by MJ Post
Headed back out to the common-room, she was expecting to hear the babble of her fellow-chefs, but instead there was only one voice, one that she recognized from TV. Lou Morton – the owner of Kitchen Network.
When she stepped out of the hallway, Morton spotted her, and she saw recognition in his eyes. He crossed the room and shook her hand. “I loved your kimchi.”
Kacie answered, “Thanks. After the show, please consider Koryo Burger for your catering needs.” It was a stupid thing for her to say, since he had dozens of top-flight chefs working for him in the building daily.
Lou Morton gave her a sunny grin. “You know I will.” He leaned in closer, almost touching foreheads. “Listen, I know these guys have more time on the job than you, but don’t count yourself out, huh? There are a lot of intangibles that go into being great. You never know what you can find inside yourself.”
“Why are you telling me in particular? Let them worry.” Kacie hoped he wasn’t flirting. He had gray hair, for God’s sake.
Morton smiled. “I’m telling you because I think, and if you repeat this I’ll deny it, that, win or lose, you can be a member of my network team. All you have to do is keep your cool and last up till the finale, and we’ll take a meeting. How does that sound?”
“If it’s a business meeting. Just business.”
“Just business.”
“Deal.”
Then he broke from her and headed for the elevator, waving once over his shoulder. “So long, everyone.”
With Morton out of the way, Kacie had a chance to survey the room. Most everyone she had met was there, other than Ozzy, but her eye moved to a small group standing behind the sofas. Jinwoo was near Toby Brutus and his sister, whom she recognized from his Facebook page.
The sister looked at her and beamed and whispered something in the brother’s ear. Making fun of her, probably. How annoying.
Kacie circled the mix and climbed up into the kitchen, where Eloise was chopping ingredients. Her knife-work was swift and precise, better than Kacie’s.
“Want to help?” Eloise asked.
“I’m starving,” Kacie admitted. “Anything to get food on the table a little faster.” Morton’s words echoed in her thoughts, but she couldn’t shake the suspicion that the billionaire’s real goal was to seduce an ingenue.
Ten minutes later they had put two cast-iron skillets of mixture into the hot oven. Louie, the young and portly Italian specialist, joined them and began cranking out espressos.
They were just taking the frittatas out of the oven when a commotion arose by the entrance.
“Good day, my friends,” a woman said in an elevated, piercing voice. The Southern accent was undeniable, the words pronounced with care and precision. “I require your attention.”
Kacie set the frittata pan she was holding onto a TKN-logoed trivet on the dining room table and stepped to the edge of the stairs.
The new arrival was a black woman in her fifties, dressed in an immaculate dark business suit accented with a lavender scarf and several gold finger rings. Her makeup was heavy, and her head was crowned with a Betmar Keeley bucket hat accented with a feather. She had deep and wise eyes with something Chinese about the lids, and her carriage was perfectly erect, her shoulders a straight line, her back perfectly aligned with her neck.
“Well then,” she declared, “you are the first set of competitors for my soon-to-be-award-winning series. I am Chef Nina Lestrade. On the set, on-camera, and for the duration of the taping, you shall refer to me as Madame Queen, or if you are in a rush, Madame will do. Please be aware that I can give you a strike any time I like, on or off camera, including even in private, and as with baseball, three strikes and you are most definitely out. Understood?” She surveyed the competitors. “I think you understand. No sass will be tolerated.”
Toby’s sister moved toward Madame Queen with her hand extended. “Good to see you again, Nina.”
“Thank you. Now you may go.”
“Go?” The young woman seemed surprised. “You know, Toby’s going to tell me about it anyway.”
“You are dismissed.”
The sister smiled. “I just wanted to say hello.”
“I doubt that. You are far from the wide-eyed innocent college girl you were when we first met, and what I have to say now is only for the competitors. No one else has an advisor at hand, and Toby will not be telling you a single thing unless he earns that chance in the competition. Now you may leave.”
Lillian shrugged prettily, pecked her brother on the cheek, and headed for the exit. As she did, she locked eyes with Kacie and winked.
Kacie averted her eyes. It was some joke she wasn’t in on; meanwhile, it was Madame Queen she needed to pay attention to.
“First of all, you are facing lengthy and wearying work days. If you are not performing on-camera, you are preparing to perform on-camera. You will be interviewed constantly, at each stage of the day’s shooting, and you had best be cheerful about it. The better you perform in interviews, the more television time you will receive. If you disrespect Madame Queen, however, I will take steps to eliminate you.
“This competition is triple elimination. Three strikes remove you from a win. A win is extremely valuable. Every moment of television time wins you greater recognition and thus greater opportunity. The more impressed I am with your cooking and your personality, the greater the chance that you will be featured in the network’s monthly and holiday special magazines, and the more video clips of you will be made available, and the more original short features you will shoot. At the end of the show, the winner will be assisted to prepare a pitch to our promotional partners for a new restaurant to be operated by you in a major metropolitan center.”
“Rittenhouse Square, here I come,” said Buster.
“Possibly. Now, as to the details of each day’s completion, here is how it will go. You will have interviews in the morning, and cameramen will be with you in this space and wherever else you may go. We assemble in Kitchen One for a Dish Challenge. Each time it will be different. I shall be the judge for the majority of these challenges. I am not a neutral or objective judge. I like what I choose to like, and I answer to no one but my own conscience. You have one goal, and one goal only, and it is to please Madame Queen. Can you remember that?” She stared intently at Alia Kamara.
“Inshallah,” said Alia, and lowered her chin.
“After you have cooked during the dish challenge, there will be interviews. Then comes the judging. The best dish prepared receives a highly desirable prize. Prizes such as these can dramatically affect your chances of winning, or they may be of assistance to your emotional health. Interviews follow once more. The worst two efforts, in my sole opinion, must participate in a cook-off. The loser of the cook-off receives a strike. Again, you will be interviewed. These elements are reviewed and edited to produce each episode. You remain on-camera at all times in this building, except in the lavatory. Any questions so far?”
“Why do you have to take our phones away?” asked Maryann. “I still need to make some calls when I’m not on the camera.”
“You’d better hurry up and win, then, Chef Chen,” answered Madame Queen. “Until then, you’ll follow the rules like everyone else does. Except in case of family emergencies, you and your time belong to us. Believe me, our taking your phone is doing you a favor.”
“That’s not what I think,” Maryann said.
“Think about winning instead. Any more questions? If not, I’ll continue.”
Kacie was glad Maryann was losing her phone, and about as glad Buster was losing his iPad, but she was less glad to lose her own device. She wanted her phone so she could do more research by looking at the social media of her competitors. Well, it was too late now.
“I mentioned that I would be your judge for most of the contests. You may be wondering what that means. The answer is simple. For certain contests, your judges will be colleagues of mine who just happen to be -- Hammer Chefs.”
&nb
sp; The Hammer Chefs were specialists in particular cuisines, the best experts in those cuisines whom The Kitchen Network could hire. They appeared alternately on a show called the Hammer Chef Challenge and competed against other top chefs in their fields. They rarely lost. They were tough-minded and focused, at least on-camera. They would make tough judges, and their presence was certain to mean that the competitors would have to cook the cuisines in which they were expert. This carried a heavy risk: no one was trained in every style of cooking, and if caught unprepared, any of them could wind up in an impossible position.
Kacie raised her hand.
“Yes, Miss Lee?”
“Madame Queen, who is Hammer Chef Korean?”
“A fine question, my dear. And the answer is – there isn’t one. And that puts you in a definite bind. No one to impress with your specialty – but on the other hand, no one to disappoint. But not to worry, my fine friends. I have selected Hammer Chefs who will be equally difficult for all of you. Of course, one of you has it worst of all. Chef Brutus.”
Toby had been slouching against the sofa with his hands in his pockets; at her words, he jerked upright.
“Weren’t you listening to me, Chef Brutus?”
“I sure was, Nina.”
“Don’t call me that. If you recall, I am to be called Madame Queen.”
“But I’ve known you for years.”
“And far from helping you,” said Madame Queen, “that will be an extra challenge for you. I know what your best tastes like, and I will expect you to do better than ever before, and if you don’t, you’ll lose.”
Toby took a deep breath, followed by a weak smile.
“I have a question,” said Buster. “If I’m going to cook Modernist cuisine the way you know I can, all sexy for TV, I need special equipment and ingredients. Can I give you a list, and you make sure it’s there when I need it?”
“Our pantry has everything you need. You’ll see. And if anything is missing, you’ll need to inform Shelley.”
“Shelley?”
“He doesn’t listen, does he?” Madame Queen asked, looking at Alia.
“Shelley is the director,” Alia fake-whispered to Buster.
“Yeah, okay, got it.”
“We’ll see,” said Madame Queen. “We’ll see if any of you get it. We’ll see in the morning. I shall be making gumbo for you all for dinner tomorrow night. Be sure to preserve your appetites.”
She whipped around and sauntered out of the room.
Chapter Eleven
Teach Me
The eight chefs moved in groups of one or two toward the dorms. Toby adjusted his speed to come alongside Kacie, wondered what he was going to do now that he had caught up to her, and finally tapped her shoulder. Kacie gave a little stutter-step and turned to face him fully. “So, you’ve known her for years? Well, that’s not too fair, is it?”
“Herschel said it’s good for the show. You heard what she said, anyway. She’ll be harder on me.”
“Sure,” Kacie said. “Or it’s a setup, not a real competition.”
“She and my mentor, Boris Winfrey, had a painful divorce. I wasn’t involved in that, but she could hurt him if they play up the connection and she embarrasses me on TV.”
“Oh. How scary for you.” The contempt was obvious.
“No. I’m not scared. I knew the risk coming in. I just want to cook my best and get some time on TV. If I win, great. If I don’t, I’ll get as much out of it as I can.”
Kacie seemed to be considering how sincere he was about it. Then she said, “So why are you talking to me anyway?”
Her suspicion gave Toby a twinge of pain in his gut. He blurted, “I’ve never had Korean food.”
“You’re missing out, then.”
“I know. That’s the point. When we get time, I want you to teach me some recipes.”
She stopped walking. “Look. I came here to win. I’m not doing anything that will give my opponent an edge. If you’re serious about learning to cook Korean from me, it will be after the show is over.”
Toby looked deep into her face and saw only suspicion and doubt. She had no idea that his interest in her was romantic. There was no reason for a good-looking, tough city girl like this to bother with him. He wasn’t exactly following Lillian’s instructions to take his time getting to know her, and now he’d embarrassed himself.
“Any time at all,” he said. “I have all the time in the world.” He was going to stop there and walk away, but a pinch in his chest told him he couldn’t contain his frustration. “But I did think we were all supposed to make friends as part of the show.”
She shook her head, but her expression had a certain longing in it that he couldn’t account for. “We can’t make friends. We’re competitors. The best we can do is respect each other and make friends later.” She approached, lifted her right hand toward him. He wasn’t sure whether they were going to shake, and in the moment he was wondering, she gave him a dismissive pat on the cheek. “Okay, buddy?”
Alia, who had entered the women’s dorm, emerged and came back down the hall and joined them, pulled Kacie’s head close and whispered something. “You guys are arguing on camera,” she then mouthed at Toby.
“We’re not arguing,” Toby said. “I thought I was making friends, but apparently I’m looking for a competitive advantage.”
“I ate your food,” Alia said. “I don’t think you need one.” She turned to Kacie. “My guess is that you don’t either.” Toby remembered that Kacie had had a private chat with Lou Morton in front of everyone. Could Alia be referring to that? “Come on; let’s get out of the hallway. They’ll be showing up to take our phones soon.”
Toby stalked into the men’s dorm. His first try at befriending Kacie Lee had confirmed his fears, that he was too socially clumsy and too provincial to be interesting to a girl like her. Her paranoia was understandable, and he would have to find a way to win her trust, but the direct approach wasn’t going to work. He still had his phone. He texted Lillian.
Toby: Kacie blew me off. She doesn’t trust me.
After a minute, the reply came.
Lillian: Slow down, boy.
Toby dialed Boris Winfrey again, and again got voice mail.
Chapter Twelve
The Pantry
I was rude to him, Kacie thought. I should have been nicer about it. In a competition, you can’t just make enemies.
Toby had stopped her in the hallway and asked her to teach him Korean cooking. She had fought her first reaction, which was to begin trembling. His eyes, his deep voice, his shoulders – he was all the man she could ever want. But no, that was wrong. That was her heart talking, not her head, and her heart had always been the heart of a fool. Her head, more trustworthy, told her he was up to something. If she taught him recipes, he could use them to compete. Not only that, but since he’d already connected with Eloise — obviously, beautiful guys went with beautiful girls — it followed that helping him was also helping the blond.
But that voice! God, she could listen to him talk forever. If he read her the phone book it would make her panties wet.
After Kacie rebuffed him, Toby went on to talk about friendship being part of the show. That filled Kacie’s gut with butterflies. If only he had really meant it! He had a smoldering intensity standing in front of a stove that she had never seen before in anyone else her age. He didn’t joke around; he was for real when he was in a kitchen. If only he were not a phony outside a kitchen, she would want him desperately.
She did want him desperately, but she knew better; she knew to fight that attraction, hoped it wouldn’t distract her during the actual contest.
Kacie had seen his sister giving her a couple of smirking looks and could easily imagine what they meant. You’re an easy target. You don’t get what smart people like us are strategizing. We’ll get what we need from you without more than a thimbleful of effort.
But I was still rude to him, she thought again. I should have found a nicer
way to avoid the trap. I shouldn’t have showed that I realized what he was up to. I should have played dumb.
Ozzy came in with a set of Ziploc bags and a shoe box. After all their devices were shut off, the security officer gathered them and put each in one of the plastic bags with a name tag and locker number and gave each chef a receipt with the matching locker number and a key to open the locker downstairs when the time came. Kacie secured the key in her pocketbook, then lay down on her bed.
She was still thinking about Toby. Goddamn it! For all that she didn’t trust him, she knew that her attraction to him was so strong that if he tried hard, he could get her to do anything.
She imagined him then, sitting at the dining table drinking coffee with Eloise, and drawling, “Yeah, she taught me all her recipes, and I fucked her, too.” She imagined them laughing together.
Would it be so bad, really, to give her virginity to him? The weight of preserving it felt like too much sometimes. Just getting the first experience over with wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Virginity wasn’t worth anything anymore, whatever her mother thought. Why not just give it to a hot guy? Maybe the fun of that would be worth the consequences in buyer’s remorse later on. It was so old-fashioned to think that respectable girls waited, while guys could bang any slut they wanted.
No, she was being stupid. That was just hormones talking, and nerves. The first time was important. Picking the right guy was important, for the memories, for self-respect.
Kacie forced her thoughts to Madame Queen. In Nina Lestrade’s view, not only in name but in all ways, the show was hers and she had complete fiat, able to do whatever she wanted with their fates as competitors. To disrespect Madame Queen was to risk early elimination. But on the other hand, being true to yourself demanded that you stand up to tyrants. Kacie respected her elders when they had good intentions, but she would be no one’s whipping-boy.