Sweetest Thing

by Natasha West

  Billy laughed in spite of himself. ‘You’re proving my point, you know that?’

  ‘That I can’t have a real conversation?’ Jodie said, trying not to betray how irritating this was starting to become. Her brother thought he knew everything because he’d fallen into something as a tween, and it was still going. But it didn’t give him the right to give his older sister smug advice. ‘I can talk if I want to.’

  ‘You can, Jode. You just don’t,’ he said.

  Jodie was officially brim-full of Billy’s self-righteous crap. ‘Anyway, I’m tired, it’s late. I’m going to bed.’

  ‘No late-night visitors?’ Billy asked.

  ‘No, she’s already been and gone,’ Jodie explained.

  ‘What? Is she… Is she a contestant on the show?’

  ‘Oh. Yeah.’

  ‘So, you’re up against each other. So to speak.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘She any good?’

  Jodie thought about it. ‘Yeah. I reckon she’ll go to the final.’

  ‘With you?’

  ‘Nope, I won’t last much longer. I’m not cut out for TV, it seems.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I can’t play nice with the other contestants, and I won’t tell the cameras my big sob story.’

  ‘Your sob story? You mean about Dad?’

  ‘That’s the one,’ Jodie said shortly. They didn’t talk much about this subject. When things got tricky, she went into the kitchen and got her dad’s recipe book out, finding that an easy balm on all wounds. Feelings were for chumps who didn’t know how to fend them off successfully. If there was one thing Jodie could say for herself, it was that she wasn’t, and never had been, a chump.

  Not usually.

  ‘Well, night,’ Jodie said.

  ‘Luck for the morning,’ Billy said. ‘Not that you need it.’

  ‘I might, as a matter of fact,’ Jodie said honestly. She wasn’t just talking about pies. She needed to stop this thing with Robyn in its tracks. For starters, sex was off the menu. It had started this whole thing rolling. So no more. Which was a real shame. Because Robyn wasn’t really in her top ten lays. Nor her top five. She was the best Jodie had ever had. She didn’t know what that meant. She hoped it didn’t mean anything at all.

  As Jodie tried to fall asleep after she’d hung up with her brother, her mind turned in a certain direction, the past. She found herself googling a name. Mara Jacobs. She was on Facebook, the shameless bitch. If Jodie had been her, she’d have gone into hiding for the rest of her life. But no, her mother was brazenly continuing her life where anyone could see, including her former children. She was remarried, no more kids that Jodie could see. That was probably for the best, Jodie thought. That woman didn’t know how to care about anyone but herself. It ran in the family.

  ***

  Jodie was looking at a crap pie. The type of pie they wanted was cream, in whatever iteration you pleased. She’d hated every flavour on the table and settled on egg custard. It wasn’t a pie she liked, nor Billy, so she’d only made it twice. Once with her father and once after he was gone, just to be sure they really disliked it as much as they thought they did.

  But it was the only cream pie she even vaguely knew how to make, so she’d taken a crack at it and it, had come out soggy. Whatever good work she’d done yesterday was completely cancelled out. She could go out today. Easily.

  Everyone else was having various degrees of success. Susan was working to save a banana cream, struggling with a cracked base. Dorothy had put together a pretty decent lemon meringue, at least at a glance. Reuben had made a pumpkin pie that looked alright at first, but when you inspected a bit closer had a green tint to it that hinted at deep problems.

  But Robyn? She’d made a key lime that looked fucking delicious. The crust was on point. Jodie couldn’t believe it. She’d taken Jodie’s tip and used it to nail her pie. Jodie shook her head at herself. This was what came of pillow talk. First, she’d screwed Robyn. Then, she’d screwed herself.

  ***

  ‘Robyn!’ Madeline called with delight. Robyn’s hands flew to her mouth in shock. ‘What? No!’

  ‘Yep. You did it, top baker! The judges were impressed with how you turned this weekend around,’ Madeline congratulated her. Jodie smiled in spite of herself. She’d come to the conclusion that if she was going out today, it wasn’t actually Robyn’s fault. Nor the mysterious saboteur, if they existed. It was her own fault. She’d made a shitty pie, and that was that. She had to make peace with going out at day’s end.

  Which meant that someone had to do well. She supposed she was glad that person was Robyn. It would make her happy. Jodie wanted to resent that. But she didn’t.

  ‘And now comes the hard part,’ Madeline said with feigned sadness. ‘The person leaving the competition today is… Reuben.’

  ‘What?’ Reuben screeched, shocked.

  Everyone gathered around him, trying to hug him. But he was stiff as a board. Jodie stood apart from the awkward group hug. She was in her own shock, amazed to still be in.

  She’d made it past week five. Which meant she was in week six. Which was two from the final. Was it possible she could make it that far? She’d never really considered the possibility. Sure, she could bake as well as any of them. But there had seemed so many obstacles to her getting to the end, she’d never thought it possible.

  But now she wondered.

  As she watched Robyn nervously patting an extremely angry Reuben like a dog that might bite, she wondered what another weekend would hold for them. It couldn’t hold sex, not ever again. She was cancelling that. Far too dangerous. Look at what it had done already. It had made Jodie break a rule and help her foe out of some sort of developing warmth. She couldn’t have that.

  ***

  Another cab ride. It was spent in awkward silence right up until they were a minute away from the train station. That was when Jodie dropped the mic. ‘I don’t think we should have sex again.’

  Robyn’s head whipped around. ‘Oh… Yeah, alright.’

  ‘It’s not… I’ve had fun but… We’re…’ Jodie nearly said something crazy, but at the last second was able to switch tracks. ‘…Going into week six. I don’t think either of us needs the distraction.’

  Robyn nodded. ‘Yep, you’re right. Right, right, right. Absolutely. We’re getting towards the end. We should focus. Yeah.’

  ‘Cool,’ Jodie said as the cab pulled up.

  ‘Yep.’

  Twenty-Five

  Week Six – Cakes

  At last, cakes. Robyn knew her way around a cake. No doubt so did the other contestants. Dorothy, Susan, and the other one. The one Robyn was going to great pains not to think about.

  She thought there was a solid chance she wouldn’t make it through. The competition was getting stiff now. But she was going to make the most difficult thing she knew how to make. Chocolate soufflé cake. It didn’t go right every time. But when it did… It was a risky endeavour. But if Robyn was going out this week, she was going out all guns blazing.

  ‘Good luck, today,’ said a voice, and Robyn turned to it. There she was, Jodie. She’d crept in without Robyn noticing. She looked good, Robyn couldn’t help but notice, easy confidence in a five-foot package. As delicious as one of her cakes. Hard not to picture her as she’d seen her last weekend. Gloriously naked, moisture on her skin, a moan on her lips…

  No, she thought. Stop that. She said that’s over. So it is.

  ‘Good luck to you today too,’ Robyn said blandly. ‘What are you making today?

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ Jodie asked, her mouth going up at one corner.

  ‘Yes. That’s why I asked,’ Robyn shot back.

  ‘Alright, I’ll tell you. You can’t exactly steal the recipe in the next five minutes, can you?’

  ‘What makes you think I need to?’ Robyn asked, enjoying the back and forth. This was classic Robyn and Jodie, and it felt nice to get back to basics.

 
‘Maybe you don’t,’ Jodie said, leaning over to inspect Robyn’s workspace. ‘Or maybe you do. A chocolate cake? That’s it?’

  ‘A chocolate soufflé cake,’ Robyn told her.

  ‘I take it back,’ Jodie said with respect. ‘Fucker to make.’

  ‘That’s why I’m making it. So come on, what are you doing?’

  ‘Mirror glaze mousse cake,’ Jodie said.

  Robyn’s eyes bulged. ‘Also a fucker to make, as you put it.’

  ‘Let’s hope we both don’t screw the pooch today then.’

  ‘Let’s.’ She glanced over her shoulder and whispered, ‘Susan’s doing a gold sequin cake. It’s got real gold in it.’

  ‘That sounds… It’ll look good, but it’ll probably taste like shit,’ Jodie muttered.

  ‘That was my thinking too.’

  ‘What’s Dorothy doing?’

  ‘Gateau.’

  ‘Bit eighties.’

  ‘I think she’s probably updated it.’

  ‘Right. She’s no dummy. But I’ve got my eye on you,’ Jodie told her.

  Robyn’s right eye twitched. ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yep. I reckon you’re the one to beat,’ Jodie smirked.

  ‘Just not on the arse, right?’ Robyn said without thinking.

  Jodie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Robyn said, giggling a shade hysterically. ‘I don’t know why I said that.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Jodie said, her composure reassembled. ‘It’ll take more than that to break my stride today.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure,’ Robyn chuckled. ‘I’d probably have to strip down to my birthday suit to even get your eyes off your cake for a second, wouldn’t I?’

  Jodie let out a shocked laugh. ‘Jesus, Robyn. You’re really trying to fuck me up today.’

  Robyn wasn’t at all. She could never have an impact on Jodie’s performance and wouldn’t try. She didn’t know why she was saying these outrageous things. They were just falling out of her mouth.

  She wondered if this was happening because she’d spent all week trying not to think about Jodie. Confronted with the woman herself, she was having some sort of feelings explosion. Things bubbling to the surface and tipping over, like a boiling pot you’d looked away from.

  But why should it be like this? They’d been having sex, and now they weren’t. They barely knew one another. Robyn had no right to start thinking silly thoughts about Jodie. She had no right to feel hurt when Jodie called time. She had no right to be making references to their time together.

  Yet, still.

  ‘Bakers! You have three hours! Off you bake!’ Madeline yelled, and the room set to work.

  ***

  ‘Jesus,’ I’m absolutely cream-crackered,’ Dorothy said as they sat in the lounge of the hotel.

  ‘Yep. Worth the effort, though. That gateau was incredible,’ Robyn noted, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Her cake had come out alright. But it had only taken third. Second had been the gateau.

  And first?

  ‘Yes, well, can’t compete with a mirror glaze,’ Dorothy said jovially.

  Jodie, sat across from them with a magazine, glanced up. ‘I did some research, that’s all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Susan, shrilly, still burning from fourth position. Her golden sequins had exactly the result Jodie and Robyn had speculated. Looked gorgeous, tasted dry, according to Adam and Imogen. Robyn had snuck a bite later, confirming the assessment.

  ‘Stats for cake week. Three out of the four people who made mirror glaze cakes won the week,’ Jodie explained dispassionately.

  ‘So you just played the odds?’ Susan asked, deeply offended.

  But Robyn wasn’t affronted. She was impressed. She had a deep respect for those who knew how to work stats and research. Stupidly, she’d never thought to play the game like this.

  The runner handed them keys to their respective rooms. Jodie was on her feet immediately. ‘Night.’

  ‘We won’t see you at dinner?’ Dorothy asked with a thin smile.

  ‘Nah.’ She was off.

  Robyn watched her go. That bum, she could remember how it tasted to sink her teeth into it. Well, that was the past. Probably for the best. If it had happened even one more time, Robyn was going to find herself in trouble. She knew it. There was something about Jodie that had grabbed her attention from the start. She’d thought it was dislike. Turned out? Duh, repressed sexual desire. But Robyn had no intention of letting a few nice moments make that something else.

  Twenty-Six

  Jesus Christ, what a day. It had taken every ounce of strength Jodie had to keep her composure. That fucking mirror glaze had been a ballbreaker. Her father hadn’t taught her to make it, so she didn’t know if she was making a mistake by trying to game the situation. She’d made three practise cakes last week, doubt-ridden without her father’s steady voice in her head to guide her. But she knew she had to stop relying on her dad’s techniques. Good as they were, they were now a decade out of date. Everything moved on, and that included baking. The classics had served her well. But it was week six, and she couldn’t hear anyone tell her she lacked imagination again. She had to up her game.

  But that wasn’t the only thing that made the day tough. Why had Robyn said that stuff about their naked times? Jodie felt like her face, usually so reliable at maintaining its resting bitch position, had screamed the truth. That Robyn had turned her way the hell on.

  Jodie was livid at Robyn. Why would she do this? Oh, right, of course. She was playing the game. Well, Jodie told herself, she wouldn’t win.

  And she hadn’t. The cake came out on top, and so did Jodie. Not in the way she’d have liked, but… OK, enough of that. Jodie wasn’t doing that again. She’d put a stop to it, and she was OK now. With every passing day, she felt more like herself. She had Billy. She had herself. That was the end of the list of people Jodie Jacobs wanted in her life.

  Innuendo or no, Jodie was determined to hold firm. She had said it was off, and she meant it. She wasn’t taking a step backwards. Onwards. It would have been Jodie’s motto if she had one. If her pops had taught her cross-stitch instead of baking, she could have sewn it onto a pillow. As it was, Luke Jacobs’ skills were of the edible kind and therefore not lasting. The only place his thoughts could live on was in Jodie’s head.

  What would he have said about the Robyn situation? It was hard for Jodie to picture herself sitting down with her dad over a cuppa and telling him that she was having the best sex of her life, asking was it possible to keep herself from getting emotionally involved as a result? He wasn’t there to ask, so she’d never really know. Which meant that Jodie could only rely on her own instincts. And they were screaming, careful.

  But she was being careful. She’d burned down the bridge, told Robyn she wasn’t going there again. Robyn had seemed cool with that. Which made it even harder for Jodie to consider going back on her declaration. Were she to have the desire, simple pride could be relied upon to act as a failsafe. She wasn’t going to say never again and then say, ‘Actually…’ How very weak that would look.

  The runner gave her a key to her room, and she said her goodbyes to the other three contestants, taking great care not to look at Robyn, and off she went, back to her room, aka the nunnery. She had a book she could read.

  In the room, Jodie dropped her bag down on the floor and kicked off her shoes. She sat down on the edge of the bed, did a huge yawn and stretch and lay back.

  DINGALINGALINGALING

  Jodie sat back up with a start. Fucking fire alarm!

  She got her shoes back on, grabbed her room key, and walked out into the hall, which was rapidly filling with irritated people. Jodie didn’t blame them. Fire drills were annoying. This hotel had better be on actual fire, or she was gonna be livid.

  Out on the street, people were being directed across the road to a park. Jodie duly headed over.

  She watched everyone else drifting out. Soon enough, she saw
a few familiar faces. Dorothy was first, scuttling out with a cup of tea in her hand, clearly unwilling to part with it in the face of death. Then came Susan, who was getting in the face of a staff member, demanding to know when she could go back to the restaurant and stuff her face.

  But one person wasn’t appearing. Jodie found herself looking for her despite herself. She walked over to Dorothy. ‘I haven’t seen Robyn yet.’