by Nicole Falls
Isobel came back to our station frowning severely and flung the feather onto our station without a single word to me. I picked up the feather and immediately groaned. We’d been given the champagne cocktail. I was hoping we’d gotten the hot toddy or hell even mulled wine. I had tons of ideas for every holiday drink I could think of, but champagne wasn’t even on my radar.
“You got anything?” Isobel asked, a slight note of hopefulness in her tone, probably the most courteous she’d been toward me since we’d reconnected.
Unfortunately, that goodwill was short lived as I gave her an answer in the negative. I’d hoped, however, once we saw the sparkling beverage choices that we would happen upon an idea. Walking over to the wall where the alcohol was housed, I noticed that we had a choice between regular brut champagne, a pinot noir sparkling rose, and an almond sparkling wine. As soon as both of our eyes lit upon that sparkling almond wine, we turned to one another and said in unison, “Macarons!”
“Almond isn’t really that much of a holiday flavor, though,” Isobel murmured more to herself than me.
“But paired with cherry, we’re not only giving some semblance of holiday flavor, but also the holiday colors we need on the plate to jazz things up a bit. How about we do a cherry almond macaron filled with a sparkling almond wine infused pastry cream,” I suggested.
“That seems kind of plain, doesn’t it? I mean is that a fifty thou…hell, a hundred thousand dollar dessert? Let’s take it up a notch, I think you’re starting in the right place, but in the middle of the pastry cream, we can also add a dollop of a tart cherry jam. That way along with the explosion of flavor from the sparkling wine being infused into the pastry cream, the judges get a lil somethin’ somethin’ extra.”
“Not too bad, Knight. I knew we kept you around for more than your good looks. Aight…since you accused me of wimping out on the pre-heat, you want me to make the macaron shells while you make the cream and the jam?”
“Do you even know how to make macarons?”
“Is a pig’s pussy pork?”
“You couldn’t have just said yes, huh, Coleman?” Isobel said, rolling her eyes and leaving me behind at the liquor wall to gather the ingredients for her portion of the dessert.
I chuckled before jogging across the kitchen to gather everything I needed to make the macaron shells. We had two hours to complete our task and had wasted precious minutes trying to come up with a game plan so I had to make my macaron shells quickly since they’d need at least half an hour to set before I could throw them in the ovens. Just as I was sifting the almond meal and confectioner’s sugar together, Thad came over with a camera in tow.
“Clutch, my man,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder, “What you got going on over here? A lil trip to France with the macaron?”
“Yeah, man, we decided to take the holidays a little international with our own unique twist on a macaron, using that sparkling almond wine. After all, you gave us champagne, which has origins in France so why not go all in, tu sais ce que je veux dire1?” I chuckled.
“Aw snap, you done hit us with the voulez vous…aight, playa I’ma let you get back to it,” Thad said, walking away to annoy someone else I’m sure.
“I…didn’t know you spoke French,” Isobel mused quietly as she whisked the pastry cream.
“There’s a lot more than that you don’t know about me, sweetheart,” I said with a wink and my signature grin.
“Et même plus que tu ne sais pas de moi2,” Isobel shot back with a grin of her own.
“Touché, Isobel,” I drawled in a horrible French accent, which made Isobel giggle slightly before she caught herself and mugged me while rolling her eyes.
“Aight, Pepe Le Peu, just make sure you get those shells sur le point3, so we’re not saying au revoir4 at the end of the night.”
“Tout ce que vous dites ma chérie.5” I replied, which earned me another eye roll.
1 You know what I mean?
2 And even more that you do not know about me.
3 On point
4 goodbye
5 Whatever you say, darling.
-5-
“That,” I said, pointing across the room where Tesha and Deandre were all over each other making out, “has got to be some sort of violation or breaking of some rules in that thick ass contract they made us sign, right?”
“Girl…they got me missing my honey with the way it’s getting moving from PG straight to X rated,” Billie remarked as we watched Dre grab a handful of Tesh’s ass as she writhed in his lap.
“I feel like we should be paying for this,” I muttered.
“Girl, not when the internet is full of free porn. Live and let live, boo!” Billie cracked.
We were more than halfway through filming, with just four teams left in the competition—Travis and me, Billie and her brother Trane, Sergio and Ana, and the team that everyone was ready to go—Jacob and Marsei. Marsei was a former beauty pageant queen, and Jacob too was a queen, though his wins were in a different sort of ballroom than Marsei’s were. The two dough queenz, as they called themselves, were insufferably cocky, but unfortunately had the pastry skills to back up that extreme confidence. Tomorrow we would be filming the penultimate episode of Bake Off, and I wasn’t any less nervous than I was when we first began. Surprisingly, despite still barely being able to stand one another—Travis and I had won quite a few challenges, putting a target on our backs as the ones to beat. There were a couple of times in the beginning that we came close to the bottom, but there was always someone worse than us to get the axe instead.
What was supposed to be a quick stepping out for a cocktail or two turned into…whatever the hell we were experiencing now. Billie had asked me to go down to the lobby in our hotel for dinner and a drink, but that quickly morphed into Traine and Travis renting a party bus to take us on a bar crawl. I was over it after the second stop, but Billie insisted that I loosen up and live a little. I gave into the slight peer pressure when I would have been perfectly fine to be tucked into my jammies, snuggled up reading the new Alexandra Warren A Tale of Two Cities novella that dropped while we were away taping this. I’d had way less downtime than I imagined, so my little kindle app was just filling up with releases I had one-clicked while I was away.
“Drink this,” Travis said, plopping down on a barstool next to me and shoving a dubious looking shot my way.
“No thank you,” I said, shaking my head and sliding the shot glass back in his direction.
“Oh, see I thought that you looked a little parched staring at my cousin, and her man tryna make love in this club, so I figured you could use a little something to loosen you up and quench your thirst,” Travis slurred.
“I’m good, love, enjoy,” I sniped back, with a quick pat to his shoulder before attempting to get up and walk away until I heard him say something about being amazed that I could move as well as I did with the stick that was permanently lodged up my ass.
Something about that lit a fire under me that made me turn back in his direction, grab the shot glass and toss it all back in one gulp. I grimaced at the overly sweet concoction that he’d had the bartender put together.
“What was that trash? I don’t do training wheels shots,” I signaled to the bartender, “Can I get two shots of Don Julio chilled with Rose’s lime, sweetie? Thanks!”
“I don’t drink tequila,” Travis said.
“Well it’s a good thing that I didn’t order for you, isn’t it?” I replied, quickly downing both of the shots when the bartender brought them back over.
When I slid my card across the counter to pay, she informed me that our tab had been being covered already. She pointed at Travis, “He said everything that you touched is on him tonight?”
“Ugh, please take my card, the last thing I need is to be even more indebted to him,” I said to the shrugging bartender who ran my card and kept it open once I decided to open a tab.
Travis was right about one thing, Billie too…I needed to let my ha
ir down and live a little while I had the opportunity to. After my third round of tequila, the DJ switched from one who was playing nightmarish EDM to one with a decidedly more urban slant. The first song of the new DJ’s set was Cardi B’s new single “Money”. I turned to Billie to get her to come and dance with me, but it looked like she made good on skipping off to get into some naughty FaceTime action with her husband. I stayed perched on the stool, grooving discreetly until I heard the beginning notes of “Big Bank” by YG. Something about that song always made my inner ratchet come blasting out to the surface, but I’d never found myself out in public when it came on. But the minute I heard 2Chainz start off the second verse, I hopped off that bar stool and forgot who I was or trying to maintain an image.
Rapping along with every word of 2Chainz and Big Sean’s verses, I really hit my stride so when Nicki’s “Uh oh” reverberated through the area. You would have thought I was auditioning for “Lip Sync Battle” with the ferocity that I performed, eventually causing the crowd to part and give me space as I moved around rapping a bevy of trap hits by everyone from the Migos to Travis Scott to Megan Thee Stallion to Kashdoll. When the DJ finally slowed the tempo a bit, I didn’t miss a beat, and neither did the man who’d stepped up behind me halfway through my rap performance. “Dangerous” by Meek Mill floated through the air, and he took advantage of the groove that had me rolling my hips as I sang along with Jeremih. We danced to a few songs before I headed away from the dance floor to get some water and take a little break to find my crew. The only person in sight was Travis who was eyeballing me as if I’d somehow offended him.
“What? I didn’t get loose enough for you?”
“Was that little show for me?” Travis asked.
“What? Nah, man…you wish! I was enjoying myself for once, not giving a damn about anyone else’s enjoyment. But apparently me somehow metaphorically letting my hair down somehow has offended your delicate sensibilities,” I said, stepping so that we were nose to nose, “Damn, can I do anything right in your eyes, Coleman? You’re a hard man to impress.”
“So that was you trying to impress me?” he smirked.
“Again, you wish,” I said, putting some space between us and signaling for the bartender to bring me another water.
“Maybe so,” Travis mumbled, I’m certain not for my ears to hear so I just ignored it, instead choosing to gulp down my water like I’d just stumbled upon an oasis in the desert.
I was just about to ask Travis where everyone else had disappeared to when the guy from the dance floor came up and snaked an arm around my waist, sandwiching me between the hard edge of the bar top and his… “Ew!” I said, shoving him away.
“Aw, what’s wrong lil mama? You don’t think you can handle all of this?” he said, gripping his weak erection through his pants.
“I think she’s good, bruh,” Travis spoke up, placing a bit of space between me and old dude by stepping in front of me and sliding me behind him with one hand and pushing the guy back with the other.
“Ay, you can make your point without putting your hands on me, bruh,” the guy responded to Travis, shoving him with clearly demonstrated force, but not moving Travis an inch.
“You done?” Travis asked in a bored tone.
“Man, that stiff bitch ain’t even worth all of this,” dude huffed, stomping away.
“Stiff?!” I cried, trying to get around Travis to get at dude.
There were two things in life that I refused to let anyone insult me about because I’d worked too hard on both for anyone to find a single flaw with them—my baking and my twerking. Calling me stiff was akin to telling me my cakes were dry, both were fighting words. Never mind that dude was a smooth hundred pounds heavier than me and a good foot taller, I was ready to get at him.
“Really, Knight? You’re not upset with him calling you out of your name as much as you’re pissed about him calling you stiff?” Travis said, shaking his head, “C’mon, man. Let’s find everyone and get you outta here before you set it off, killa.”
“I mean, honestly, does this feel stiff to you?” I asked as I twerked my ass right up against Travis, isolating the movements of my ass cheeks in time to LightSkinKeisha’s song “Ride Good” that was currently playing.
As if he were powerless to control it, his hands lowered to my waist, pulling me closer to him as I ground more insistently against the quickly rising hardness in his pants.
“Well well well, who knew LightSkinKeisha was the great equalizer? Look at this shit here!” Traine yelled as he, Billie, and Tesha approached where I’d had Travis hemmed up against the bar.
“Don’t hurt him too much, sis,” Billie yelled alongside her brother, the both of them promptly breaking up whatever the hell vibe was building between Travis and me.
I straightened up to explain myself, but none of them were hearing it, all cracking jokes about maybe taking an Uber XL with the three of them so Travis and I could have the party bus to ourselves and make good use of the stripper pole that was in it. Suitably embarrassed, I quickly excused myself to the restroom to splash some water on my face and try to sober up a bit as my mind raced overtime about whatever the hell this energy shift that was happening between Travis and me tonight meant. I wanted to just blame it on the alcohol and move along. I was sure that we would be back to business as usual in the light of day and I would barely be able to tolerate his ass.
When I returned back to the group, they had moved on from grilling Travis about us and were going in on Tesha and Dre who had mysteriously disappeared. As we walked back to and got on the party bus, Tesha was being coy as if we all hadn’t seen the two of them all over each other, damn near doing each other out in the open, so it was no mystery that they’d likely made good on those promises that their fully clothed hunching had made when they dipped off for a little bit of privacy. Trying to get the heat off of her, Tesha shifted the interrogation onto Billie who apparently took the show and tell a little too literally on her FaceTime call with her husband.
“In the public restroom, girl?” I asked, laughing.
“Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do sometimes, okay? By the grace of God and my Lysol wipes, hopefully, I ain’t caught nothing, but whew, I cannot wait to get back home, okay? Amen.”
“Ugh, Willy, please. Did you forget your brother is here?” Traine groaned.
“Did you forget your sister is a grown ass woman who is used to getting piped twice daily by her husband and this is the first time they’ve been apart for an extended period of time?” Billie shot back.
“Too far, Bill. Way too far,” Travis muttered, a hand thrown over his eyes, shielding them from the light show that was going on in the back of the party bus, “Yo can we kill the light show, that shit’s giving me a headache.”
“Yes sir, your highness,” Tesh chirped, grasping for the remote to change the lights to a dim glow instead of the frenetic pace that they’d been racing around the perimeter of the ride, “Anything else, my liege?”
The rest of us were rolling laughing at her obvious mocking tone, but Travis just scowled in her general direction since he couldn’t be bothered to sit up and take the hand from over his eyes. Ah, there it was, the return of that self-important, entitled buffoon that I’d grown to despise. Despite him stepping up and checking dude tonight and kind of defending my honor, I had to remember who he was at his core. Definitely nobody I needed to be thinking about in any way beyond partnership on Bake Off, keeping my eyes on the prize and staying focused to bring this money home to Gam and Whisk. We pulled up to the hotel in a manner of minutes, and I guess Travis and Traine’s bar hopping plan had us ending up closer to the hotel than I had even realized. Suppose there was a method to their madness after all.
Somehow over the course of that short ride, however, I went from being faded, but good to being faded and lusty. It didn’t help that despite being annoying as hell, Travis had the unmitigated gall to be even finer than usual tonight. The simple, black t-shirt he
wrote stretched across the broad mass of his shoulders as if it were perfectly tailored to fit to envelop his biceps. His bald head was shining like a beacon, signaling the perfect place for me to wrap my thighs around and ride to ecstasy. And he was wearing skinny jeans…no man should look good in skinny jeans, but he managed to find the one pair that accentuated his buns and his print, simultaneously, probably not giving either its just due. I shook my head to rid myself of these lusty thoughts as we pulled back up to the hotel. Travis was the very last person I needed to be thinking about in this way. On my way out of the party bus, I missed the last step and nearly busted my shit if it weren’t for the quick reflexes of Travis catching me.
“I’m fine,” I slurred, trying to shrug my way out the loose embrace he still held in me after he’d helped me stay upright.
“Nah, she doesn’t sound fine to me,” Billie chirped, “Travis, make sure she makes it upstairs safely.”
Pairing those words with a wink, Billie and her brother fell all over themselves laughing.
“I don’t remember y’all being this annoying, I swear,” Travis grunted, before doing exactly what they said and attempting to escort me toward the elevator and up to my room.
“You don’t have to come with me, I said I’m fine,” I protested weakly as I braced myself against the wall, the sudden ascent of the elevator jarring me.
“You’re barely upright, Knight. Hell, you didn’t even press a button when you stepped onto the elevator, so who knows how long you woulda just been sitting here waiting for it to move if I weren’t here.”
“You,” I said, using my index finger to poke him squarely in the chest, “think you know everything. You don’t know nothin’ about me and what I would do.”
“I do know that I wish you’d use that damned smart mouth of yours for good instead of evil more often than you actually choose to,” Travis quickly shot back.