A Taste of Fame

by Linda Evans Shepherd

  “Sure, let me.”

  After slipping the rolls into my oven, I looked out the kitchen window to see a red pickup pull up in the driveway. Wasn’t that Donna with Wade and little Pete? I walked to the front door and watched Donna scamper up the front steps. She was looking good these days, since her dreadful, cropped hairdo had finally grown into flattering blonde curls.

  Donna was a tiny, feisty thing, and her too-short hair had been her way of looking tough in her role as a sheriff’s deputy. But even that bad haircut hadn’t been able to hide her natural beauty. In fact, Donna, much to her chagrin, was the dream girl of most of the single men in these parts. Now that she was finally starting to recover from some difficult losses, she’d even ventured into the dating game.

  I gave Donna a hug and watched Wade’s truck disappear down the street. “Wade dropped you off?” I asked nonchalantly.

  “Yeah, he’s been over at my house with his cousin Pete. Pete had to interview someone in law enforcement for a class project. He’s in summer school, you know.”

  “It wasn’t a date?” I asked.

  “I don’t date twelve-year-olds,” she said with a laugh.

  “But Wade’s not twelve,” I teased.

  “No, he’s not. We go out sometimes, though I do have a date with David this Friday.”

  “Really?” I winced as I realized my enthusiasm showed. I had to be careful. Though Donna was like my own daughter, I couldn’t interfere. She had to make up her own mind when it came to matters of her heart.

  Donna smiled and handed me a jar of cinnamon-flavored applesauce as she pulled off her leather jacket to reveal that she was wearing her standard black jeans with matching tee. She was looking … what did the young people say? Hot.

  “How are you going to get home?”

  “I’ll catch a ride with Lizzie,” she said.

  Lisa Leann swooped up the jar of applesauce and was busying herself in the kitchen, putting the contents into a bowl, when the door blew open once again. I ran back to see Mrs. Evangeline Vesey holding her “in a pinch” rice dish. “Sorry I’m late,” she huffed. “Had to make Vernon’s dinner.”

  Donna looked surprised. “My dad can cook.”

  “If you like grilled cheese every night,” Evie said with a hint of a smile. “Good thing I’m finally there to change all that.”

  Donna pasted on a hard smile. These two had their troubles, but Donna had the good sense to play nice with her new stepmom.

  Evie followed me to the girls, who were already gathering around the table. Goldie was just pulling her rolls out from the oven and placing them into my linen-covered basket.

  “Lisa Leann, what’s the big emergency?” Evie said as she sat at the table.

  “Let’s pray first,” Lisa Leann said. We all settled down, and Lisa Leann bowed her head. “Lord, have mercy on us,” she said.

  So help me, I peeked and caught Evie’s startled expression. She raised her eyebrows at me as if to ask, Do you know what this is about? I shook my head and closed my eyes again.

  Lisa Leann continued. “Please, Lord, please!”

  After the “Amen,” there was a long silence as the girls stared at Lisa Leann, one of the strongest women we’d ever known. But there she sat, pale and shaken. “What is it?” Lizzie cried. “Is Henry leaving you?”

  Lisa Leann shook her head. “No, no. Let’s eat and then I’ll explain in a moment.”

  Since I was sitting next to Lisa Leann, I leaned in and whispered, “This doesn’t have anything to do with a TV reality show, does it?”

  Lisa Leann sputtered a cough and grabbed her napkin to cover her face. “You’ll know soon enough,” she said.

  Donna, who was sitting to my left, asked me in a low voice, “What did you say to her?”

  I hesitated. “I think I’d better let her explain.”

  Forty minutes later, I’d poured the flavored coffee while Evie and Lisa Leann moved my oak kitchen chairs to the living room for our business meeting. Once we’d settled in, Lizzie and Goldie served everyone a plate with a generous slice of Mississippi mud cake, while Donna and I followed with steaming mugs of coffee.

  Lisa Leann stood unsteadily before us, looking like someone had wiped all the blush off her cheeks. She put on a brave face. “Girls, I have good news.”

  Evie stuck her fork in her cake and piped, “I thought this was some sort of emergency?”

  “It all depends on the perspective you choose to take,” Lisa Leann said. “I like to think of this as a chance for us to raise a million dollars for the building fund at church.”

  I plopped my coffee so hard onto the coffee table it sloshed on my napkin. “This is about that reality show. What’s it called?”

  “The Great Party Showdown,” Lisa Leann said. She reached under her chair and pulled out her briefcase, then pulled out a batch of packets, which she passed around the table.

  Evie was already balking. “A reality show? You’ve got to be kidding. You’d never catch me on something like that.”

  Lisa Leann walked over to the TV and flipped on the switch. “I hate to hear you say that, Evie, because tonight you’re a star!”

  Evie’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  A preview for the show popped onto the screen, and sure enough, there was Evie’s face, smudged with a bit of flour as she pounded a huge ball of dough in my bridal shop kitchen. That same sexy voice I’d heard earlier said, “How will the Colorado church ladies of Team Potluck fare in their battle against the Wild Cajun Cooks of Baton Rouge?”

  A team of men dressed in long white aprons sporting the name “Wild Cajun Cooks” appeared on the screen. One fellow, whose white chef’s hat read “Bubba,” looked like he’d had a few too many. Bubba sipped a beer before pouring the remains into a bubbling pot, then whooped for the camera. The voice continued as pictures of the other teams flashed on the screen. “Or our other competitors? Stay tuned for an all-out food war on The Great Party Showdown, coming up next.”

  Lizzie asked, “Wasn’t that clip from Allen and Becky’s wedding?”

  Lisa Leann nodded as Donna rose to her feet, her hand on her hip, like she was reaching for her gun. “What’s the meaning of this? We didn’t sign up for any reality show.”

  “Calm down, everyone,” Lisa Leann said. “I can explain.”

  “Well, you’d better,” Evie said.

  “Remember when my son Nelson was here with his fancy video camera? It was state of the art, just like the kind they sometimes use on TV reality shows. His dad and I had bought it for him on eBay to use for a marketing class at U Texas.”

  “But how did his footage get on that program?” Evie asked. She leaned back in her chair as she knitted her brows into one long line of worry.

  “Evie, I’m getting to that. Like he said, Nelson sent the footage to this reality show as part of his assignment. You might recall we each signed off on it. Though I don’t think any of us thought something like this could actually happen.”

  Ever the legal secretary, Goldie recovered her voice to ask, “But I didn’t sign my permission.”

  Lisa Leann pulled out a packet of papers from her briefcase and held it up. “Actually, I have a copy of it. Don’t you remember signing the waiver and other paperwork for Nelson?”

  Goldie reached for the papers. “Well, yes, but … it was part of his class assignment.” She studied her signature. “I guess I didn’t read the fine print.”

  Lisa Leann shrugged. “None of us did.”

  Just then, the commercials ended and the musical intro for the show started as all eyes fixed on the television.

  I felt my stomach do a flip-flop.

  What had Lisa Leann gotten us into this time?

  Donna

  3

  Catered Comedy

  As we finished the vanilla lattes Vonnie had made from my special homemade mix, Gianne Gillian looked into the camera, her blue eyes twinkling. “America, I hope you’ve come hungry,” she said. “Our ten catering teams fr
om around the country are about to whip up a party, and you’re invited. Find out which team can outcook, outcater, and outparty the other teams. America, it’s up to you to say which teams stay in the competition. What’s at stake? For starters, our winning team receives a cool million dollars plus a one-hundred-thousand-dollar kitchen makeover by Fridgnetic.”

  The girls and I exchanged glances. “Think church building program,” Lisa Leann said in a stage whisper, to which Vonnie added, “Here’s to a new youth wing.”

  Gianne continued. “But first, America, let’s meet The Great Party Showdown judges. First up, meet Teresa Juliette, star of her own cooking show, Teresa Sizzles. Welcome to the show, Teresa.”

  Amid thunderous applause, a plump African-American woman glimmered in a sparkling chef’s hat that topped off a matching white coat dress. She waved a white sequined spatula at the crowd. “Thank you, it’s good to be here.”

  “Teresa, can you tell us the role of the judges on the show?”

  “We can’t vote off the contestants,” Teresa said. “We’re only here to offer America our expert opinions.”

  “Very good,” Gianne said. She stepped over to a small man with beady blue eyes. “Next, meet Brant Richards, our British import, and famous chef and party planner in his own right. Brant has been quoted as saying, ‘Nothing of good taste and nothing that tastes good comes from America.’ ”

  The crowd booed, and Brant held up his hands as if to greet cheers. With his British flair, he said, “Mine is a discriminating palate.”

  Gianne asked, “Do you expect to see a team you’ll approve of? ”

  “If you put it that way, no.”

  Gianne stepped to the right. “Well, then, America, meet Isabelle Salazar, a popular Brazilian party planner and caterer.”

  A spicy young woman in a black cocktail dress jumped to her feet and vibrated like an excited puppy as she let out her trademark “Muito bom, baby!”

  The crowd went wild with applause, and Gianne stepped back into the shot. “My goodness, Isabelle, you seem excited to be here.”

  “Food and parties are my life,” Isabelle shouted into the camera, waving her hands above her head.

  “I wonder what she’s on?” I asked as the girls twittered.

  “Who knows,” Evangeline answered.

  “Personally? I’d like to administer a breathalyzer.”

  Lisa Leann winked at me. “Well, if we make it through the next couple of rounds, maybe you’ll get your chance.”

  “Does that mean we might actually go to Hollywood?” Vonnie asked.

  Lisa Leann shook her head. “Nope, this show is broadcast live from New York City.”

  Goldie gasped. “New York City?”

  Lisa Leann shrugged. “It wouldn’t be for a couple of weeks.” She shushed us as the camera panned back to Gianne for a close-up. “Coming up, can the ladies of Team Potluck really stir it up? Stay tuned.”

  When the commercials started, Vonnie said, “Oh dear, I’m so nervous I’m shaking.”

  Evangeline, who was sitting in Fred’s recliner, reached for her hand and gave it a little squeeze, then shot a stern look at Lisa Leann. “Vonnie, I know just how you feel,” she said.

  Lisa Leann’s cell phone blasted Sandi Patty singing “Majesty,” and she answered. “Hello? Nelson? Yes, sweetheart, we’re all watching. What’s that? A warning?” She was silent for a moment, then said, “Okay, thanks for letting me know. Oh, did you talk to your dad? Oh, okay. Talk to you after the show.”

  She hung up. I turned to her. “Warning?”

  “Nelson wanted me to know that he may be providing some of the commentary introducing our team members. He hopes no one gets too upset.”

  “How bad can it be?” I asked. “Nelson lives in Austin. He barely knows us.”

  “That’s not true, Donna,” Evangeline said. “He was here over spring break helping with the wedding. Besides, he knows whatever his mother told him.”

  We all turned and stared at Lisa Leann. “Listen, I don’t know what he said on camera, but he just used the word embellished. He said he’s sorry, he never thought the footage would go to air. He was just trying to be funny and get a good grade.”

  Vonnie asked, “But he was behind the camera, so how could he film himself?”

  “His tripod,” Lisa Leann answered before turning back to stare at another TV commercial for insurance.

  I decided to get comfortable, so I stretched out on the floor with my hands cupping my head, looking up at the screen as the theme music of the show started to play. Gianne said, “Meet Team Potluck from the Colorado high country.” Nelson’s face appeared on the screen. He was a fresh-faced college kid, handsome with his green eyes and blond hair. He was wearing a waiter’s uniform, and the wedding reception was in full swing behind him. “I’m not really part of Team Potluck. I’m just helping out,” he said. Suddenly a wide shot of several of us Potluckers appeared as we scrambled in studio-enhanced fast motion to set up the buffet while music from the Keystone Cops played in the background. A breeze had picked up, so when the footage slowed back to normal, there I was under the table, taping the edges of the tablecloth down with duct tape. I looked at the camera and smiled. “This ought to hold her,” I said. The camera cut back to Nelson. “That’s Deputy Donna. She’s the hottest chick on the team, and the word on the street is she knows a lot about duct tape and has used it to subdue a few criminals.”

  I sat up. “What?”

  The camera cut back to Wade helping me carry the wedding cake to one of the tables. Honestly, he looked like Brad Pitt in a waiter’s uniform. The voiceover continued. “Wade is one of the deputy’s boyfriends.” Wade put a dot of icing on my nose, and I playfully hit him with a fist.

  I groaned.

  Another clip showed me carrying the punch bowl with Vonnie’s son David, who happens to be an Enrique Iglesias look-alike. Nelson said, “But then again, there’s David.”

  More footage showed David whispering something in my ear, and I laughed. Nelson piped up, “So as we can see, though the woman carries a gun, it certainly doesn’t scare off the guys around here. Though rumor is she’s had to use that gun more than once.”

  I flopped back on the floor and stared up at Vonnie’s ceiling. “No, no, no, this isn’t happening.”

  Vonnie leaned down from her recliner and patted my shoulder. “It could have been worse, dear,” she said, as if that were any consolation.

  Just then the camera focused briefly on Becky dressed in a flowing white gown as she clutched a bouquet of silk wildflowers and headed down the aisle to meet her groom, who was dressed in a black tux. The next shot was of Vonnie, who was grinning from ear to ear as she straightened the gold table runner down the buffet table. She was a cute, plump grandma, her round cheeks pink beneath her white hair, which fluffed in curls around her face. Nelson said, “Meet Vonnie Sunshine—she’s the happy pill of Team Potluck.”

  Vonnie put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, dear!”

  The next few shots of Vonnie showed her in a hugging frenzy— hugging Donna, then David, then Lisa Leann, then Evie, Wade, the bride, the groom, Lizzie, and even Nelson, who crossed his eyes then winked.

  Nelson’s face came back on the screen. “It’s said they didn’t have to use sugar in the wedding cake.” The wedding cake, perched on a linen-covered table with the gorgeous Colorado Rockies in the background, appeared on the screen. “Vonnie only had to put her finger in the batter to sweeten it.” The last frame was of Vonnie’s face in full grin, with the special effect of sparkles bouncing off her pearly whites as chimes played.

  Vonnie closed her eyes to block out the image as the camera panned to Lisa Leann. Nelson said, “This is the little lady known as Lisa Leann, and I can only say nice things about her because she’s my mom and, well, she’s the brains of this outfit.“ The camera showed Lisa Leann hugging Nelson, and he leaned down and kissed the top of her red hair.

  “So moving on, let’s talk about Dizzy Lizzy.”
One shot after the other showed Lizzy turning and pointing as she helped direct traffic. Nelson said, “The only reason this ol’ gal’s dizzy is because the other team members rely on her so much.”

  Nelson continued, “Next up, meet our golden girl, Goldie the Goalie.” One clip after the other showed Goldie tossing items to team members: a rolled-up pink apron, a roll of paper towels, a fat candle still packaged in cellophane, even a camera.

  Goldie shrieked. “Do I really do that?”

  We all turned to her and replied as one, “Yes.”

  “That’s what I get for marrying a high school coach,” she muttered.

  Then the camera focused on Evie, whom I noticed was beginning to glow from a light perspiration. “Next, meet the woman some folks call Evil Evie,” Nelson said. The camera zoomed in to show Evie frowning, then panned back to show her hands on her hips. “But I say she’s really not all that bad, just occasionally grumpy. So judges, be warned.”

  Evie squealed. “How could Nelson say such a thing? Everyone knows I’m as sweet as pie.”

  I shot her a look and nodded. I kept quiet so I wouldn’t sound insincere. Vonnie Sunshine patted her leg. “Of course you are.”

  Now the camera panned to show all our wonderful dishes displayed in their full glory while we, the smiling ladies of the club, minus Lizzie, stood by ready to serve. There was a succulent roast beef royally displayed, baby carrots in a light yellow sauce, fresh homemade rolls, gravy, fruit salad, and so much more.

  Lisa Leann narrated the menu while a smiling Nelson helped by lifting lids, then tasting each dish on a china plate.

  His face filled the screen. “Really, this is delicious.” The camera zoomed even closer, and he whispered, “Mom paid me to say that.”

  The screen faded to black, and I was surprised that our three-and-a-half minutes of fame was already over. It was amazing the producers were able to show so much in such short, zippy clips. Gianne appeared with Teresa Juliette, who held her glittering spatula as if it were a scepter. Gianne asked, “What do you think of Team Potluck, Teresa?”