Skinnydipping

by Bethenny Frankel

  “Some of us have just enjoyed an excellent dinner, in good company. And the rest of you ought to try a little harder next time,” she said, as if she were in the room with us.

  “You all remember Ruby Prasad, executive food editor for Domestic Goddess Magazine. She’s back, and she’s going to tell you about your next challenge. Ruby?”

  Ruby pushed the pause button, freezing Sybil’s face into a sly, somewhat crooked expression. “Any Domestic Goddess knows that cooking for a big family isn’t much different than running a small restaurant. One of the latest trends on the culinary scene is the food truck. We want you to prove you can feed a family—a family of hungry New Yorkers during lunch hour in Times Square.”

  We all gasped. “For your next challenge, you will be divided into two teams of five. Each team will develop a concept for a food truck, plan a limited menu, design the advertising, buy enough food and supplies to stay open for four hours, from eleven a.m. to three p.m., and then, man your food truck for the designated time. The team that brings in the most money by three p.m. wins the challenge. The money you earn will be donated to the local food bank.” Ruby pointed the remote at the screen again, and pressed a button. Sybil’s frozen image moved again, and she spoke:

  “The winning team will be richly rewarded. You’ll get to dine at Le Bernardin with SHE network executives, who want to get to know you better. Then, you’ll get a night on the town. One person from the losing team will be eliminated.”

  The prize was brilliant, but what really excited me was this challenge. It had my name written all over it. I vowed to forget everything else. My team would win, no matter the cost.

  “Tomorrow morning, meet me in the conference room at eight a.m. sharp. Sleep well—you’re going to need it!”

  The screen went blank. Ruby left the room without another word. We were dismissed. One of the production assistants led us back to the Loft, and although we were all more exhausted than we’d ever been, nobody was ready to go to sleep. We were too wired. Shari hovered protectively near me for most of the evening, and kept casting me meaningful glances. I began to regret telling her about Harris. Was it a mistake? Would she use it against me? I got nervous when I saw her in the kitchen, whispering with Nadine. I swear that Nadine looked over. But nobody said a word to me about Harris, so I hoped I really could trust Shari to keep her mouth shut.

  Monica opened a bottle of wine and began dancing to some private music in front of the window, while Shari, Mikki, and I discussed what might be coming.

  “I hope we’re all on a team together,” Mikki said. “It makes me nervous to be around some of those other people. Especially Linda. She looks like a man. I’m always afraid she’s going to hit me.”

  “Jodi Sue is the weak link,” Shari whispered. “She’s always trying to get away with not doing anything. She’s so afraid of making a mistake that it’s going to be the death of her.”

  “I’m always wondering what Andy’s going to do next,” I said. “But at least he has energy. I could see being on a team with him.”

  “Not me,” said Mikki. “He’s way too intense for me. And too loud.” Her pale skin seemed to go a shade paler at the very thought of Andy. She glanced nervously across the room at him.

  “Who do you think is going to be cut next?” Shari whispered, leaning in. “Because I think it’s Jodi Sue. She’s got her rock-star husband to go home to, and I don’t think she has what it takes to win. Not the way we do,” she said, patting my knee.

  “I think it’s Andy. I hope it’s Andy,” Mikki said.

  “I hope it’s not Monica,” I said. “She cracks me up.” I looked at her across the room. She was trying to get Christophe to dance with her. “I think it should be Katie. She’s got a serious attitude problem, and she hates me. I don’t understand what her talent is.”

  “Eating candy?” said Shari. “Making headbands? Telling fortunes?”

  “Taking off her shirt,” I said. “That’s what I remember from L.A.”

  “Apparently you did some of that yourself,” said Mikki, blushing.

  “Touché,” I said.

  chapter twenty-seven

  Now, to decide the team captains, I’m going to give you all a little quiz. The first one to call out the correct answer will get to choose the first team captain. Is everyone ready?” Sybil looked at us all with amusement. It was eight a.m. sharp, and we were all falling apart from anxiety and exhaustion, but she looked well rested and perfect in her lavender cashmere sweater and cream-colored slacks.

  We all nodded. My senses switched into high alert, despite the extreme fatigue and approaching armageddon.

  “I was wearing something yesterday that I am still wearing today. What is it?”

  I scanned her from head to toe at top speed. What was it? What had she been wearing yesterday? I’d been so nervous about Harris, I’d hardly noticed her. Suddenly Katie shouted, “Cartier emerald earrings!” Weird as she was, the girl did know her accessories.

  “Excellent,” she said. “You are correct. Katie, whom do you choose to be the first team captain?”

  Katie looked around at all of us. Then she smiled. “Faith,” she said. Oh, she was out to get me, all right. Everybody knew that the team captain was at the greatest risk for elimination. She still hadn’t gotten her revenge on me, for what I knew about her in her L.A. days.

  “Very good,” said Sybil. “Now, the next question. Is everyone ready?”

  We all nodded.

  “What is the first recipe in my first cookbook, Domestic Godd—”

  “Almond-stuffed dates wrapped in bacon!” The words shot out of me without my even having to think. I knew that cookbook inside and out. I’d practically memorized it. “Right after the … chapter on…” Everyone was staring at me. “Entertaining with flair,” I said, a little embarrassed.

  “Very good!” Sybil said, pleased. “Faith, you are our first team captain. Who do you choose to captain the opposing team?”

  Who would I want to compete against? I looked at everyone, as Katie had. Then I smiled. “Katie,” I said.

  Katie rolled her eyes in annoyance.

  “All’s fair in love and war,” Sybil said. “Faith, Katie, please come up here and stand next to me.”

  OK, this was just as it should be. I was ready to be a team captain, especially on a challenge like this. I knew how to cook, and I knew how to open a business. I was happy to go head-to-head with Katie, too. I’d had just about enough of her condescending attitude.

  “Katie, who do you choose for your first team member?”

  Without hesitation, Katie said, “Shari.” Then she sneered at me. So she thought she would steal my alliances? Fine. Little did she know, Shari was likely to take over her team. Katie wouldn’t be team leader for long.

  “I choose …” I paused. I wanted to win. Andy was unpredictable and impulsive, but I knew he would kill for me and hustle on the task, lunatic or not. “Andy,” I said.

  “Nadine,” Katie said. They’d obviously become friends. Nadine looked gratified, and cast me a dirty look. What did she have against me? Probably just the fact that I was a threat. Or whatever Katie had told her about me.

  “Jodi Sue,” I said. Even if her celebrity chef title was a joke, she made those winning cupcakes.

  “Linda,” Katie said. I was surprised she wanted pushy, loudmouthed Linda on her side, but they seemed to have formed an alliance—Loudmouthed Linda, Crazy Katie, and Queen Nadine.

  “Mikki,” I said. I knew Mikki would work hard for me, too. She was shy, but sensible, and she would be quiet and not annoy me.

  “Christophe,” Katie said. Separating the lovebirds, Mikki and Christophe, was just mean.

  “Monica,” I said. If I could keep her sober, she would probably be good at helping promote the food truck. She could flirt with anyone.

  “And those are your teams,” Sybil said. “You will have all day to develop your concept, buy your supplies, prepare food, advertise, survey your lo
cation, and do anything else you think needs to be done to ensure your success. Tomorrow at eleven a.m., your truck will open for business.”

  The day was a blur of activity. By seven, we were all in the workroom, poring over the new Rulebook. We had to submit a concept by nine, and so far, our team couldn’t agree.

  “I think we have to go with your specialty, Faith,” said Andy. “I think we need to do a muffin truck.”

  “I really don’t want to do that,” I said. “I want to stretch beyond what’s safe. Our team has to stand out. And it’s a lunch truck. Muffins aren’t for lunch.”

  “What about cupcakes? Everybody loves cupcakes,” said Jodi Sue.

  “You and Shari won the first challenge with those flower cupcakes,” Andy said. “We’d look unoriginal. And cupcakes aren’t lunch, either.”

  “I agree,” I said. “We want something that’s not labor-intensive to make, but that we can do a lot with in terms of serving. Hey … what about hot dogs? It’s classic New York. Sybil will love it.”

  “Hot dogs are disgusting,” said Jodi Sue. “We want something classier, like healthy smoothies, made to order.”

  “Smoothies are cliché,” said Andy. “Just like you.”

  “Shut up, you asshole,” she said.

  “OK, seriously, you guys, I know we’re all dead tired and irritable but we’ve got to make this happen,” I said.

  “What about falafel?” said Monica. “I love falafel.”

  “We have no credibility selling falafel,” Andy said. “None of us are Middle Eastern. What do we know about falafel? That’s an idiotic idea.”

  “All right, Jodi Sue makes a good point that we should have a healthy option,” I said. “How about we do gourmet hot dogs. We can have Kobe beef and veggie as well as turkey and maybe duck if we can find it. Regular or whole wheat buns, and … what if we made our own flavored mustards?”

  “That’s a great idea,” said Andy. “Just the sound of it makes me hungry.”

  “We can call it What Up, Dog?” I said. Everybody laughed.

  “That’s great,” said Monica.

  Jodi Sue shrugged. “Whatever,” she said. “I think it’s kind of a disgusting idea, but I guess I could get into the assorted mustard thing.”

  “I know all about hot dogs,” Andy said, jumping out of his chair. He started gyrating his hips. “I’ve got a twelve-inch one right here, baby.”

  “Oh really?” I said. “I knew you looked familiar.”

  Andy cackled. “Right here, baby. Right here.”

  Across the room, we could hear the other team arguing, too. Words floated across the room: ice cream, tacos, barbecue, candy by the pound. Katie kept yelling, “Why do you all hate candy?”

  “We don’t hate candy, darling, we just think it’s juvenile,” Nadine said.

  “Don’t listen to them,” I said to my team. “We have to focus on what we’re doing.”

  “She’s a lunatic anyway,” Andy said, looking in Katie’s direction.

  “And you aren’t?” Monica said.

  “And you aren’t?” Andy said back to her.

  “OK, OK, we’re all bat-shit crazy; no normal person would participate in this insane sleep deprivation experiment. Now can we get this done?” I said.

  Andy, Mikki, and I went to the location to scout it out, on 41st Street between 6th and 7th Avenues. Then we called around to find the best sources for hot dogs. I found a great price on bulk veggie dogs, and Andy tracked down a good deal on Kobe beef dogs. After a lot of searching, I found uncured duck dogs. Turkey dogs were easy. Andy and I went out to pick up everything, including yellow and brown mustards at the grocery store that we would use for the bases for our gourmet mustard flavors: cranberry mustard, spicy brown mustard, barbecue mustard, maple mustard, chipotle mustard, classic yellow mustard, and relish mustard. We weren’t making the hot dogs, but I hoped our effort on the condiments would impress Sybil.

  I sent off Monica and Jodi Sue to make flyers with the advertisement we’d designed for a One-Day Times Square Gourmet Hot Dog Extravaganza. “Hand them out in Times Square, to everyone you see,” I said. “Dress up before you do it. Look cute.” I was glad it was them out there, and not me. I’d never felt less cute in my life.

  “Why do I have to do this?” Jodi Sue complained. “I want to make the mustard.”

  “Because you and Monica are the most flashy. People will notice you. You can work on the mustard when you get back,” I snapped. She sighed and rolled her eyes but agreed.

  Back at the workroom we mixed the ingredients into the mustards and sampled and tweaked until the flavors were just right. We all had our second wind and were moving at warp speed, talking fast and laughing at stupid things and snapping at one another, like we were all about to lose it. I kept asking for Jodi Sue’s input, but every time I talked to her, she just shrugged. Finally I just gave up and called the shots. I wondered how a personal chef could be so lacking in opinions.

  “I just know we’re going to win,” said Monica. “These are so good. We’re definitely going to win.”

  At six, I went to the T-shirt store to pick up our “What Up, Dog?” shirts, then I met everyone back at the studio. Andy practically pounced on me when I walked in the door. “Katie’s team is doing a taco truck,” he said. He looked panicky. “It sounds really good. They’ve got a whole menu; it’s way more complex than ours.” He was wild-eyed and practically vibrating.

  “Calm down,” I said, not feeling calm at all. “It’s fine. We just have to make ours better; that’s all. Don’t focus on them, it will kill us.”

  “What do they know about tacos anyway?” said Mikki. “People are not going to want to buy tacos from Nadine with her fake British accent or Shari, who’s straight out of Bensonhurst. Nobody on that team knows anything about Mexican cooking.”

  “How do you know?” said Andy. “Maybe they do. Maybe somebody lived in Mexico or has a Mexican grandmother or something. We should have done muffins. Or even cupcakes, so ours would be harder to compare to theirs. That was a big mistake. A big mistake. We’re going down. This is your fault, Faith.”

  “It’s going to be fine,” I said, starting to panic myself. Were we really going down? This could be it for me. I had to get everybody back on track. “Our idea is better. How often can you find a duck dog with a whole-grain bun and gourmet mustard?” I said.

  “We all just have to ‘Have Faith,’” Monica said, using air quotes.

  “Shut up, you ditz,” Andy said. “Let the grown-ups talk.”

  “Hey!” said Monica. “That’s mean.”

  “You’re insane, Andy,” Jodi Sue said, her hands on her full hips, her cleavage jiggling.

  “No, Jodi Sue, you’re the drag on this team.” He turned on her. “You’re not pulling your weight. You fly under the radar and everybody else has to pick up the slack, and it’s going to be your downfall. If I decide you should go next, then you’ll go next, I guarantee it.”

  “You can’t do that, you jerk,” Monica said. “You’re not even the team leader! God I need a drink.”

  “All it takes is the right kind of comment in front of Sybil,” Andy said smugly. “And any of you are gone. Believe me, I know what I’m doing. She listens to me, and you don’t want to get on my bad side.”

  “Delusions of grandeur,” Monica muttered.

  “Do you know who I am? Do you know who I know?” Jodi Sue sputtered. “My husband has connections. He’s a rock star. I can make sure you not only lose this show but that you never work again!”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Andy said.

  “Everybody, stop!” said Mikki, looking like she might faint. “Sybil doesn’t listen to any of you. Just stop! There’s enough pressure, we don’t need to add more!” Christophe hurried over from across the room, where the other team was working, and put his arm around her.

  “Are you all right, darling?” he said.

  “Get back over here, Christophe!” Katie said. “No sharing team
secrets!”

  “I’m just checking on my friend, if you don’t mind!” he yelled, his voice quavering. He was almost as pale as Mikki, and his skin looked bad—definitely the worse for wear from lack of sleep.

  “We do mind!” Queen Nadine said. “No fraternizing with the enemy.”

  “Mikki is not the enemy!” he shouted.

  “It’s all right, honey, just go back,” Mikki said faintly, patting him on the arm. “I’m all right.” We all stared at Mikki. Darling? Honey?

  “What?” she said. “So … we’re together now.”

  Monica wrinkled her nose. “Eww.”

  “OK, this is getting us nowhere,” I said. “Andy, just shut up. Jodi Sue, stop letting him get to you. All of you, forget the other team, and focus on us. If we aren’t unified, we’ll definitely lose this challenge. Now let’s all go downstairs and work on decorating the truck.”

  The night before, the other team’s truck hadn’t been on the lot. Now it was back, and they’d obviously paid to have it professionally wrapped—it was covered in a blue-and-orange Aztec-style design with a big orange sun and cacti, and they’d hung real piñatas from brackets on the roof. The whole thing fluttered with multicolored pennant flags.

  “Look how tacky that is,” Mikki said, her voice shrill. I was becoming more and more freaked out and it wasn’t just because I had volunteered to drive our truck through New York City traffic.

  “How did they afford to do that on the budget we had?” Andy said.

  “Somebody must know somebody,” I said. “But this isn’t about who can decorate the best truck. It’s about revenue!” I was talking too loud, but I couldn’t help it. I felt like my head might explode.

  “Ours is classier,” Mikki said. But nobody really believed it.

  “We’re so screwed,” Andy said. “They’re going to win.”

  “Shut up, Andy,” Jodi Sue said. “Don’t even say that. We’re going to make the most money. Ours is the best. Just shut up!”