And He Cooks Too

by Barbara Barrett

  She turned the laptop toward him. “Here, we can view it together.” She’d let him see for himself and not influence his opinion.

  When the video finished, they both sat back, thinking. Reese angled her head Jasper’s direction. “Well?”

  “Well, uh, you have to remember that you weren’t using top-of-the-line equipment, or a studio set, and you’re still feeling your way through the concept you want to get across.”

  “Cut the soft soap, Jasper. What do you really think?”

  He swiped at his jaw. In a quiet, deliberate way, he said, “You still have work to do.”

  “I got that already,” she returned. “But how am I going to fix it?”

  “It’s the directing, isn’t it?” Evan flopped down in a chair across from Reese and Jasper, an expression on his face that telegraphed defeat.

  Sighing, Reese said, “No, Evan, it’s not that entirely. It’s me too. I look and act like cardboard.”

  Evan shot a quizzical glance at Jasper. Reese went through the same introduction as she had with her other two brothers. “Evan wrote the script for the demo and served as my director,” she felt compelled to add before Jasper unwittingly criticized those parts.

  “Ah,” Jasper said, expressing understanding. “Pretty important jobs for one so young.”

  She flinched. Jasper was only trying to find something positive to say, but she knew what was coming.

  “I’m sixteen,” Evan replied defensively. “Seventeen in three months.”

  The older man shot her a panicked look, as if beseeching her to smooth over his faux pas. Before she could salvage things, though, Evan took the lead. “So you were Reese’s director.”

  Appearing relieved to be on more solid ground, Jasper said, “Yes, that’s right. But I’m not with the show anymore either.”

  Evan’s eyes widened. “No?”

  Their new consultant told Evan about his own recent departure from the show.

  “Jasper has agreed to help us while he decides what he’s going to do next,” Reese explained, wanting to get that piece of information on the table even though she knew it might upset her brother.

  Evan sat back, his eyes narrowing. “You’re going to take over as director?” His voice cracked in the middle of the question.

  Jasper stirred in his seat. “No, no. At least we haven’t discussed that yet. With my contacts in the business, your mother asked me to help her pitch the demo.”

  “Oh,” Evan said, the hint of a smile returning. “Well, then, would you consider it?”

  Reese’s eyes shot up. “You don’t want to direct anymore, Evan? That frown you saw on my face when you came in wasn’t about you or your work. You believe that, don’t you?”

  Evan grimaced. “Yeah, I guess so. I knew when we were taping that something was wrong. You weren’t yourself. But I didn’t know how to help you.” He shifted his gaze to Jasper. “You’ve been doing that kind of thing for years. So don’t worry about stepping on my toes.”

  “Tell you what,” Jasper offered. “If Reese agrees, why don’t you email me a copy of the video. I’ll review it from home and be back tomorrow with my thoughts. Once I’ve taken a closer look at what you’ve got, I’ll decide whether I want to direct. But if I do,” he looked at Evan, “I’m going to need an associate.”

  Evan blinked. Reese set down her coffee mug. “Associate?” Evan asked. “What does that mean?”

  Jasper cocked his head. “Well,” he drawled, “whenever I need a translation of family-speak, I’ll turn to you. Whenever I need a second opinion, you’re my man. And whenever you get a brainstorm, you tell me about it. How’s that?”

  Evan sat up straighter. “Uh, yeah. Sounds goods,” he beamed.

  Shortly afterward, as Reese led Jasper to the front door, she couldn’t thank him enough for his visit and for helping her fledgling production company. “You are a Godsend, Jasper. I hope you know that. Leonie’s loss is my gain.”

  He bowed his head, suddenly shy. “Other way around. This project is a Godsend for me. I started second guessing my decision to leave.” He faced her. “You’ve made it possible for me to get past that.”

  He hugged her awkwardly. “Don’t worry about the demo. I’m pretty sure it can be fixed. And I kind of like the idea of playing mentor.”

  “For me or for Evan?” she teased.

  He started. “What?”

  “That you were here to mentor me? Maybe not, but that’s how it’s worked out, hasn’t it?” As he walked down the front sidewalk, she called out, “Better put out a shingle, Jasper. It should say, ‘Godsend and mentor.’”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “That was fast,” James observed when Nick climbed back in the car less than ten minutes after heading up to Reese’s door.

  “Long enough,” Nick growled. “Let’s go.”

  His driver took one look at his passenger through the rearview mirror and immediately turned the car around, no more questions.

  “Got any scotch in here?” Nick asked as he rooted through the vehicle’s small storage cabinets. He needed a drink to clear his head. Too many conflicting thoughts swarmed around in there. Reese left the show because of him, not because of Leonie or because of that obnoxious article. She left because he’d lied to her. The one thing she couldn’t tolerate.

  The realization staggered him.

  Over his shoulder, James said, “Try the left door.”

  Success! Almost a full bottle. He fished around to find a glass and, once he found it, sloshed a jigger’s worth of the good stuff into it. Downed a long gulp, coughed. He closed his eyes, waited for the liquid warmth to make its way down his insides and erase the last several minutes of his life. Hell, the last several weeks, since his path had crossed Reese Dunbar’s.

  By the time he opened his eyes again, that first, mood-changing sip was fast at work numbing his senses. He stared out the window, as tidy suburban streets, then more scruffy industrial areas rolled by. He didn’t see them. Instead, he focused on the contents of his glass, jiggling the liquid to see how fast he could swish it without spilling any.

  She’d asked him why the charade. Then dismissed his explanation. Had she never gone out on a limb for someone? Couldn’t she understand how sometimes the right thing to do might not be the wisest?

  He didn’t need her judging him. Second-guessing his ethics. So fine, if she wanted to call it quits with him as well as the show, let her. He wasn’t going to let her slice and dice his heart as efficiently as she chopped vegetables. He didn’t need her. Why should he expect her to be different than every other woman that had crossed his path?

  He’d expected too much. Hoped for something that just wasn’t going to happen. Damn her! His drink nearly went flying as he slammed it down on the small tray in front of him, but miraculously, just in time, he thought to steady the glass. The scotch-produced heat burned his stomach. So he and Leonie had misrepresented his cooking credentials. Who were they hurting? Certainly not Reese. The show had put her career back on track. Who was she to question his actions?

  The car accelerated as it left the urban setting and headed into the Connecticut countryside. His thoughts picked up speed too, jumping ahead to life without Reese. It wasn’t like they’d been together all that long. He could get over her. Move on. Of course, he could.

  Hell, who was he kidding? With her self-confident expertise, the woman had walked into his life and burrowed under his skin, just like she’d snuggle into his arms after their lovemaking. Surely she wouldn’t just walk away.

  Maybe, after a few days, she might reconsider. Realize she’d been too tough on him. They’d been on the way to something special. More than an affair. More like…

  Geez, how had he been about to end that thought? Love? Nah, that was taking it a little too far. He wasn’t in love with her.

  He no more than considered that thought than he remembered that final look she gave him. Pity. He was sure of that. Maybe a little disgust mixed in. A few days weren
’t going to change that look. Deep down inside, an increasingly more painful ache ripped through him. There was no going back. It was over. Over before he realized how much she meant to him.

  He settled back into the seat, unable to pull himself out of the cloud of defeat surrounding him. The panorama whizzed by outside the window, making him dizzy. For several minutes, he simply sat there, attempting to clear his head and absorb it all. Usually, when something really got to him, he could make light of it with a few clever words. He’d gotten pretty good at that tactic. It had helped him through years of loneliness, being the outsider. Even Leonie’s never-ending self-involvement.

  But now? Could he do it again? Shake off this overwhelming feeling of defeat and move on. What choice did he have? He didn’t need Reese. He didn’t need any woman. Not even Leonie.

  Not. Even. Leonie. Thanks to her, he’d lost his chance at having something very special with Reese. He closed his eyes, attempted to channel the alcoholic courage coursing through his veins. For the moment, that was all he had to rely on.

  Then light dawned. He had himself. And his own free will. He could move on. There was nothing left to lose.

  He envisioned a new future. One where, though alone, he was free to pick and choose his roles. Hell, pick and choose whatever he wanted to do. Maybe even move back to the West Coast.

  Countryside disappeared. The vehicle slipped onto the heavily traveled thoroughfare that would take them into the city. He retrieved and raised the glass. “Here’s to you, Nick. And moving on.” He downed the rest of the drink in one slug and slumped back in his seat as the liquor scorched his throat.

  ****

  The next morning, with only a slight headache reminding him of his trip back to town, Nick pulled himself out of bed, grabbed for his cell and began what he thought would be the first day of the rest of his life. Time to call his agent, Myra Donlevy. Get her actively seeking parts for him again. Reese and Jasper had sought greener pastures. Now it was his turn.

  “Myra? Nick Coltrane. Got good news. I’m on the market again.”

  “Nick, darling. What a coincidence you should call. Your name came up not more than five minutes ago.”

  He set down the mug of coffee he’d poured before making his call. “Sounds promising. What’s the part?”

  “Actually, it’s the part of Nick Coltrane. Seems like you’ve been recast.”

  He pulled the phone closer to his ear. “Say that again.”

  “You haven’t heard? I thought you were calling to do damage control.”

  He sat forward. “Explain.”

  “Check your computer.” She named a website for him. “As soon as possible.”

  He cleared his throat. “What’s on there?” He considered all the possible videos of himself that could have found their way to the Internet and came up empty. He was usually a pretty discreet guy.

  “I might have advised against it, had you consulted me, but now that it’s a done deal, you’re certainly getting attention. I didn’t know that female chef you added to your show was so funny. She’s sure nailed you, Nick.”

  “Reese? What’s she got to do with this?” A tremor of fear nibbled at his insides. Reese had been pretty steamed at him when he’d gone to see her, but she wasn’t the vengeful type.

  “You might want to take your phone off the hook today. The buzz is building, guy.” Chuckling, she hung up.

  Time to review his contract with Myra. Some support she’d given him.

  He went straight to his computer. Dead man walking.

  The Internet video lasted less than five minutes. During the first few views, he sat riveted in front of the screen, like a rubber-necker unable to take his eyes off the scene of an accident. Then it began to sink in. Reese was parodying him. A couple more times through and he realized the extent to which he’d been made to look like a fool. On top of that, she’d come mighty close to revealing that he couldn’t cook.

  His phone rang. Damn! He should have taken Myra’s advice more seriously.

  Fortunately, or so it seemed at first, the caller was Leonie. “Thanks to a few so-called friends whose names I’ve now removed from my contact list, I have discovered a new website where anyone - any living person, no matter how depraved or despicable - can access videos supplied by anonymous moviemaker wannabes.”

  A sharp pain sliced through his rib cage. Was this what a heart attack felt like? “You’ve, uh, seen the video?”

  “Seen? I don’t believe I’d describe my viewing experience quite so civilly. More like…I’ve experienced extreme humiliation. All thanks to that woman. She couldn’t just leave, dragging her tail behind her. She had to send this public valentine.”

  Ironic. A few days before, Leonie had been so victorious, having used her own Internet connections to humiliate Reese. Probably not the best time to remind her of that, though. “Yeah, well, who knew she had such a flair for comedy?”

  “Comedy?” Her voice rose as high as her annual spa bill. “How can you treat this so casually, Nick? That little movie, or whatever they’re called these days, is mocking my show.”

  Her show. Forget about his career. She certainly had. “It’ll blow over. Tomorrow, someone else will be making an Internet ass of herself.”

  “But the damage this little movie is doing today is more negative publicity than we can afford. We’re so close to getting the nod from the network.”

  The network. That intangible entity that had become his rival for Leonie’s attention.

  He hung up. Should he go back to bed or commit himself to an institution? Word of mouth and electronic chitchat could make a national, hell, an international hero or fool out anyone or anything that tickled the cyber audience’s fancy. If that happened with Reese’s video, his days as a cooking show host were limited.

  Back up a minute. Wasn’t that what he wanted? Not quite the way he’d planned to go about it, but as long as he could keep his acting career intact, it didn’t matter. He sank back into his couch cushions, savoring the realization. This was going to be easier than he thought.

  ****

  The day after his initial visit to the Grandquist home, Jasper returned with a lengthy list of suggestions for overhauling the demo. He also carried a baker’s box that turned out to be homemade chocolate chip cookies he baked—yes, Jasper, the non-cook baked cookies—and was dressed in grungy blue jeans and a stained T-shirt that said “Wesleyan College.”

  Reese scurried off to study Jasper’s comments while her mother claimed his attention to go over their contact list.

  Twenty minutes later, Jasper and her mother sought her out. “Reese? We need to talk,” her mother said in a somewhat breathless though guarded voice.

  Reese looked up from her notes on Jasper’s notes. “What’s up?”

  The other two exchanged strange looks. “You tell her,” her mother said.

  Jasper scratched his chin. “I’m not sure I know how to put this. I didn’t even know such a thing existed.”

  “Yes?” Reese prompted, growing just a tad impatient.

  “It seems, even before we’ve shopped your demo, you’ve already made a name for yourself.”

  The first thought that occurred to her was that Leonie had talked to another reporter and totally ruined her name this time. “What? How?”

  Jasper put away his cell phone, still shaking his head, amazed. “Apparently there’s a short video out on the Internet. It features you doing some kind of comedy shtick. It’s drawing a phenomenal number of hits as the word spreads.”

  “Me?” She looked to her mother for clarification.

  “Remember when we were taping how we all got out of sorts and you took it upon yourself to entertain us with, uh, your rendition of Nick Coltrane?”

  Reese thought back a couple days. “Sure. But—” Then it hit her. “You don’t mean—”

  Her mother nodded her head and watched Reese, as if waiting to see how she’d respond.

  “But that was just me goofing around.
I didn’t know Evan had taped it until afterward. How did it get on the Internet?”

  It didn’t take long for her to find out. Evan and Charley, back from tennis, shot in from the garage, seeking refreshments.

  “Oh, Evan?” she said more sweetly than she felt. “Do you know anything about a video of me being out on the Internet?”

  “It was funny, Reese,” Evan protested. “How was I supposed to know when I sent it to my friends that it would wind up there?”

  “Didn’t you say something like ‘for your eyes only’?” she asked, still incredulous that her seemingly innocent teenaged brother had leaked the video of her imitating Nick.

  Evan exchanged a look with his older brother that said, “Doesn’t she know anything?”

  Taking pity on his younger sibling, Charley attempted to play it down. “You’re the media darling for a day or so and then it will fade from memory. In the meantime, enjoy the publicity. Maybe it’ll make Mom and Jasper’s efforts easier.”

  “Easier for what?” she asked, her voice rising. “To get me into a comedy club, maybe. Certainly not to sell a serious cooking show.”

  She looked to Jasper. “Could I get sued for this? I wouldn’t put it past Leonie.”

  Jasper pondered her question. “I don’t know. The publicity should only help And He Cooks Too.”

  “At my expense!”

  “You need to calm down while Jasper and I,” here her mother looked pointedly at her two sons, “and your brothers assess the damage. This video may be getting a lot of hits, but maybe those are limited to people the boys’ ages. People who’ll think it’s funny but nothing more.”

  Charley sucked in his lips; Evan busied himself making a sandwich; Reese watched them attempt to distance themselves from their mother’s comment. What did they know?

  Her first hint at what they weren’t saying came a few minutes later, when she checked her email and phone texts. Almost every fellow student in her culinary class had seen it and commented. She steeled herself to read them.

  “Turn in your apron for a microphone.”

  “Never thought that the class brain was also the class clown.”