by MJ Post
“We’ll get along,” Maryann said. Toby noticed her fists were clenched.
Shelley continued, “More of our shooting time will be spent interviewing you than filming your cooking. The interviews will matter the most in determining how much TV time you get. So give us sound-bytes. You know what those are, right? If you want to sling some dirt on each other, go to it. The high ground is not likely to make you a winner in the sound-byte department. Don’t take me wrong. I don’t mean secrets, not that kind of dirt. But a few spicy insults wouldn’t be bad. You can clear them with each other in advance if you like. Don’t insult Madame Queen, though, I warn you. It will put you in the spotlight, but I expect she’ll make a hash out of you. Practice your speeches, people, in your mind if you must, and never, never let yourself get tongue-tied. If you’re on the spot, say something about food preparation our audience doesn’t know. Don’t worry about giving away your culinary secrets. You’ll get more secrets with experience, right? Can’t think of a secret either? Tell your favorite story about your family or your dog. I’ll give you an example. Who has a dog?”
Kacie raised her hand.
“Tell us about it, then?”
“He’s a Jindo dog. His name is Hayangi. That means Whitey.”
“What’s a Jindo dog? Tell us the whole thing.”
“It’s a Korean breed of dog. They’re intelligent, and they make good watch dogs.”
“More, please. Tell us about your own particular dog, if you please.”
“He’s very loyal and loving. He sleeps with me every night.”
“Because you don’t have a boyfriend?” the director pressed.
Kacie adjusted her pink visor, screening her eyes as she thought. Toby’s interest picked up. If she had a boyfriend, he knew he’d have to give up his plans to win her over. “If I get a boyfriend, he’d better like Whitey. That’s all I have to say about that.”
Someone snickered — Buster.
“You see,” Shelley interrupted, “what I did there is create a human interest hook for talking to Chef Lee. Don’t laugh, Chef Wayne. Your hook might be what you’re doing to lose your big belly. Maybe side-bends or sit-ups?”
“Both,” Buster said sheepishly.
“Now, when we go with a human interest hook for you, whatever it is, you go at it full bore, okay? Chef Lee, I had to pry all that out of you like you were standing in the prisoner’s dock. As soon as a hook comes up, you say as much as you can and be as clever as you can.”
“Who’s taking care of the dog?” Toby asked.
The entire assembled group turned to stare at him.
“I mean, is that another example of something she could say? That she misses the dog and who is taking care of it?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” said the director. “Now…”
“Who is?” Toby asked Kacie directly.
“Taking care of Whitey?” she answered. “Probably my sister. Why do you ask?”
“I never heard of a Jindo dog before. Is it a big dog?”
Kacie took off the visor. “Why do you want to know?”
“It’s human interest,” Toby said. After a pause, he added, “We’re practicing, right? So what else should you say if you use the Jindo dog as a hook?” His real reason for asking was that he wanted to talk to Kacie as much as he could, hoping to win his way past her suspicion. However, during the cross-country drive, Lillian had trained him for hours in this kind of promotional improvisation, and talking to her about it was almost as good as practicing to promote himself.
“Okay, I get it,” Kacie said. “Fine, I get it. But what about you, Chef Brutus? You know what they’ll ask you, right?”
“Toby.”
“Toby. You know what they’re going to ask you. How close are you with Madame Queen, huh? How about that?”
“That’s the elephant in the room,” Louie said. Sweat slicked his youthful jowls. “You know everyone is wondering about that.”
“If I have any advantage, I don’t know about it,” Toby answered. “I know her, sure, but her ex-husband, Boris Winfrey, is the one I’m close with.”
“And what does he say about it?” asked Vegas, the sharp-faced man with the cornrows.
Toby shrugged. “I didn’t talk to him about it.”
“You could be bullshitting,” Louie said. “I mean, not that I have any reason not to trust you, you seem cool so far, but it’s possible you’re bullshitting us, isn’t it?”
“That’s only possible to believe if you don’t know me,” Toby answered. “Ask anyone back home. I’m a straight shooter.” Louie was scared, he thought, rather than aggressive.
“Let’s lay off him,” said Eloise. “He’s a good guy. We’re all the good guys here. We’re all here to cook, not to fight.”
“Like Antony said in Julius Caesar,” Shelley broke in, “‘For Brutus is an honorable man; so are they all, all honorable men.’ Like that, right?”
“No relation,” said Toby. He was tired of having that speech quoted to tease him.
“It’s not fighting,” said Vegas. “Shit, I’m a family man. I don’t fight with nobody. I just cook.”
“How many kids do you have?” Toby asked. “There’s your hook, right?”
“I got six, three sons and three daughters, and two of them are autistic. My wife’s run ragged keeping track of them — she’s got emphysema, too. So my mom helps out. I hardly ever see anyone, I work so much. Some nights I almost fall asleep with my chin on the pass.”
“Good,” Shelley said. “Amazing human interest stuff. Add that to your amazing food and we have potential TV dynamite. Great, we’re all getting it. So pile onto the elevators and let’s ride down to the studio. Fourth floor is our home base. Down the hallway, follow the arrow under the show name, MQCS. Madame Queen is there now, working on the gumbo for tonight. See you all down there after I make a call.” She lifted her phone, grinned at them. “Jealous?”
As the group headed out, Alia touched Toby’s elbow. “Don’t let them get to you,” she said softly.
“Huh?” Toby was thinking about how to get on the elevator next to Kacie, who was definitely not waiting for him to catch up. He stopped to talk to the diminutive woman next to him. “Who’s getting to me?”
“You looked stressed. The corners of your eyes narrowed. Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure Louie and Vegas have good hearts.”
“And so do I,” Toby said. “And so do you. The others, I don’t know.”
They and Shelley were the only ones in the room, and Shelley was keeping her distance as she talked on her phone.
“You don’t think Kacie has a good heart?” Alia asked.
“I hope she does,” he admitted.
Chapter Fifteen
Choosing a Partner
Recording of the first episode started with each of them entering and standing around looking daggers at each other. Voice-over introductions would be added in later. This scene had to be reshot three times because Vegas kept coughing. The order was changed the third time to begin with Vegas standing alone. He coughed his guts out, then the camera was turned on. Maryann was slotted to come in and stand next to him. He said hello, and she humphed.
Kacie was standing near Toby, and found his cheap after-shave overpowering. Maybe when they all started cooking, the food smells would mask it. She almost turned and told him not to wear that shit next time, but decided her nose might be too sensitive, or she might be extra irritated with him because of her hopeless fantasies about grabbing his hips and pulling his dick toward her.
After they were all assembled again, Shelley told them to look shocked and awed if they knew what was good for them. Enter Madame Queen in her ensemble. She made a speech about her absolute power while Ricky duck-walked around shooting up at her to make her look impressive.
“Don’t shoot into my nostrils,” she told the cameraman.
After the speech, they were assembled in a waiting room full of folding chairs and boring magazines. Shelley took them ou
t one at a time to record reaction clips in the lounge, a bare room with pink walls, neon green furniture, and a large TKN logo painted on the wall.
Kacie said, “I’m really impressed by Madame Queen. She is one powerful judge. The gumbo she was cooking this morning smells good, too. It almost covers up Chef Brutus’ crappy aftershave.”
Shelley asked her to talk about each of her competitors. She said. “Alia is really nice. I wouldn’t mess with Maryann. I didn’t get a chance to try Vegas’ food yet. Chef Louie makes some great espresso. Eloise has worked for a bunch of Michelin Star chefs, but that doesn’t mean she’s a lock to win. All of us have skills, right? Buster is a complete asshole, and I’m taking him down.”
“What about Chef Brutus?” Shelley asked.
“He’s a great chef. His food is awesome. I think he’s my main competition.”
After, she wanted to kick herself. She was determined to be tough on the charming prick in person, so why was she praising him in a sound-byte? Was he really her main competition? They were sure to tell him she had said that. What if he said something different?
It took more than an hour to shoot all the sound-bytes. Louie was tongue-tied and needed several redos, while Alia was shy and required coaxing.
Eventually they were sent back upstairs, where Buster started lunch and the rest of them sat on the sofas with the TV blasting. Buster recruited Toby to help him. Kacie sat with Maryann and discussed the cases on a court show they were watching.
Buster appeared an hour later with narrow dishes layered with transparent ravioli filled with white fish, pine nuts, and pickled radish. The plates came with a watery, citrus-infused liquid for dipping each raviolo so it would dissolve faster in the mouth.
It was a clever meal, and the pickled radish was obviously his attempt to prove he could copy her flavors. A few ravioli on a plate, though, wasn’t enough to fill the bellies of the stressed-out chefs. Maryann made her displeasure known to Buster.
Kacie had no idea how transparent ravioli were made, but she was sure that if extra liquid besides saliva was needed to dissolve them in the mouth, there was something gross among the ingredients. She’d find out eventually how it was done, but for now, her focus was on her own growling belly. How was she supposed to be her best and cook on-camera without enough to eat?
The chefs elevatored back to Kitchen One and stood around for an hour while Shelley and Vince discussed camera setups and Ricky and the other cameramen niggled at their equipment.
Toby came and stood by her, leaning in to whisper. She leaned away, but not too far to hear him. “Did I fix the aftershave problem?” he asked. “I tried water and baking soda on my cheeks. Buster was ragging on me like crazy.”
Kacie’s own cheeks burned. She had expected her comment to be repeated to him asking for comment, but hadn’t expected him to feel bad about it. She looked up into his eyes, black with blue highlights. He had such gorgeous eyes, the blue swimming in the darkness like koi in a pool by moonlight, and his look was so expectant.
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” she whispered back. “They told us to trash-talk each other, that’s all. The aftershave wasn’t really that bad.”
“Is your nose really sensitive?” He scratched the side of his own. “Mine is. It helps my palate a lot, but I hate sharing a men’s room.” His mouth drooped. “Sorry.”
“Are you pouting?” Kacie challenged him. She wanted him to stop pouting before she could no longer resist the urge to lick his face. “Don’t pout on my account, please. Wait till Eloise does something you don’t like.”
She was surprised when he put his hand on her arm. His expression was a mixture of anger and sadness. He was holding back an outburst. “If I have something going with Eloise, then why am I talking to you? Jesus Christ. No need to be suspicious.”
Although they were whispering, Eloise evidently heard her name and approached. “Everything okay?” she asked at full volume. “Hey, Kacie, great breakfast today. I used to get kimbaps at Dae Jang Keum on the occasional business lunch. Yours were better. Toby, come, I want to ask you something.” She took his arm and pulled him away.
With Toby out of the way, Kacie focused on slowing her breathing. Why was he talking to her anyway? Was it really true he had nothing going with Eloise? But if he didn’t, then why had Eloise saved him from the awkward conversation? This was all a stupid distraction anyway. There was no way Kacie could compete with a tall pony-tailed blond with a perfect tan who could cook just as well as she could. Well, she still had something to say if she could find an opening. She inched toward them, listening.
“…bad temper could be concealing some hidden pain. You never know with that kind of girl.”
Was Eloise counseling him about her? Fuck that. She went from a cautious approach to a bold one. “Toby,” she said loudly, “since I insulted you in that sound-byte, you have to get me back on your next one. Say something mean, okay?”
“I’m not like that,” he answered plaintively. “That’s not how I treat people.”
“Just do it. It’s good TV. Eloise, I’m sure you can think of a good put-down for him to use.” Kacie turned on her heel and marched away. These two were not allowed to play with her head.
She joined Alia and Louie, who were at least both smiling as they talked. Both nodded to her and carried on.
“I believe in peace,” Alia said. “Really, that’s what Islam is about. A peaceful community.”
“But there are so many rules,” Louie said. “Right? Doesn’t it control you? Like, you can’t show your hair, and you can’t eat pork?”
“I can show my hair if I want. No one tells me what to do. I follow my own way. I like to wear a headscarf. It reminds me of the person I want to be. And you get to where you don’t notice it anymore, even working over a hot stove.”
“But pork chops, ham, bacon, they’re so good.”
Alia smiled. “They sure are. I ate them when I was a kid. But it’s the same thing. When I see them, or I smell them, and I choose not to eat, that reminds me of the person I want to be. And I’m a little slimmer, too.”
“That’s really awesome,” Louie said. “And really, I always think the headscarves look pretty on the Muslim girls. But it must be hard to be a chef when you can’t use one of the most popular ingredients.”
Kacie felt nicely camouflaged standing next to them. She was sure Toby and Eloise were talking about her. When she snuck a glimpse at them, she saw they were looking at her. She turned her back on them and listened to her colleagues instead.
“…bison, elk, venison. When I can get them. I had an elk special at my restaurant, and it was packed all week. Elk’s not common in my neighborhood. The food cost was too high – I lost money, actually, that week-- but I felt like I was serving my community, and I got a lot of new loyal customers. Usually I make fish.”
“I made a ragu with elk one time at a competition in Chicago,” Louie said.
“Oh, I’d love to try that,” Alia said.
“Me, too,” Kacie inserted.
“Maybe dinner tomorrow,” Louie suggested. “Alia, you want to help me in the kitchen?”
“That sounds fun.”
Louie looked lamely at Kacie. “Sorry, I should have asked you, too.”
“Another time.”
Shelley shouted for attention. “Setups are done. Break up your fuck-fests and start looking competitive, hmm? Get on your marks.”
There was a taped X on the floor for each of them. They moved to their marks. Standing there trembling, Kacie realized she’d made an ass of herself with Toby and Eloise. She had been too emotional, and revealed her suspicions. Eloise would get over it, but Kacie owed the country boy yet another apology. She would get it right. She would.
Cameraman Ricky knelt on the floor, shooting up at Madame Queen as she posted heroically to address them. Vince, behind a fixed camera, was apparently scanning back and forth among the eight of them.
“I know you are all waiting to know wh
at challenge I will set you first. You are all eager to prove yourselves and show off your individual talents. It would be normal, I suppose, were you each to present to me a signature dish in your own style. Would you like to do that? Hmm, Chef Camacho?”
“I’m ready to cook, Madame Queen,” Vegas answered. “I’ll be inspired by thoughts of my wife and family, when I…”
“Save that for later, sir,” she snapped. “This is not a normal program. This is an exceptional program. You do not face normal challenges in Madame Queen’s kitchen. You face exceptional challenges. You must find a way to make your own style show – while cooking dishes in pairs. That is right, Chef Camacho. You don’t get to work alone today.” She turned slightly and took up a flour tin from the counter behind her. “In this can are eight lots. You will each take one. Five of them have no markings. The others are labeled one, two and three. If you draw one of those lots, you get to select your partner. The two not selected will be partners as well. Partners, you ask? Yes. You and your partner will plan together and have one hour to execute a pair of signature dishes – that go perfectly together. An appetizer and an entrée? An entrée and a dessert? Two proteins upon separate plates? That is for the two of you to decide. However, to win the challenge, you must both pair well with your partner and cook an excellent dish in your own style. The worst team today will face a cook-off against each other, with an ingredient of my choice, with the loser receiving a strike. Any questions, children?”
“I’m not a child,” Maryann said.
“Strike one,” said Madame Queen.
“What?”
“Strike one. Change your attitude, Chef Chen. No one may argue with me in MY kitchen.”
Maryann took a deep breath, cursed softly in Chinese. Kacie knew those words, even though her high school Chinese teacher had never spoken them.
“Now,” said Madame Queen, “just so you know there are no hard feelings, you may draw the first lot.”
Maryann stalked up to the judge and inserted her trim hand into the proffered flour tin. She pulled out a plastic token with no markings on it.