Double Stuffed: MFM Menage Romance

by Farrah Paige

  Sandra decided to call Steve, live, on air. The phone rang and Steven picked up.

  “Hey, Steven this is Sandra, we are live on the air of the show, how are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m doing great, to what do I owe this phone call?” he asked.

  “Well, I have Honey here and she’s pretty upset by the way things shook out on your show. My audience has decided to give her a second chance. She and my audience wants to see her in a baker battle against your two judges.”

  The crowd went wild. There was an awkward pause.

  “Well,” said Steven to a ripple of laughter. “I guess we’ll have to try and set this up then.”

  The audience went wild, almost on cue. I felt that maybe I was being set up again, but I couldn’t be sure. How much of this reality could a TV show actually manipulate. It seemed to me that his limits had to be showing despite his wealth and resources.

  “Okay, it looks like we have a competition folks.” announced Sandra.

  The audience seemed to love it. I had to ask myself, how many of them would love it if they were sitting in my seat or if one of their loved ones had been put through the ringer like I had. My guess is, it would’ve been a totally different reaction.

  They sent me back to the hotel, this time in a limo. I found Emma sitting in the coffee shop. I sat across from her a little stunned.

  “What happened? Was it bad?” she asked. “I couldn’t watch. I’ve just been sitting here sipping coffee.”

  “I agreed to a new competition against Ethan and Clark,” I said.

  “What?” she said shocked. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that. Why did you do that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not sure if it was my idea or that I got manipulated into it. But in front of the live audience, I couldn’t say no. It was like I was addicted to the attention or something.”

  “Well, I have to admit it would be fun to watch,” said Emma. “I mean, look at it from the audience’s perspective. They saw the guys fight over you, then the scandal, then you blow the show, then this--- I mean, it’s almost a logical progression and--- Hey, maybe this is all planned. If it is, it’s pretty genius.”

  “Emma.” I objected.

  “Well, it is,” she said. “There’s no denying it if it is. Otherwise, I guess it’s just really, really bad luck. Or good luck, depending.”

  “What am I going to do?” I said, dropping my face to the table. “I can’t believe this keeps happening.”

  “Have a coffee and let’s talk strategy,” she suggested. “You can beat those guys.”

  “I can?” I said. “You think so?”

  “Oh, I know so. Think about it,” she said. “You’ve been cooking nonstop for how long? When’s the last time those two cooked anything? They’re probably so out of practice, they’ve forgotten what a kitchen is.”

  “That sounds like a long shot,” I said. “But I guess I can go with that. I’m going to win because everyone else sucks.”

  “Plus, you got me. As long as I stay away from tequila,” she clarified.

  I got a text. It was from Steven. It said, “Tomorrow at Noon. Baker Battles studio. Don’t be late.”

  “Okay, it looks like we’re on,” I said. “Either way, I guess I finally get to go home afterwards. I mean, after that what could Steven possibly do to me. I don’t see how he could humiliate me further.”

  “I would rather not speculate,” said Emma. “Let’s just concentrate on winning. If you can do that, then Steven will have no choice but to let you go.”

  “Yeah, I guess he’ll get what he wants,” I said sadly. “A hit TV show and piles of more money. I just wish a guy like him would lose. I would love to see him get his comeuppance.”

  Chapter 18

  Honey

  I woke up in the morning and I freaked out. It was several hours before I even got up, but I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take the pressure. I packed my bag and snuck out of the fire exit of the hotel. I was abandoning Emma, but I didn’t care at that moment. My Uber driver was more than happy to meet me in the parking lot in the back. I slipped in.

  “Hi, I’m Taylor.” he greeted cheerfully. “You’re going to the airport, right?”

  “Yes,” I said, slinking down into my seat. “Please just go.”

  “No problem, ma’am,” he said driving off. “I should have you there in about 40 minutes. It’s nice and early. We should beat the traffic.”

  I was crying in the back seat. I couldn’t help it.

  “Is everything okay?” asked Taylor.

  He seemed like a nice kid. Maybe a little dopey, but genuine. Like Chris Pratt’s character in Parks and Rec. I was tempted to ignore him and just tell him to keep driving, but I really wanted someone to talk to me.

  “No,” I wept. “I’m running away.”

  “From your problems?” he asked. “Yeah, I did that once. Now I drive Uber in Los Angeles.”

  “Where are you from originally?” I asked.

  “Iowa,” he said. “It was hard to make money on Uber there. People were nice though. I had a girlfriend. She cheated on me, so I left.”

  “Do you miss your family?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I should call them,” he said.

  “You didn’t tell them you were leaving?” I said.

  “No, I just cut out. I couldn’t take the humiliation,” he said. “When Becky started cheating on me, it was like a knife in my heart. My family are the kind of people that like to twist it.”

  “Jesus Christ. Taylor. They must think you’re dead.” I said.

  “Nah,” he dismissed. “But what the hell else would they think? You just disappeared!” I exclaimed.

  Taylor drove in silence for a few second. He was finally putting the pieces together.

  “Oh, my God,” he gasped. “Oh, my God. You’re right!”

  “You have to call them right now. They’re probably worried sick.” I told him.

  Taylor grabbed his phone and the car swerved.

  “Pull over first.” I reminded him.

  “Yeah-yeah,” he agreed pulling over.

  He was about to dial, when he stopped.

  “I-I-I don’t know what to tell them,” he said.

  “You have to tell them the truth,” I said. “It’ll be a mess for a little while, but they’re you’re family.”

  “But you’re running away from your family. I assume, so why shouldn’t I just keep running. That’s what you’re doing,” he pointed out.

  He had me there. I was just abandoning Emma and running home with my tail between my legs. Even worse, Steven would probably take his revenge on me. Raising my rent and driving me out of business. Everyone would be mad. I’d be all alone again.

  “Okay, if you take me back to the hotel, I’ll face my fears,” I said. “But you call your family.”

  “Okay,” he said getting ready to dial.

  “Maybe drive me back first so I don’t have to sit here.” I suggested. “I think it’s going to be a long phone call.”

  Taylor drove me back to the hotel. I got out of the car, prepared to face my fears. I watched him dial and start talking on the phone. He appeared to get upset, embarrassed, but eventually he smiled.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for me either.

  Later, I met Emma in the hotel restaurant for breakfast. We hit the buffet and drank coffee and planned strategy. We decided to get there at least an hour early, so right after breakfast we hopped an Uber to the studio.

  “I think you can win this, Honey,” said Emma. “I believe in you.”

  “Thanks Emma,” I said. “You’ve been a real friend. Win or lose, I’m glad I have you.”

  We walked in and made our way to the set. Ethan and Clark were in their kitchens getting set up as well. I made eye contact with each of them, but we avoided talking. Deep down, I wanted to patch things up between us. I wanted to keep seeing both of them, if that were possible. But the only way a chef respects you is to best them in a
kitchen battle. And that’s exactly what I planned to do.

  It was no shock when Sandra walked onto the stage as host. This was her idea and just like Rita, she was another cut throat TV host looking for her way up the ladder. Rita was yesterday’s news.

  “Hello everyone,” she smiled to the cameras. “And welcome to a very special edition of Baker Battles. Today we have a very different battle. Our two judges, Chefs Ethan Jones and Clark Peterson will be competing instead of judging. Their challenger is none other than Honey Davidson, who called the Baker Battles program rigged and a complete sham.”

  “Did you actually say that?” asked Emma.

  “No,” I said. “She’s taking me out of context. I would expect nothing less.”

  “How will we judge the food, you ask? The studio audience will be the judge.” said Sandra.

  At this point, the audience went nuts, hooting and applauding themselves. It was the ultimate in television narcissism.

  “Inside this drum is a list of over two hundred audience suggestions written on pieces of paper. We will now roll the drum and I will pick one at random. Then our chefs will begin. They’ll have twenty minutes to make their recipes. Chefs, are you ready?” she asked, extending the drama.

  We all acknowledged that we were. Sandra spun the drum a few times, then opened the door, closed her eyes and took out a piece of paper. She read it to the audience.

  “The pastry for tonight’s battle is…honey buns.” she announced.

  I almost laughed out loud. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? Had Steven rigged it all so I would win in the end? Was he trying to drag me back onto the show? Oh, my God. That’s exactly what would create more drama.

  “This will be easy,” said Emma slyly.

  “Maybe because it’s supposed to be,” I whispered. “The guys must know this is my specialty. They can’t beat me on honey buns.”

  “They are chefs,” said Emma. “They might beat you. They might create some honey infused, cilantro thing from Peru. You don’t know.”

  “Something is fishy,” I said. “Keep your eyes open. Maybe the fix is in.”

  “But if it’s in for you, who cares? Take the win and then go home with a victory,” she suggested.

  “I don’t trust our producer,” I whispered, looking over to him. “He’s up to something.”

  We got to baking and it was a breeze. Emma already new the recipe by heart, so all I had to do was make sure the ingredients were legit and the right amounts were being used. We were calmly mixing things, but every once in a while I looked up over at the boys. They cooked, but their hearts didn’t seem in it. They both had this forlorn look on their faces. I had to believe that they didn’t want to go along with this. At the very least, they were torn about the entire competition.

  Sandra, however, kept turning up the heat.

  “Who will win in this unique match up of chefs? Ethan? Clark? Or their rumored lover, Honey? And, should Ethan or Clark win, will they also win Honey’s heart? Or will she go home alone? This is Baker Battles. Find out what happens next after these messages.” said Sandra enthusiastically.

  The lights dimmed and just like Rita, so did Sandra. I don’t know how either of them put up with their rollercoaster of emotions each day. They had to be constantly “up” for the camera, even when they were having a bad day. It didn’t seem like it would be good for a person mentally.

  Sandra did bring up a good point. Could I choose? The answer was a resounding no. I had to admit, I loved both of them. And it seemed like a few fleeting moments, they both loved me. Why couldn’t that work? Why couldn’t the three of us be together and cook and love? Was it so strange? Ethan had grown up in France. It wasn’t so strange in that country.

  For a moment, I imagined the boys working in my bakery. It was a much a larger bakery with massive counters. There would be a little coffee shop and there was a station to make sandwiches, soups and other gourmet delights. We’d open for the breakfast crowd, close after lunch and have the evenings to ourselves. With our recipes, the bakery would practically run itself and we’d have a huge staff. Emma would be there too. It would be so great.

  But I had to imagine, Steven would be very much against it. He wouldn’t want to lose his too stars to me, but that’s exactly what was happening. He may have used me to drive a wedge between them, but it brought us closer together. I just had to figure out how to win.

  Chapter 19

  Clark

  As I watch Honey cooking with Emma at her station, I couldn’t help but feel bad how we left things. I think I’m falling in love with her and I don’t care if I do have to share her with Ethan. As long as I can be with her, that would be enough.

  I looked over at Ethan. Was he really such a bad guy? I gave him a ton of shit for being raised French, but he usually took it all in good humor. Could some of this be Steven’s fault? Could it all be his doing? All this time, could he be manipulating us just as he manipulated reality on the show?

  I don’t really care who wins this stupid competition. As long as I can be with Honey, that’s all that matters. But if either Ethan or I win, that could greatly upset the dynamic of our three way relationship. I had an idea, but it was risky.

  “Hold up. Stop.” I shouted. “I want to change the rules a little.”

  “You what?” said Sandra. “You can’t change the rules in the middle of a competition.”

  “I think it would be more fair if Ethan and I worked together. The two of us against Honey,” I explained. “What do you say audience?”

  Steven came rushing out of the control room. I think he was about to shut the whole thing down, but when the audience applauded he stopped. He couldn’t argue with the reaction. The audience loved the idea, as I knew they would. They pretty much would dare you to destroy your own show. Audiences are, ultimately, self destructive. They’re like kids with a toy, eventually they’ll just break you in half to see what’s inside.

  Sandra looked around shocked, unsure of what to do. Steven looked frustrated.

  “Okay, sure,” she smiled her fake plastic smile. “Why not? Ethan and Clark together versus Honey. Any other rule changes or are you okay from here?”

  “I’m good,” I said.

  “What the Hell are you doing?” asked Ethan. “I don’t need help.”

  “I want to prove to Honey that we can work together,” I whispered. “I think it’s important. Now are you going to do it or not.”

  “All right, fine,” he agreed. “Hand me that butter.”

  “We’re good,” I assured Sandra. “Ethan and I want to show the world that can we can work together.”

  Honey smiled, pleased with the idea.

  “Any objections from this side?” asked Sandra.

  “No,” said Honey.

  As I looked over, I could see Steven fuming at me. He did not like the idea. Was Honey right about him? How could I have been so stupid? Steven had been my friend for years, I thought. I had to admit, he was always compartmentalizing everything and everyone on the show.

  That was pretty standard in show business. We didn’t know how much money everyone made or anything. But for Steven to actually pit us against one another? That was pretty low. All this time, Ethan and I could’ve been working as friends instead of acting like enemies.

  I once tried to broker a peace between Ethan and I when our fighting got particularly bad last season. I remembered that Steven positioned himself as the go between. At one point, I had texted Ethan. We went back and forth, and he seemed pretty reasonable, but when I involved Steven then Ethan suddenly became incredibly unreasonable. Ethan wasn’t the problem. Steven was.

  Steven had talked in meetings about turning up the heat on contestants. About trying to incite them to fight or sabotage each other. Ethan and I shot the idea down, but it happened anyway, two shows later. Did Steven instigate that on his own just for the ratings? And what else would he do for ratings? Would he pretend to be my friend? Would he manipulate me? Would he g
et me fired just for a ratings boost? As I looked at him standing on the sidelines, the answer was obvious. He’d do anything for the show.

  “It’s all about the show,” he used to say. “Hey, I’m an advocate for you, but mostly I’m an advocate for this show. So you don’t you worry. I will get you ratings at any cost, babe.”

  “At any cost” kept ringing in my head. And as long as Ethan and I were fighting, we’d never compare notes. If he were telling different things to each one of us, how would we know? He wouldn’t tell us, and we didn’t talk. And even when we did, there’s was nothing but mistrust. So even if one of Steven’s lies became evident, either Ethan would conclude I was a liar or I would do the same to him.

  Should I sabotage our honey buns? No, that wouldn’t prove anything. That would make us less credible in the eyes of the audience. If Honey was going to win this thing, she had to do it on her own. I had to get Ethan to see what I was seeing. Steven was a snake and he didn’t have our best interest in mind. He was like a amoral robot that only worked for the show and the studio. As long as the show made money, he’d say or do anything to keep it that way.

  “Ethan, we have to talk,” I whispered, as I mixed the dough.

  “It’s the wrong time, Clark,” he said. “You said you wanted to help me, not talk.”

  “I think Honey may be right about Steven,” I whispered. “Haven’t you thought about what she said?”

  “Yes,” he said reluctantly. “But I didn’t want to believe it.”

  “Hey guys.” said Sandra suddenly. “How’s the baking going on over here?”

  “It’s going fine, Sandra,” I said. “We’re just getting things ready.”

  “Think you’re going to win this thing? Maybe run away with it?” she said hopefully.

  “We’ll see,” said Ethan, already tired of her questions.

  Chapter 20

  Ethan

  American television was full of these stone face smilers like Sandra. How did she live with herself? Her empty headed questions had nothing to do with cuisine and everything to do with the “drama” on the show. How I loathed her and all like her. This entire enterprise was starting to loose its allure.