Some Like It Spicy

by Robbie Terman

  “Why?” He shrugged. “That’s who you really are. Not the woman I’ve been with the last few weeks.”

  “No,” she said, feeling like she could throw up. “That’s not me.”

  “Sure it is. You’re the woman who doesn’t take responsibility for her actions. I saw it in that first challenge when you wouldn’t even budge on the suggestion that your sandwich needed more salt.”

  “Because it didn’t!” she shouted.

  He laughed, but it was hollow. “You fight everyone, you blame everyone, because you’re too afraid to confront the person you’re really angry at.”

  “Oh, yeah? And who’s that?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Your father.”

  It was as if he’d punched her in the gut. The oxygen left her lungs and she wheezed, unable to catch her breath. She bent in half as she gasped for air.

  “Ashton.” She could hear the concern in his voice as he put a hand to her back, but she swatted him away.

  “Don’t touch me.” She staggered to the front door.

  “Ashton,” he said again.

  She couldn’t look back at him. She reached for the doorknob. “We’re through.”

  Before he could say anything, she bolted out the door and down the stairs. Seeing a cab, she flung herself into the street, nearly getting hit.

  “Are you crazy, lady?” the driver screamed out the window.

  She searched through a haze of tears for the handle. Somehow, she managed to make it inside the dingy interior.

  “Where to?” the driver asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

  Good question. She couldn’t bear to go back to the brownstone and face the mob of reporters. Maybe to a motel, but the idea of such solitude seemed crushing.

  She wanted to go home. No doubt all her appearances had been canceled, and Sally could tell her she was off the show just as easily in Chicago as New York.

  The decision made, she answered the driver. “LaGuardia, please.”

  …

  Ty didn’t know what had happened. One minute, they’d been holding onto each other for dear life, the next they were throwing verbal daggers. They’d both hit their marks, and he, at least, was bleeding out.

  He sank down on the couch, his head in his hands. Somehow, stupidly, he’d thought they’d be able to weather the scandal together. Somehow, stupidly, he’d thought she loved him back.

  Why had he thrown her father in her face? What he said was true, no doubt, but she was in as much denial about that as she was that they’d just had a casual fling.

  But he’d been so angry with her, especially when she’d called him her “fuck buddy.” Maybe he had an issue with anger, too.

  Now that his career was over, he’d have a lot of time to think. Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. His career as a celebrity chef was over. And wasn’t that what he’d wanted? Now he could go back to Atlanta, where he belonged. Maybe the woman he’d been searching for was there.

  But in his heart, he knew he belonged to Ashton.

  He heard the door creak open and footsteps in the entryway. Relief rushed through him, thinking Ashton had returned. Instead, Scott tiptoed in the room.

  “Is that your attempt to be quiet?” Ty growled.

  “It was more an attempt to sneak past you if you were crying. Are you crying, man?”

  A chuckle bubbled within him. “Not yet. Where are Ellen and Laci?”

  “They’re still across the street at the park. We saw Ashton get into a cab. She didn’t look good.”

  “Was she crying?”

  Scott nodded. “Yeah. She was crying.”

  Ty put a hand to his chest as if he could hold in the pain. He hated the thought of her alone and upset. He doubted she’d take his call, but he’d check up on her later through Jolene.

  “It didn’t go well, did it?” Scott asked.

  “Was it that obvious?” Sarcasm oozed from Ty’s voice.

  Scott, as usual, took it in stride. “You need a beer.” He left the room for a minute and then returned with two cans.

  “Thanks.” Ty accepted the can, popped the top, and took a long draw. “It’s over. Between Ashton and me. And probably between every one of my current contracts and me. Vic’s called about forty times. I haven’t answered.”

  “Do you want it to be over? Between you and Ashton?”

  Ty glared at his friend. “I screwed people who work for me, people who trusted me. I’m probably about to swim neck-deep in breach-of-contract lawsuits and you think Ashton is the only thing on my mind?”

  “Without a doubt,” Scott answered.

  Ty fell back against the cushions. “Well, you’re right, you bastard. I screwed up everything I’ve worked for, and all I can think about is her.”

  “You love her,” Scott said simply.

  “What does that matter,” Ty asked bitterly, “if she doesn’t love me back?”

  “She does,” Scott assured him. “She just might not know it yet.”

  “So where does that leave me?”

  Scott patted him awkwardly on the knee. “With a broken heart.”

  …

  Ashton knocked on the door and held her breath. Her heart raced as she waited. Finally, she heard the sound of footsteps. As the lock turned, her heart, if possible, beat even faster.

  “Hi,” Ashton said quietly.

  Jenna stared at her for a minute and then opened her arms.

  Breaking into sobs, she flung herself at her friend, crying as if the world were ending. And in a way, it was.

  “Come in,” Jenna murmured against her hair. She managed to keep one arm around Ashton as she led her to the couch and they both sat down.

  “I’m so sorry.” Ashton wept onto Jenna’s shoulder, acutely aware that she was drowning an expensive silk blouse from Neiman Marcus.

  “I know,” Jenna soothed, stroking Ashton’s hair. “And we’ll work this out together. You’re not alone.”

  “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.” Ashton sniffled. “I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me again.”

  “I was angry,” Jenna admitted. “But there is nothing you could do that would ever make me stop talking to you indefinitely. I just needed some time to cool down.”

  “I ruined everything,” Ashton said. “We’re going to have to close the restaurant now.” A new batch of tears streamed down her cheek. “I’ve lost all your money.”

  “Restaurants are a risky business. Chloe and I knew the challenges when we went into business with you.”

  Ashton lifted her head so she could look Jenna in the eyes. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

  Jenna tilted her head. “You didn’t fail me or Chloe or yourself. You fell in love.”

  “It wasn’t love, it was sex, and while the Earth may have moved, it wasn’t worth the pain it caused.”

  “The Earth moved? Really?” Jenna raised an eyebrow. “And you say it wasn’t love?”

  Ashton swallowed hard. “No.”

  “What about Ty? What does he have to say about all this? Did you talk to him?”

  Ashton nodded. “We got into a fight about it. He had the audacity to say…” She waved her hands in the air. “He claims I get angry and blame my problems on people because I don’t have the guts to confront my father.” She snorted in disgust. “Ridiculous, right? We’re through.”

  “You broke up with Ty,” Jenna said slowly. “Because you had a fight.”

  “What? No.” Ashton stared at Jenna. “I broke up with him because it was just supposed to be a fling.”

  “If it was a fling, you wouldn’t be this upset. If it was a fling, you wouldn’t have even bothered fighting with him. You would have just ended it. Ashton, why can’t you admit you’re in love with Ty, and that he’s right?”

  “Right?” Anger simmered within her. “So you think I blame everyone else for my problems?”

  “I think you have misdirected anger,” Jenna said carefully. “You’ve never confronted your
father, so you take it out on everyone else. And if someone dares to say something back, you cut him or her out of your life.”

  Ashton opened her mouth to reply, to let Jenna know her theory was ridiculous, but the words wouldn’t come out. Because Jenna was right. She slumped against the cushion and put her face in her hands. “I’m a mess.”

  She felt Jenna’s arms come back around her. “Yes, you are. But we love you anyway. And I’m guessing, so does Ty. Don’t be so quick to give up on him, Ash.”

  Ashton’s heart throbbed painfully. “I don’t know if he can forgive me.”

  “You won’t know unless you ask.”

  “I’ll think about it. Right now, I doubt I’ll even have the chance to see him again. I’m probably getting kicked off the show.”

  “You don’t know that. And that has nothing to do with you talking to Ty.”

  “I can’t think about this right now,” Ashton said. “Let’s call Chloe. I’m in desperate need of chocolate.”

  Chloe arrived with a buffet of chocolate: cakes, cookies, cupcakes, truffles. They ate until they were sick. Ashton was almost grateful for the stomachache replacing the pain in her chest.

  She decided to sleep on Jenna’s couch rather than going home; she doubted the paparazzi had followed her from New York, but she wasn’t willing to take the risk.

  Her phone ringing at seven in the morning woke her from her sugar coma. Blindly, she grabbed at her phone and held it up to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Ashton.” It was Sally.

  Ashton sat straight up, instantly awake. “Yes.”

  “You’re not off the show.”

  Ashton inhaled swiftly. She couldn’t have heard right. “What?”

  “Initially, the vote was unanimous to kick you off and bring back Duffy,” Sally told her. “Then we got word that our website had over two million hits after the video of you and Ty was released.”

  Ashton dropped back against the pillow. Two million hits!

  “We also found out that several websites that play our past episodes crashed because so many people were trying to watch them.”

  “I don’t believe this.” Ashton let out a long breath.

  “People love a good scandal,” Sally said. “Our publicity department has also been bombarded with calls about you two. The higher-ups decided we were getting too much publicity to let you go. Andrea fought against it, but the bosses think the last two episodes will be our highest rated of any show on the network. Ever.”

  “But…” Ashton cleared her throat. “Do you think it’s fair?”

  “What I think doesn’t matter. But yeah, it’ll be fair. Don’t forget, the judges have no say in the final winner; that’s up to viewers. So Ty won’t be in a position to decide whether you stay or go.”

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea.” The thought of spending the next week being picked at by press vultures churned her stomach. Or perhaps it was the thought of having to see Ty again.

  “You don’t get a choice.” Sally’s voice was clipped. “You have a contract.”

  Now she knew how Ty felt. Boxed in, with no escape.

  “We want to build as much anticipation as possible, so you’re not to give any press interviews, okay?”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Ashton said, relieved.

  “If people want answers, they’re going to have to tune in to the show. We’re going to need to move you out of the brownstone so you’re not attacked every time you leave.”

  “I’m in Chicago, actually,” she told Sally.

  “Perfect. Stay there. Filming for your home visit will still go on as scheduled. I’ll call you later in the week to set up details.”

  “Okay. ’Bye.” Ashton hung up the phone.

  She closed her eyes and tried to fall back asleep, but her mind was too restless. Finally, she got dressed and headed to the restaurant. Whenever her problems seemed overwhelming, cooking offered her an escape. This early in the morning, Chloe would be the only one in the kitchen, so Ashton wouldn’t have to face the stares and questions from her staff.

  She let herself in the back door and walked into the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked bread permeated the air, but Chloe was nowhere in sight.

  “Chloe,” she called.

  “Out here,” Chloe called from the front of the house.

  Ashton pushed through the door into the dining room. Chloe stood at the hostess stand, phone in one hand, furiously writing with the other.

  “What’s wrong?” Ashton asked with dread as Chloe put down the phone.

  “Nothing,” Chloe replied, a grin breaking out on her face. “Unless you call sixty-four messages for reservations a problem.”

  The blood drained from Ashton’s head so fast, she had to sink into a chair. “Are you serious?”

  “Yup,” Chloe said, nodding. “You may have saved the restaurant after all.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  By the end of the week, Sweet Home was booked solid for two months. The phone rang incessantly, making it necessary for Jenna to hire part-time help to handle booking for the influx of reservations. Ashton lost herself in her work, arriving early at the restaurant and staying late to plan specials. The exhaustion was better than thinking about Ty or the upcoming challenge.

  Finally, she could no longer avoid either. The day of the challenge had arrived. Based on her and Jolene’s performances during their home visits, the viewers would decide the winner.

  Sally had arranged with Ashton’s mother for a crew to come in the day before and set up the dining room. Ashton would be cooking for the three judges, her parents, and Jenna and Chloe. Of course it was expected that the family would give rave reviews to the chef; the point of the challenge was really to make the chef comfortable and to make viewers want to invite her into their homes.

  Ashton hadn’t slept the night before, in part to plan her menu, and in part because she didn’t want to dream of Ty. Too often the past week when she shut her eyes, he would appear. Tonight, she’d get the real thing.

  Not only would she be serving her meal at her parents’ house, she would also be using their kitchen to cook. The filming would begin at the grocery store and follow her back to the house. She was also required to be more interactive with the camera, as if she were speaking to the audience. Speak? She prayed her nerves even allowed her to chop once the cameras began rolling.

  “Are you ready?” Chloe asked, coming out of her bedroom.

  Worried paparazzi might be stalking her place, Ashton had been avoiding her apartment. She’d traded Jenna’s couch for Chloe’s after she’d heard Hal complain about her presence. She knew Jenna wouldn’t have kicked her out, but she hadn’t wanted to be the cause of a fight between them. Even if Hal was an ass undeserving of Jenna.

  “Do I have a choice?” Ashton returned, checking to see that she had all her knives.

  “Not really.” Chloe gave a half smile. “Whatever happens, we’ll be right beside you.”

  “I know. Thanks.” Ashton gave Chloe a hug. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.”

  A van waited outside of Chloe’s apartment, and Ashton could see Sally in the passenger seat. A man whom she’d never seen sat in back, holding a camera.

  She took a deep breath and walked to the van. As she climbed in, Sally spoke without turning around. “This is Dave, our new cameraman.”

  “What happened to Clint?”

  “He was fired,” Sally said curtly and then turned to face Ashton. “He was the one who taped you and Ty and leaked it to the press.”

  “Why did he do it?” Ashton asked as the van pulled away from the curb.

  “You and Ty weren’t the only ones on set playing the mattress jig,” Sally said.

  The hairs on the back of her neck rose. “What do you mean?”

  Sally shrugged. “If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask Clint. Or Morgan.”

  Morgan? That conniving bitch! Ashton fisted her hands at her sides, wishing she could confront Mor
gan. But that would have to wait.

  Right now, she had other things to worry about.

  The van took her to a grocery store Ashton favored. Instead of racing around because of time constraints like usual, she took her time. She spoke to the camera, explaining why she used certain ingredients, how to tell if a product was fresh, even pointing out some of her favorite brands.

  She realized, as she pulled out coupons at the cash register to show that you could buy prime ingredients cheaply, that she’d become very comfortable on camera over the six weeks.

  Her confidence bolstered. She could do this. She could win.

  She repeated the litany over and over as she got in the van and gave directions to her parents’ home in nearby Schaumberg.

  As they drove, the skyscrapers gave way to malls and residential neighborhoods. The driver hung a right on Pleasant Avenue (the absurdity of the name always made Ashton want to gag), and then pulled into the circular drive of the third house.

  After the van drew to a stop, Ashton raised a shaky hand to the knob and pushed the door open. Perhaps she’d been living in a tiny apartment too long, but the house looked even grander now than it had when she’d been growing up. The white, Greek revival house, with its pediment gable ends, full-width porch, and classic columns looked like the American Dream, but Ashton was well aware of the nightmare inside.

  With one hand still on the knob, she turned to Sally. “Are you sure we have to do this here? We can use the restaurant.”

  Sally looked at her as if Ashton had just grown horns. “Are you kidding? I’ve been dying to meet your father. I’ve read all his books. He’s brilliant.”

  “He certainly thinks so,” Ashton muttered under her breath. “Okay, let’s just get this over with.”

  Her legs worked on a force disconnected from her brain, which was shouting at her to run and run far. When she made it to the door, she lifted a hand and knocked softly, as if hoping no one would hear and answer.

  “It’s your house,” Sally said impatiently. “Do you have to knock?”

  “Yes,” Ashton replied curtly. She’d stopped thinking of her parents’ home as hers when she’d left for culinary school—maybe even before that.