World
12
Big Sugar Controls the World
From Barry Wright’s manifesto:
In the 1960s, agents of the sugar industry paid scientists to publish a study that blamed saturated fat as the cause of heart disease, even though there was also a link between sugar and bad health. More and more sugar has been creeping into our diets, when we’d all be stronger if we ate some good old-fashioned meat and potatoes.
TESSA
“ T hat was an adventure.” Lucie kissed my cheek and handed me her coat.
“I like my privacy,” I grumbled. “I’m starting to regret inviting you over.”
“Navigating your security system wasn’t that bad.” Carly wiped her shoes on the mat and stepped over the threshold. I’d locked my girls in an upstairs bedroom, but thankfully, she hadn’t brought her dog. My cats had never met a dog, but I suspected they wouldn’t be fans of her excitable little fluffball. “How’s she doing?”
“Honestly?” I grimaced. “Not great. She got a call from Jason this morning, then she deep-cleaned the kitchen. She was singing Jo Dee Messina on repeat the whole time.” Before this morning, I couldn’t have identified the country artist in a lineup, but I’d looked her up after the fifth warbling repetition of “A Lesson in Leavin’.”
“Who?” Andrew stepped into the doorway, loaded down with a pair of duffel bags.
“Don’t worry about it, honey.” Carly brushed his arm. “We’re talking about music from before your time. Why don’t you go set up in the kitchen.”
“Hey, Tessa. Cool security system.” He nodded at me and carried the bags into the kitchen, where Savannah cooed at him.
“I thought this was going to be a trial run, not a Hollywood production.” I held out my hand for Carly’s coat, a buttery-soft buff cashmere.
“You know Andrew. He’s…thorough.” Her cheeks went pink.
“Ew. It’s way too early for sexual innuendos.” I stuck my face in the hall closet while I hung up the coats.
“Girl,” Lucie said, “you’re clearly not getting the right kind of sex if you think it’s ever too early. Am I right?”
When I turned, Lucie nudged Carly with her elbow. I groaned. “Spare me the sexually satisfied commentary. I hope you both get cock-blocked at family Christmas gatherings.”
“Ooh.” Lucie’s eyes flared. “Someone’s jealous. How long’s it been, Tessa?”
“Not that long,” I lied. Even my favorite suction vibrator had failed me last night when a shaggy head of hair had popped into my brain. It had killed my libido since I obviously did not want my clit sucked by my frustrating coworker.
She twitched her lips to the side, then strode into the kitchen.
“Don’t mind her,” Carly said. “She’s not getting enough sleep these days. Danny’s helping with everything he can, but she’s nursing, so the middle-of-the-night feedings are on her.”
“Sounds like a nightmare,” I said.
“But worth it,” my childless friend said. “For her.”
“I guess.” I peered out the sidelight next to the door. “You didn’t see Bridget out there, did you?”
“No.” Carly frowned. “You think she got stuck in your security protocols?”
“She knows how to get in.” She was one of the few who did since she’d ignored my pleas to be left alone after the Red Rover disaster.
“Then I’m sure she’ll be here soon.” Carly hitched up her enormous bag. “I’d better get started on Savannah’s makeup.”
Forty-five minutes later, Bridget hadn’t arrived, and Savannah was unrecognizable.
“Is my hair supposed to be this crunchy?” Savannah asked. “I haven’t worn this much Aqua Net since the ’80s.”
“You look fantastic.” Carly held up a hand mirror. “I wanted to keep it consistent throughout the shoot. Don’t you like it?”
“It’s beautiful.” Her blue eyes looked huge, shaded by mile-long false eyelashes, and her skin sparkled like one of those teenage vampires in the movies. She touched the side of her bob, then flapped her hand away like it had burned her. She puckered her lips like a fish.
“You like the lipstick?” Carly asked. “It’s a new long-staying formula with a bit of gloss. The camera’s going to love it.”
Savannah’s smile looked like her face was about to crack. “It looks great. It’s just a little sticky.”
“Can’t she wash all that off?” I asked. “She should look like herself when she’s cooking.”
“She’s working under lights,” Carly argued. “The makeup will hide any flushing and sweating. But if you don’t like it…”
“No, no, I love it,” Savannah said. She shot me a glance that I understood to mean, Stop causing trouble.
I couldn’t deny Savannah the peace she struggled to maintain in our friend group, so I stayed silent. Fortunately, a buzz in my pocket distracted me. It was the doorbell, and Bridget’s face appeared on the screen. I tapped the button to open the gate.
“Ready, Savannah?” Andrew asked from behind the camera tripod.
“I guess. What do I do?”
“Be yourself,” he said. “Start cooking and tell me what you’re doing as you go. What are you making first?”
“Um. Okay. I’m going to start with an appetizer. Um, baked cheese crackers.”
I slipped out of the kitchen and went to the door. I opened it as Bridget slammed the door of her Jaguar and stomped across the motor court in a pair of towering heels that raised her to average height.
I shut the door behind me. “What’s wrong?”
“Fucking Cole fucking Campion is what’s wrong.” She stuck her fists on her navy sheath dress where it flared at her hips.
“Who?”
“Remember, I told you our CFO retired? Cole replaced him.”
I winced. “I hoped they’d give you the finance department.”
Her lips tightened. “Me too. But they made an outside hire. Young guy, in his thirties. When I took him to lunch, he seemed nice enough—at first. And smart enough that I thought he’d keep quiet for a while. Watch and learn.”
“No?”
“He ripped my proposed budget to shreds. In front of the CEO.”
“What a dick.”
“Right? But”—she shimmied her head and shoulders—“I shook it off. My team and I will take another run at the budget. We’ll present one that’s perfect next time. And I’ll be prepared to defend it.”
“You’re a rock star.” How many times had she told me the same thing? “Remember that. Eyes on the prize.”
“I know. I’ll be the company’s first female CEO.” Her delicate jaw hardened.
She’d busted her ass in college. She’d wanted to be a CEO even then. If anyone deserved it, Bridget did. I held her gaze. “You will.”
Her eyes went glossy, and she blinked. “Dammit. I’m a hard-ass executive. Don’t make me cry.”
“Ew. Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She chuckled, then sniffed. “Something smells…not great.”
I sniffed. It smelled like the time I’d lit a candle Carly had given me, and Anita wouldn’t stop trying to smother the flame with her paw. “Burned hair?”
I led the way to the kitchen, where Carly was patting down the side of Savannah’s head with a kitchen towel. Her blond hair frizzed up along one side.
“I’m so sorry,” Carly said. “I never cook?—”
“It’s true,” Andrew interjected as he loosened the camera from the tripod.
She glared at him. “I didn’t realize how flammable the hairspray was. Are you okay?”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Savannah said.
“Yeah, no,” Lucie said through a bite of the apple she’d taken from the fruit bowl. “It’s definitely not fine.”
“Not helpful,” Carly growled. “I’ll run home for my hair cutting kit, and we’ll trim it.”
“Trim?” Savannah ran her hand along her hair and winced when her fingers met the crispy part.
“It’ll look great. I promise. And if not, I know the best wig shop.”
Savannah’s mouth dropped open. “Wig?”
“Don’t worry, it won’t come to that,” Carly said.
“This is why we have rules about pulling hair back in the lab.” My friends’ heads all turned toward me, and I froze when I realized the words had come out of my mouth. “I, um—sorry.”
“I thought you hated those ridiculous rules,” Bridget said.
“I…I…” But I couldn’t say, I do. “They make sense, considering what’s happened here.”
Andrew smirked. “I’m totally telling Oliver.”
“You do and you’ll never play my collector’s edition of War of the Ring again.” I folded my arms.
He set down the tripod he’d been folding up. “You wouldn’t.”
“I’m dead serious,” I said.
“This isn’t about the silly lab rules,” Lucie said. “I think you like this guy. Is something going on?”
“Absolutely not.” I glared first at her, then at Andrew. “We’re coworkers. We don’t even like each other.”
Andrew snorted but said nothing.
“Said every heroine in any Hallmark movie ever.” Lucie always had something to say.
“This is real life,” I said. “I’ve been there, done that, got tricked into selling my company by someone I cared about. Never. Again.”
Lucie looked like she wanted to poke at my past again, but Savannah, always the peacemaker, said, “We believe you, hon.”
Thankful for the reminder that today wasn’t about me, I said, “Andrew, why don’t you go get Carly’s kit, and Carly can show Savannah some pixie cuts.”
Savannah wailed, and everyone seemed to forget what Lucie had said about Oliver and me.
Everyone except me.
T he next day, Sunday, Savannah’s sigh made me look up from my laptop. In my living room, she sat across the coffee table from me in one of the club chairs and tugged at her hair for the fiftieth time like that would make it grow out.
Carly had to trim a lot to remove the parts that had ignited when Savannah slid her tray of crackers into the oven. And then a lot more to shape it. It wasn’t quite a pixie cut, but it was clearly the shortest hairstyle Savannah’d ever had.
“Stop,” I said. “Your hair looks great.”
“No, it doesn’t. Carly did the best she could, but it looks weird with my body.” She gestured down at herself, encompassing Kat, who was curled up on her lap.
“You’re beautiful. I hate that you don’t see it.”
She pursed her lips. “Jason never thought so. Not after I had Colby and the weight never came off.”
Something sharp caught in my chest, and I wanted to commit murder. “You’re beautiful, and Jason’s a tool.”
“Thank you.” Her lips wobbled. “You’re the best. All of you are.”
“Have you thought about what Bridget said yesterday?”
“You mean when she said video wasn’t my calling? Yeah, I think that’s obvious.”
“The part about corporate catering.”
She scratched behind Kat’s ear, and I could hear the cat’s purr from ten feet away. “I do like cooking for crowds. But I wouldn’t know how to start.”
“Start with something like a selection of muffins and breakfast pastries. You’re great at baking. Then move up to lunch. Keep it simple. Salads and sandwiches are mostly what we eat at work anyway. Bridget said she’d hire you. And I will too. You can do all of it in my kitchen, and when you’re ready to expand, I’ll loan you whatever you need to get set up.”
Tears pooled in her blue eyes. “You really think I can do it?”
“You can, and you’re not alone. Bridget and I have contacts. Plus, we can help you draw up a budget. Andrew has a sister who can help you with marketing and social media. That’s enough to start.”
Her lips quivered when she smiled. “Y’all are the best.”
“So are you. Are there any of those lemon cookies left over from yesterday?”
“I think so. I’ll make some tea too.”
“Where’d you find tea in my kitchen?”
“I went to the grocery store, silly. I shopped for a week’s worth of healthy meals. All you had were those depressing freezer meals.”
I liked how she always found her confidence when talking about food. I pressed further. “Depressing? I paid a lot of money to a specialist to tailor them to my body’s nutritional needs. I like those freezer meals.”
She scrunched her nose. “No. You like the convenience, but they taste like chemicals and sadness.”
“Chemicals, maybe. But not sadness. Independence.” I sat up on the couch.
“Whatever. With a little thought and preparation, I can make delicious food from fresh ingredients that can be served almost as quickly as those plastic-tray atrocities.”
“You sound like an infomercial. Save it for marketing your catering business.”
“You’ll see that I can back up my claims better than Billy Mays. I’m making a delicious pot of chicken noodle soup for lunch.” She smiled, smug. “I’ll freeze some for the next time you’re feeling bad, and it’ll be as convenient as your freezer meals but better because it’s made with love.”
“That should be the name of your business.”
She scrunched her nose. “Chicken Noodle Soup?”
“Made with Love.”
“You’re right! You know, I bet Colby could design a logo for me. I’ll get it printed on an apron.” She grinned. “I’ll text him while I make tea.” Carefully, she lifted Kat from her lap, then set her back on the chair. Her light-pink leggings were coated with black cat hair. “Be right back.” When she walked back to the kitchen, Kat leaped off the chair and trotted behind her.
“Don’t listen to Kat’s lies,” I called after her. “She can’t have human cookies. Her treats are in the?—”
“The canister on the counter. I know.” She winked at me. “Why do you think she’s following me?”
“Okay. I want two of those lemon cookies, please.” Normally, I didn’t care about desserts. We never had them around the house—the sugar conspiracy was one of Dad’s favorites—and I’d never developed a taste for them. But Savannah’s baked goods weren’t saccharine like grocery-store cookies. They were light and crunchy with a hint of sweetness and tasted like the food angels would serve in heaven.
My laptop chimed, and I glanced at the screen. A security alert. My friends knew not to drop by unexpectedly. When people ignored the No Soliciting sign, my automated security system usually handled it. This one must be persistent if they’d triggered an alert. Tingles swept through me as I checked the camera.
My heart rocketed into my throat. “My god!” I jerked my hands off the keyboard like not touching the laptop could make it not true. Like I could hide from him .
“What’s wrong?” Savannah walked in with a plate of cookies.
“Nothing,” I lied. Revealing the secrets of my home to my friend was one thing. Exposing her to my past was something I wasn’t ready to do. Maybe, if I ignored him long enough?—
“Tessa!” came his tinny voice from my laptop’s speaker. “Let me in.”
Shit. I glanced back at the screen. His red hair had more white in it since last year. Its pink tint matched his ruddy, weathered skin.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“Goddamned election canvassers.”
She propped her hands on her hips. “The election’s been over for six weeks.”
“Christmas carolers?”
“He knows your name. No one should be able to get past your security. I can barely figure out how to get back in after a grocery run.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. Couldn’t he have called first?
Of course not. He used only burner phones, and I never answered unknown callers.
“Gerty Theresa Wright,” the tinny voice erupted from my laptop. “Let me in or I’ll camp right here in your driveway.”
My god. His truck. How had I forgotten? Wincing, I pressed the key that opened the hidden gate.
“Your actual name is Gerty?” my friend asked. “How did I not know this?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I admitted. “My parents named me after a Nobel Prize–winning biochemist.” I closed my laptop and set it on the table, then wedged myself out from between Anita and Hedy. “Better hide, girls,” I murmured. Anita raced up the stairs. Hedy, ever stubborn, tucked herself into a loaf shape.
“What should I do?” Savannah asked. “Call the police?”
“No. It’s fine. Well, it’s not fine. But I’ll deal with it. I recommend you hide like Anita’s doing. Otherwise, you can meet…” I trudged to the back door, the one that opened to the parking area, unbolted it, and flung it wide. “My father.”
He leaned on the side of his ancient Ford F-150 with the tonneau cover. The truck was painted in a camouflage pattern, not the fancy design you got at one of those custom paint shops, but the sloppy kind you did yourself with slashes in a few shades of Rust-Oleum, bought with cash (obviously) at the local hardware store, the one without security cameras.
“You know they’re monitoring your security system.” His voice was as rusty as his truck, like he hadn’t used it for a while.
“They’re really not,” I said. “Hi, Dad. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I always visit you on the solstice,” he grumbled.
He didn’t always . He hadn’t for the past couple years. Still, something warmed in my chest at the thought of him driving all the way from his remote camp, wherever it was, to see me.
“Where are you staying these days?” I asked.
He ducked his head. “Does it matter? I’m not going back.”
I didn’t dare ask where he’d go next.
“Hi,” Savannah chirped, stepping around me to extend her hand. “I’m Tessa’s friend Savannah.”
He blinked.
I let out a long exhale. “Savannah, this is my dad, Barry Wright.”
She pumped his hand. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Wright. Tessa’s told me nothing about you.”
“Good,” he said, extricating his hand from her grip. “Probably better to forget you ever met me.”
Closing my eyes to block out Savannah’s wide eyes and open mouth, I breathed in for a count of four, then breathed out for a count of six. I let the hardness of the pavers under my slippers ground me. I opened my eyes. “You’re not planning any activities while you’re here, are you, Dad?”
“You know better than to ask that. Plausible deniability.”
Pain stabbed through my abdomen, and I knew it wasn’t from stray uterine tissue growing in my abdomen. “Dad, please don’t?—”
“Where can I park my truck?” He scanned the overcast sky. “I don’t want it to get picked up by some drone.”
“In the garage.” I gestured toward it. “Or under that sycamore tree.”
“Not enough leaves to cover. There’s a live oak down the drive. I’ll put it under there.”
“I’ll make us a snack,” Savannah said, “while you’re getting settled into your room.”
I winced. “He won’t be staying in the house.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Of course he will. You have, like, six guest rooms.”
“She also has fluoridated water,” Dad said.
At Savannah’s puzzled expression, I shook my head. “He prefers to sleep in his truck.”
He patted its camouflaged side. “I carry fifty gallons of rainwater with zero mind-controlling chemicals. I keep telling her to install a cistern, but here in the city, they’d probably pollute it with their chemtrails.”
“Chemtrails?” Savannah asked.
“Don’t ask,” I said. “Dad, when you’ve parked, you should come inside for some of Savannah’s cookies and tea. Don’t worry, I’ve got bottled water.”
“Bottled water?” he scoffed. “Worse than city water. Government controls that too.”
“Fine, you can skip the tea.” As he turned back to his truck, I said, “By the way, how long do you plan to stay?”
“Through next Sunday,” he said. From the firm set of his jaw, I could tell he was holding something back, but I knew better than to ask.