by MJ Post
“No one EVER makes you laugh, Dark. Except me, of course.”
“Of course.”
“So, tell me more.”
“I had a feeling that if it was down to her and me, I would let her win. It was like a whole fantasy. I’d say, I give up, you win, and she’d say, no way, I want to beat you fair and square or not at all, and we’d go on like that with an understanding, and then she’d win anyway.”
Lillian’s brow furrowed, and she ran her hand over her facial scar. “How much time did you spend talking to this girl?”
“Well, I wasn’t sitting next to her at dinner, so not much. Just when I was serving her. Shit, I hope she liked my dirty rice. I kind of rushed, because everyone was hungry, so I didn’t develop the flavor as much as I wanted. I think she liked the mussels. She finished those.”
“Oh. My. God.” Lillian beamed. “Dark, you’re acting like you just fell in love at first sight. You always said you don’t believe in that.”
“I know. I always said that. Love at first sight is crazy, sure. So call it, I don’t know. A spark, a connection.”
“I didn’t know you could feel those. I mean, I always figured you could, but you wouldn’t, right?”
“I would’ve been right with you, till today.”
“It’s stress. Moving here to the big city is super stressful, so we’re both feeling kind of vulnerable, of course. But does that mean you’ve just opened up the way you should have all along, or does it mean you’ve just opened up more than you should have?”
“I don’t know.” Toby looked at the review, and Kacie Lee’s picture, and realized his sister was right. He hadn’t felt as strong about anyone, pretty much ever, as he now felt about her, and honestly, what was he going to do about it? “I have all the confidence I need in the kitchen,” he said, “but away from there, I’m just a country boy. She’s a big city girl. She’s way out of my league. I’ve never even eaten Korean food; I mean, you can’t get it in Oxford at all. I looked up a bunch of dishes online, so should I ask her to teach me how to cook them, or what should I do?”
Lillian pondered for a while and ate her pie. Finally, she said, “Dark, you’re stressed out. I know, because I am too, and if I weren’t such a caring sister, I’d probably be saying you’re crazy and you need to get your head straight. But love isn’t crazy, and I would never say to walk away from anything that might work out. But for God’s sake, take your time. Do the show, do the networking, get to know her slowly, and when the show’s over, make your move then if it makes sense. Not that I don’t trust your instincts – or at least, I would, if we weren’t both exhausted from a three-day road trip and both out of our minds in this madhouse. You know?”
“So I shouldn’t do anything with her, or …? Come on, Light, help me. I don’t have a lot of positive experience with romance. Even Amanda happened because she made the first move.”
“Dark, I think you have better instincts about people than you realize. You used to mess up in high school, but that’s a long time ago. The best thing is always to make friends first, and make other moves only when the trust is established. And the other best thing is to ask questions and learn about her and make sure you really like her for who she is. Do those things, and for God’s sake, take it slow.”
“Heard,” said Toby. But he didn’t know if he could take it slowly. He also didn’t know if he could finish the ghastly pie.
Chapter Nine
Eloise
The next morning, Toby awoke earlier than the other three men. He sat with his phone looking at Kacie Lee’s picture for a while, then got up and showered. He wore a button-down shirt and clean faded jeans and new boots he’d bought during the road trip. As he changed, the other men stirred, and he headed out to the common room to avoid a conversation with them.
The night before, he’d noticed a modest espresso machine in one kitchen cabinet. He hooked it up and made a cup with some of the same Columbian blend Alia had served after lunch. At the table, he considered what he’d cooked the day before. It then occurred to him: he had not called Boris to let him know what was about to happen. It was too early yet, but he would definitely call in the late morning.
He heard footfalls in the hallway and looked up, posing the coffee mug to screen part of his face, to discover a good-looking woman entering. She had flowing blond hair, gorgeous bottle-green eyes, a button nose, perfect kissing lips, rolling hips. She moved with natural grace and with fast-moving, glancing eyes. She was just the kind of girl he’d struck out with in high school, who had gone for the football player instead, only she was now about twenty-eight or twenty-nine with the determined expression of a bank executive.
She walked right up to him, plunked down on the sofa perpendicular to his, met his eyes with her cornflower ones, and said, “You have any more of that coffee?”
“It’s espresso. I’ll make you a cup.”
“No. You sit. I’ll do it. I like mine just right.”
She made for the kitchen, and Toby saw that her black slacks did not disguise the perfection of her shapely ass. She had to be Eloise, he realized; he’d heard the name, and a little of her voice, while drifting in and out of sleep the night before. California, New American cuisine.
God damn, she was good looking. She was the kind of woman men stopped walking to stare at.
Toby listened to the clicks and clacks, and then the loud whoosh, of the espresso machine. He considered whether to join her. But really, a girl like that was like a painting. You could look and look, but never get close enough to touch. He woke up his phone and looked again at the picture of Kacie Lee, at the youthful brightness and hope in her face. That was the face that he’d want to see every day, the face of a person with heart and spirit.
Eloise returned with a tray and two mugs of espresso, gave him one. The mugs had the network’s logo on one side, and the other sides had the faces of two of the network’s on-camera culinary experts, called the Hammer Chefs. Toby had heard of them, watched their shows occasionally to get recipe ideas, but didn’t care much about TV cooks.
“Seems like we’re the early risers,” she said. “I hope I’m not jet-lagged. I heard your dinner was sensational last night.”
Had Kacie told her? Had they met yet?
“Alia told me you make a mean dirty rice. Want to help me with breakfast? I’m all about a healthful frittata.”
“Sure.” If they cooked, he’d be able to conduct a conversation. Getting-to-know-you talk annoyed him.
They sat. Eloise, undeterred by his silence, told him about coming up in San Diego and apprenticing for various Michelin Star chefs; about doing it without her dad’s help, while failing to mention who he was; about things to do in San Diego. Californians sure talked a lot, Toby thought, but from her story he gleaned that she was as expert as he was, her mentors even more celebrated than Boris. He also gleaned, from her tales of pushing away rivals to rise to chef de cuisine in three restaurants, that she was accustomed to competing and winning. Faced with people like that in Boris’ kitchen, he’d stayed humble and out-cooked them. Oxford was a small city, though; would that strategy really work against Eloise, who was talented, skilled, smart, and attractive?
Eventually more contestants appeared in the common room. Toby’s eyes moved to Kacie Lee, but she wasn’t even looking in his direction. Eloise announced that Toby was going to help her make breakfast, and they were going downstairs to find the warehouse-sized pantry Alia had told them about. Toby had been there, knew what it was like, but he didn’t say anything. He was nerving himself up to cross the room and invite Kacie to go down with them, but Eloise caught his arm and directed him toward the hallway with the elevator. Although a hot girl was on his arm, he felt no connection to her at all; his mind went back to the girl he liked, the cute pink visor she was wearing with the logo of her restaurant on it, and how he would like to see her toss it aside and shake out her silky black hair.
Nevertheless, he went with Eloise. Vegas, a Hispanic man of Toby’s height
with a sharp nose and cornrows on the sides of his head, followed on his own initiative.
Three floors down was the TKN pantry, a huge warehouse room with more coolers than a grocery store. The pantry was the signature feature of shows on the network, appearing on multiple programs as a set, and also used for its own show, Pantry Confidential, which spotlighted unusual ingredients. It was stocked far beyond what the network could actually use, with excess food being donated to City Harvest and other charities. Rows of shelves were tall enough to require wheeled stepladders, and two twenty-year-old staffers stood by sipping green tea and Snap-chatting their college friends.
As soon as they arrived, Vegas took off to explore the pantry on his own. Eloise gave Toby a cloth basket to carry and went shopping. Eggs, peppers, fresh herbs, whole-grain breads, fresh berries, low-sodium sliced cheeses were soon his to carry. She sent him to find tomatillos for homemade ketchup. He saw in the vegetable and fruit bins foods some of which he had never gotten to handle or work with before, and others the names of which were entirely unfamiliar to him. He made a mental note of things he wanted to work with but said as little as possible.
When Eloise was satisfied, she led Toby toward the elevator. Vegas emerged from between two towering shelves to join them. The elevator doors opened to reveal Herschel Singer in a gray business suit. “Just headed up to see you all. I found some guests.”
Behind him were Lillian; Kacie Lee’s cousin, the clownish kid; and a man he recognized from TV. It was TKN’s billionaire CEO, Alois “Lou” Morton.
All emerged on the dorm floor. Back at the common room, Toby scanned for Kacie, but didn’t see her. He passed the heavy basket to Eloise and exchanged cheek-pecks with his sister.
“Who’s the blond?” whispered Lillian.
“Eloise, from California.”
“Did you fall for her, too?”
“She’s boring.”
Their conversation was interrupted when whatsisname introduced himself as Jinwoo.
Herschel called the group to attention. “Hey, guys, listen. I’ll be around if you need me, but officially this is the handoff. You’ll be reporting to Shaun Kerr, our showrunner, and Shelley Drake, our director. They’ll be up later to brief you. So before I go, let me introduce to you the man who needs no introduction, my boss, Lou Morton.”
Morton nodded and patted him on the back. Ruddy, gray-haired, in a dark suit, he had a warm smile that belied his impeccable corporate outfit. His voice was deep and rich. “I want to thank all of you for coming on board to help us launch our new series. I’m told you’ve already begun getting to know each other and cooking together. There’s nothing more inspiring than that. Our business is competitive, but it’s also about joy. So, cook well, compete hard, and come out the way all of us at TKN do. Come out as a family. Hello.”
Kacie Lee had just emerged mid-speech from the dorms. Morton walked over and offered his hand. “I loved your kimchi.”
This mark of favor escaped no one in the room. Morton hadn’t directly acknowledged anyone else in the room. Eloise, visibly startled, set down the basket on the top step of the dining room. Buster breathed hard.
Kacie accepted the handshake. “Thanks. After the show, please consider Koryo Burger for your catering needs.”
Lou Morton gave her a sunny grin. “You know I will.” They had a private conversation that lasted a minute or so. Then he broke from her and headed for the elevator, waving once over his shoulder. “So long, everyone.”
Lillian whispered in Toby’s ear. “She has got some spunk, Dark. Just exquisite.”
Herschel announced that within the hour their electronic devices would be collected. “Lockdown starts then, so make whatever calls you need to make. And with that, I’ll just head out and let Madame Queen know you’re as ready for her as you’re going to get. Bye, team.”
Toby hadn’t called Boris yet. When Eloise signaled him to come to the kitchen to help her, he waved his hands no and headed for the hallway.
He got voice mail. “Boris, I should have called before. I’m in New York. I’m doing a cooking show, and Nina is the judge. I’ll do everything I can to make you proud. You know how Nina is, but… Anyway, they’re taking my phone soon. I’ll call you again if I get a chance. Thanks for believing in me all these years.”
He hung up. That would have to do.
Chapter Ten
Madame Queen
Kacie lay in bed frustrated. She hadn’t gotten to cook; the two chefs who had, Alia and Toby, had already begun to establish their credentials in the competition, had gotten a chance to earn respect and to intimidate the other contestants. All she had gotten to do was pick wine, although, having sampled both the options, she now knew she had been right.
Alia was very nice, quiet and polite, and Kacie liked her — she was the only fellow New Yorker in the competition, the head chef and owner of a Bronx family restaurant called Community Kitchen.
Toby was a different situation. She had been immediately drawn to him, had found both fascination and comfort in his intense focus on cooking, and, even worse, had felt small and stupid when he looked at her, like a little girl staring up at her tall daddy. These feelings were useless to her; she had no time to get a crush on a guy, no matter how much her type he was. She was there to build her reputation, to prove herself, to grow her career.
Maryann was on the phone babbling intermittently, always seeming to place a call just as Kacie began nodding off. The last of the women arrived at 7 or 8 PM, a sleek blond named Eloise Alexandra Hamilton, who went around shaking hands and name-dropped some California bigshots Kacie had never heard of. Eloise was courteous but pushy. Within a half-hour of their meeting, Kacie felt like strangling her.
When Eloise had moved her full attention to Alia, who was too polite to shut her up, Kacie took out her phone and positioned it so that she thought the camera could not capture what was on the screen. There she did a web search and found what she could on Toby Brutus. He had a fairly new Facebook page that identified him as a TV personality and paired him in photographs with a gorgeous sister and a well-dressed, mustachioed black man.
“Who’s that?” Eloise asked, sitting on the bed next to her.
It was time to think fast. “Our competition,” she said, and showed the screen. “Based just on tonight’s dinner, he might be the one to beat among the men. Who should I look up next?”
Using their phones, they examined the online profiles of the other three guys. Louie Alpharetto, a Cleveland-based Italian chef, had trained in Rome and Sicily, but had also worked in Cannes and Athens, so he was well-rounded in Mediterranean cuisine. Roderigo “Vegas” Camacho, a Southwestern specialist, had worked in high-pressure casino kitchens in Las Vegas. Robert “Buster” Wayne was a molecular gastronomist who had won at least twenty regional cooking competitions.
Kacie didn’t allow herself to worry about being outclassed. She knew she was on the show for a reason, and being a laughingstock was not that reason. Meanwhile, if the competition worried Eloise, she certainly didn’t show it.
The next morning, Kacie overslept and woke to find the other three women already up and out of the bedroom. She made her bed, not as neatly as Alia had, and went in the shower. Her stomach began growling as she was toweling off, and she considered whether there was any hope of making breakfast for herself with seven other chefs in close proximity.
Along with the hungry came some vague stirrings of horniness. She hadn’t felt that in years, and tried to fight those feelings down. She must not let that gorgeous man distract her.
Emerging into the common room, she saw pretty much what she had predicted: there was Toby, the man she had been thinking about during restless wee hours, memories of whose handsome face and silky hair and solid lanky frame had made her toss and turn before dawn, following Eloise around like a puppy dog. For an odd moment, she sensed him scanning the room as if looking for her, but she pretended not to notice. All the white guys liked the blonds. She resolved that a
t least she would last longer on this show than Eloise. Maybe she couldn’t beat the blabbering California chef in the love department, but cooking was another matter.
While Toby, Eloise, and Vegas were downstairs, she got a text from Jinwoo that he was on his way for a visit. Jinwoo asked if she had told her parents where she was, because they were worried she had slept over with a secret boyfriend and thereby embarrassed the family. “I’ll take care of it,” she answered.
She dialed her mother. “Oh my God!” Mingyung cried. She sniffed away tears that Kacie suspected were partly put-on. “You didn’t come home last night! We thought you were dead, or worse.”
“Umma, listen carefully, okay? I’m staying in the city for a few weeks.”
“Weeks? But you have your restaurant to run, don’t you?”
“I’ll have to leave it to Clementine to run for that short time. It’s worth it.”
“Worth it? Some boy is worth it? You’re shacked up, aren’t you?” Mingyung continued in Korean, “This is the shame of my family. Your father was right all along. I am such a fool. I was too nice, too indulgent.”
“Shut up, umma! Just listen, will you? I’m not shacked up with anyone. I’m staying at a TV studio. I’m going to film a TV show for The Kitchen Network.”
“A… TV show…? You’re not in an apartment giving your innocence and your future away to a married man? But your aunt said…”
“She’s an idiot, umma. You can ask Jinwoo. He brought me up here. He knows all the people. Or call The Kitchen Network and ask them. I was hired by a guy called Herschel Singer. That’s who you ask for when you call.”
“That’s the man, the older married man. Your aunt said that Jinwoo told her he was at your restaurant.”
“Umma. Umma! He hired me for the TV show is all. And I’m still a virgin. Okay? So just check if you need to. Okay? Goodbye.”
Annoyed with her mother, Kacie put on the pink visor of her restaurant. Everyone had been told to bring gear from the restaurants where they worked, but this one she liked to wear anyway. It was like armor; it reminded her who she was and what her ambitions were.