A Little Less Talk and a Lot More Action

by LuAnn McLane

  “Really?” When the camera pans down to my feet I barely resist the urge to curl my toes since I could use a pedicure. This also answers my question if we’re already being filmed.

  Holy cow.

  “You betcha. So, way to go, Macy!” Cody holds his palms up for a double high five and this time I manage to hit both of his hands. “Is her outfit okay, Jenny?” Cody turns to a no-nonsense looking woman who sweeps past us into the room.

  “Jennifer Markim,” she announces as she extends her hand to me. “Director of production.” I’m thinking she’s fairly young but has mannerisms of someone much older. Her eyes narrow behind round glasses while she gives me a once-over. She purses her lips for a second and just when I feel a giggle start to bubble in my throat, she gives me a tight little smile followed by a crisp nod.

  “Yes . . .” She draws out the word in a soft voice that somehow commands authority. “She looks casual as if she’s going grocery shopping. It will give the show the ambiance of being spontaneous, almost as if you happened upon her instead of this being staged.”

  “Like a redneck Take Home Chef,” I supply, remembering my conversation with Sam. But then I want to clamp my hand over my big fat mouth! I look at Cody to see if he’s offended but he gives me a huge grin.

  “Yeah, I love that . . . ,” Cody comments, and I want to fall over with relief. “Jenny, can we somehow use that in the promo? Do a little spoof kind of thing?” I get the feeling she wants to tell him to call her Jennifer instead of Jenny but refrains probably because it wouldn’t do any good.

  “Won’t the Take Home Chef guy get upset?” I ask in a small voice. I don’t want this to end badly—my suggestions often do.

  “Curtis Stone? Nah, he’s a friend. We’ll probably have to get some sort of legal permission, though, right Jenny?”

  Jennifer does two short nods that are so hard I wonder if they hurt her neck. “I’m on it, Mr. West.”

  “You know I hate it when you call me Mr. West.”

  She swallows and then does the two short nods thing again. “Yes, sir, C-Co—”

  “You can’t do it, can you?” he asks.

  Jenny shakes her head. “Sorry, sir,” she says softly, her voice so apologetic that I almost laugh.

  When Cody loops his arm around Jennifer, two bright pink spots appear on the apples of her cheeks. “Jenny, just when are you gonna learn how to chill?”

  “I don’t chill, sir.” I fully expect her to click her heels together and salute but upon closer inspection I have to wonder if she’s got a crush on her boss.

  “Someday, I’ll get y’all to let down that hair of yours,” he teases.

  As if afraid it might literally happen, Jennifer reaches back and pats the tight bun at the nape of her neck. Satisfied that all is in place, she squares her shoulders. “That’s not likely, Mr. West,” she responds primly.

  “I’d bet my bottom dollar,” Cody comments under his breath but loud enough for her to hear. I have to wonder if Cody is merely trying to get her goat or is serious. When Jennifer turns away in what looks like a huff, Cody grins at her back. I’m thinking that there might be something going on beneath the surface that neither of them realizes. Love it seems is certainly in the air in Nashville, Tennessee.

  I find that I’m smiling in spite of my nerves and thankfully the urge to giggle has subsided, at least for now.

  After picking up a clipboard Jennifer turns around. “Now,” she says to me, “I understand that there is a certain gentleman whom you’re trying to impress. I do believe it’s time to get down to business.”

  18

  A Little Less Talk

  Jennifer gestures toward my small oval table, which is off to the side of the galley-style kitchen. The cameraman follows, making me feel as though I’m in a reality TV show. I should tell them that teaching me to cook would view more like a sitcom than an instructional cooking class. “Let’s have a seat and discuss what you’d like to prepare for your boyfriend.”

  “Um, Luke isn’t exactly my boyfriend,” I amend with a hint of embarrassment. I’m not sure why I felt the need to clarify the relationship other than I don’t want Luke to catch wind of this and think that I’m telling the world that he belongs to me.

  “He will be after this dinner,” Cody promises from where he’s checking out my tiny kitchen.

  Jennifer taps the pen to her cheek and then asks, “What would you like to prepare for your . . . friend?” I’m guessing you’d like to knock his socks off.”

  “More like his boxers,” Cody comments from the kitchen.

  Jennifer shakes her head and says to the cameraman, “Remember to edit that out.”

  “You’re no fun,” Cody accuses her, and then opens the fridge. “My God, there’s nothing in here but beer and sweet tea.”

  “I just moved here,” I explain, even though a month from now it’s likely to look the same.

  “You’re like a bachelor, only way prettier.”

  “Edit that too.”

  “What?” Cody says with an innocent look. “I was gonna say with way better boobs.”

  “Cody!” Jennifer exclaims, and then clamps her hand over her mouth. I wonder if it’s because of what he just said or that she totally slipped and called him Cody. With color high in her cheeks she pushes her glasses up on her nose and whispers to me, “Try to ignore him. We need to get down to business.”

  “I heard that,” Cody says from where he’s examining my lack of cutlery. “Jenny, we’re gonna have to hook her up with just about everything in order to put this meal together.”

  “I’ll make a note of it, Mr. West,” she says, and then reverts her attention to me. “Okay, now just what would you like to prepare?”

  “Mmm, Luke is a small-town guy from Hootertown, Kentucky. Pretty much a down-home, meat-and-potatoes kind of guy.”

  “Hootertown?” Cody says with a laugh. “Maybe we should do hot wings and onion rings?”

  “And you can wear a little white tank top and orange shorts,” I suggest without remembering that he’s a famous person and I’m supposed to be nervous.

  Cody points at me and then laughs. “Beat me to the punch. Macy, I like your way of thinkin’.”

  Jenny gives me a don’t-encourage-him look, but for a second there I think she almost smiled. But then she glances at her watch and says, “Time is of the essence. We need to plan this menu, go to the grocery store, and then prepare the meal before Luke Carter arrives.”

  “Sorry,” I tell her, but I’m starting to relax and enjoy myself.

  “Okay,” Jennifer says as she looks over her notes. “We’ve decided on hot wings but a healthier grilled and baked version, twice-baked potatoes—not so healthy but one of Luke’s favorite foods—celery and blue cheese dressing to cut the spicy wings, and chocolate brownie sundaes for dessert—another Luke Carter favorite.” Jennifer looks up from her list and says, “If it’s not too bold of me to say . . . Macy you sure know a lot about this guy for him not to be your boyfriend. You know everything down to his choice of beer brand.”

  “I’ve known him for a long time. Luke is my best friend’s brother.”

  “Really now, how long have you been in love with him?” Jennifer asks, and then puts her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I’ve overstepped my bounds.” She looks at the cameraman and says, “Edit that out.”

  “Does it show that much?” I ask her, suddenly no longer embarrassed. I’m beginning to think it’s silly to deny my feelings especially since I seem to wear them on my sleeve.

  “I’m afraid so,” she says with a sigh. “It’s obvious in the way you talk about him . . . the look on your face when you say his name and, like I said, you seem to know every detail about the man,” Jennifer explains with a bit of a dreamy expression, but then seems to catch herself and slips back into professional mode. “Just an observation,” she says in her usual clipped manner.

  I give her a smile. “Well then, we’ll have to hope that this bodacious meal
really does knock his boxers off. Bam!” I reach toward my waist and make as though I’m yanking off my pants and tossing them into the air. “Just like that!”

  Jennifer’s eyes widen and for the first time she actually forgets to be prim and proper, tilts her head back, and laughs hard.

  Pointing at the cameraman I say, “Please edit that out too.” This makes her laugh harder and after removing her glasses to swipe at tears of mirth, Jennifer looks at her watch and says, “Oh my, time is slipping away from us. We must be off,” she says in a laughter-gurgled tone. With a flick of her hand at the crew she starts toward the door but then looks over at Cody who is standing quite still blinking at her. “What?” she asks him. “Did I forget something?” She glances down at her list and then over at him again.

  “I don’t believe it. You actually know how to laugh.”

  “Oh stop!” Jennifer shakes her head, “For once I thought you were being serious. I should have known better,” she says a bit dismissively, and I see his expression falter for a second before he recovers. I do believe that even though he’s always joking, he cares about her more than she knows. Fear, I think to myself and wonder how many relationships are ruined or then again never even started because of it. It occurs to me that I’m seeing this in others since it hits so close to home. I make a silent promise to myself that tonight I’m going to push my inhibitions aside and jump without a net. I’m getting my chance and by God it’s about time that I stop talking, stop thinking, and take some action.

  “Hey there, lighten up, Macy,” Cody says as we leave my apartment. “Y’all look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders. This is gonna be painless, I promise.”

  “Oh believe me,” I assure him as we pile into the white Escalade waiting at the curb, “I’ve come so far out of my comfort zone in the past few days that this sort of thing is starting to feel almost . . . normal.”

  “Welcome to the wacky world of show business,” Cody tells me with a crooked grin. “Where normal is pretty much tossed out the window. Right, Jenny?”

  Jennifer looks up from her laptop where she had been furiously typing away. “It certainly is where you’re concerned,” she comments, but then her eyes widen. “Um and of course that’s part of your charm.”

  “Nice save, Jenny,” Cody says with a shake of his head.

  I notice that Jennifer’s lips twitch as though she might smile but then she lowers her head and starts typing away once more. Cody, who pretends to be all play and no work, turns around in his seat and studies his own notes. Like Emeril’s energetic Bamm! or Bobby Flay’s Boy Meets Grill, Cody’s bigger-than-life personality is obviously a big audience pleaser, but when we enter the grocery story he walks around with authority, reminding me that he’s also an amazing chef and really knows his stuff.

  Stuff, I might add, that is a complete mystery to me.

  While the crew is setting up lighting, sound, and camera angles, Cody turns to me and grins. “Macy, why is it that you have this look on your face as if you’re in a foreign country and can’t speak the language?”

  I shrug. “I’ve never thought of it like that but it sure fits. I guess because my mama died when I was young I never got to know my way around the way most kids did. My daddy shopped like a guy—you know, with a little handheld basket.” I point to a stack of them and shake my head. “We only bought the bare essentials . . . eating out whenever possible.” I raise my hands upward. “Even now I never remember where things are stocked. I’m usually walking around in a zigzag daze.” When I demonstrate for him, he chuckles.

  “Trust me, you’re not the only one.”

  “My goodness, why do there have to be so many choices for everything? I mean how many varieties of toilet paper do we really need?”

  Cody angles his head. “I hear ya.”

  On a roll now and getting riled up for no good reason, I continue my tirade. “There’s just too much room for error, ya know? Low sodium, low carb, sugar free. Chicken raised without antibiotics? I don’t even begin to understand that one. And just last week I came home with fat-free sour cream by mistake.” I shudder. “Who could eat that stuff? I mean what’s the point? That’s like caffeine-free Mountain Dew. Ha! That just ain’t right.”

  Cody nods. “I see your point.”

  I jam my thumb toward my chest. “Now, if it were up to me, I’d simplify things, you know? Put items together that belong together, like bologna and cheese, eggs and bacon.”

  “Pretzels and beer?”

  “Yeah, now you’re catchin’ on. It sure would save a person some time and effort,” I tell him in a serious tone until I realize that he’s having a hard time not laughing. “You’ve been filming this, haven’t you?” With narrowed eyes I glance at the cameraman and for the first time notice that a microphone is suspended on a pole above my head.

  “Sorry Macy, it was too good not to.”

  “So this segment is going to be pokin’ fun at me?”

  “I won’t deny the humor, but that’s always part of my show. The thing is that you’re not alone. You’re more representative of women your age when it comes to cooking and grocery shopping than you realize.”

  “Okay, now I feel a little better.”

  “Well . . .” He grins as he pulls out his list of items we need to purchase. “I admit that you’re at the extreme end of the spectrum, but you mark my words, there will be a lot of viewers who will watch you shoppin’ and cookin’ with me and who will totally relate. Preparing meals at home is quickly becoming a lost art.”

  “Yeah but there seem to be more cooking shows on television than ever. What’s up with that?”

  Cody shrugs. “I’ve wondered that myself. Maybe you can answer that one for me,” he says as he grabs a grocery cart and starts pushing.

  As I fall into step with him I think about the question for a moment and then reply, “Well, I suppose I watch cooking shows for that very reason. I rarely cook but I would love to be able to whip up something amazing.” Pausing, I think of Jamie Lee’s mama’s Sunday chicken dinners. “I don’t think there’s anything that demonstrates love and caring more than cooking a meal for someone.”

  “I think you hit the nail on the head, Macy. Which is why I’m going to show you how to prepare something that’s simple, easy, and yet delicious enough to knock your boyfriend’s . . . um”—he pauses long enough for me to hold my breath but the look of warning he gets from Jennifer has him finishing—“socks off.”

  Shoppers look on with curiosity, some of them pointing, talking behind their hands, or waving when Cody’s recognized. It makes me almost feel as if I’m a celebrity too. Jennifer keeps the onlookers at bay with promises of autographs after we’ve finished shopping even though we’ll have to rush back to start preparing the meal before Luke arrives.

  Luke. Just the thought of him sends a tingle of excitement sliding down my spine like condensation on a glass of sweet tea. Now that I’ve decided upon my no-holds-barred-less-talk-and-more-action approach, my anticipation of his arrival is shooting through the roof. Of course one little problem that I’m going to have to overcome is that when I get nervous, and I’m certain I will be, I tend to talk a million miles a minute or heaven forbid, giggle. With that thought I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. Just exercise some control, I tell myself. “You can do this.”

  “Excuse me?” Cody asks as he heads down an aisle as though he knows where he’s going, which of course he does. He stops and picks up a bottle of hot sauce without even looking at the other dozen varieties. Impressive. “Macy, you really need to get over your fear of the grocery store.”

  I nod, letting him think that I’m nervous about the show and not thinking ahead to my evening with Luke.

  He hands me the list. “Here, you’re officially in charge.”

  “Oh, kinda like a scavenger hunt?”

  Cody looks at me as though he thinks I’m kidding, so I try to pull a face as if I were, but he’s on to me and nods. “It
’s not that hard, really.”

  “Oh don’t look so smug. I just bet you’re lost in the feminine hygiene aisle,” I toss back at him as though he’s not a famous chef and I’m not a hairdresser from Hootertown. Ohmigod, but he is and I am. With a gasp I turn to the cameraman and frantically whisper, “Edit that out.”

  “No, don’t,” says Cody in a high-pitched wheeze because he’s laughing so hard. “My God, Macy.”

  “You can’t leave that in!”

  “We’ll edit it out later.”

  “You are such a liar!”

  He nods as he hands me the list. “Yeah, I am. But I shouldn’t act so superior. Let’s face it; you wouldn’t want me cutting your hair, right? I deserved your put-down.”

  “Okay, you’re forgiven.” I glance down at the neatly written items, guessing that they are in some sort of order to make things easier as we shop. I try to figure it out as though it’s a code of some sort. “Aha!” These are listed in order of where they’re found in the store. Am I right?”

  Cody raises his hand. “High five!” After I smack his palm he says, “Eliminates the zigzagging that you were referring to earlier.”

  “The trick is knowing your way around.”

  “Well yeah. But after cooking dinner tonight, hopefully you’ll want to do it more often.”

  Cody’s method, of course works and in no time I’ve found the items and filled the cart with essential ingredients for hot wings, twice-baked potatoes, celery and blue cheese dressing. I’m about to go down the frozen food section for vanilla ice cream needed for the brownie sundae when I pause to take a sample of raspberry tea offered by a sweet little old lady.

  “Thanks,” I tell her as I pick up a tiny paper cup. I glance at Cody and shame him into coming over to take one as well.

  “Delicious, isn’t it?” A big smile brightens her wrinkled face. Sweeping her hand like Vanna White, she gestures to a big display of bottled tea. “Raspberry with a hint of honey. Zero calories and refreshing on a hot day such as this.” She thrusts a coupon into my hand. “Can’t pass that up, can you?”