“Thanks, Darrin. That’s everyone. We streamlined the number of contestants to six for the inaugural season. We’re learning as we go, but hopefully this will be the catalyst for a long run.
“Okay, we’ve kept this under wraps, but I know you’re all dying to know all about the format, so here’s how it works. Each episode will be different. You won’t know what you’re cooking until the cameras start to roll. You’ll have a list of three ingredients you must use. No exceptions. Plus, you’ll have access to the Palmer’s Pantry, sponsored by Palmer’s chain of specialty grocery stores. You should be able to find anything you’ll need there. No recipes allowed…this show will test your improvisation skills. Sometimes you won’t even know what the food will taste like. Use your background and training. And there are no rules on what you make. For example, if the ingredients were tabasco sauce, chives and ground beef, and you could whip that into a dessert dish, go for it. We’re looking for creativity as well as culinary talent. But remember, you only have one hour. As soon as the buzzer sounds, you’re done, no matter what. I don’t care if the oven timer says thirty seconds to go. You’ll be disqualified from the judging and lose those points from your score.
“We’ll have an intro with filler that will be shot during the week, then the announcement of the day’s ingredients. It will all be edited down so that the last fifteen minutes of the show will be the judging and then the results of the audience vote. The person with the lowest combined score will leave the show immediately.”
Ronald held up his hand and waved it around.
Kendall looked amused, “You have a question, Ronald?”
“Yes, how does the judging work?”
She smiled at him. “I’m getting to that.”
He slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”
“No problem. For each episode, we will have a panel of three expert judges. Two will be with us all season—”
The door opened and everyone turned as a man and woman entered. Kait’s gaze snapped to Dan leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed. Apparently he’d talked his way onto the set. It didn’t hurt that Kendall’s fiancé worked for his brother. She hadn’t noticed him when she was giving her introduction, so he was doing a good job of staying hidden. He gave her a two-fingered salute.
“Perfect timing,” Kendall said as she greeted the newcomers. “Everyone, this is Lucretia Lettiere.” Kait’s gaze whipped from Dan to focus on Lucretia. She was Dion’s mother. She’d never met the woman but she was a legend in the culinary world. She was tall with dark hair pulled starkly back from a striking face and secured in a bun at the back of her head. Her skin was a flawless olive color and her eyes were a golden brown. If Kait didn’t know better, she would guess the woman was mid-forties, certainly not the sixty years she knew her to be. Her face was unlined, no doubt thanks to plastic surgery. Her hair was as black as a raven’s wing, not a strand of gray. She wore a large intricate necklace made of metal and stones and looked more like a work of art than a piece of jewelry. It was probably one of her daughter’s originals. Viola McArthur was a world-famous jewelry designer and her pieces started in the four-figure range.
Kendall continued with the introduction. “Ms. Lettiere has been a contributor and editor of several magazines, including currently serving as editor-in-chief of Taste magazine. She owns a dozen successful restaurants around the country and she hosts the popular show Everyday Elegance.” The woman’s lips moved in what was probably supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a grimace.
“I’m guessing botox,” Ronald murmured.
“And this is Grady Cannon.”
Kait shuddered. Grady Cannon was a no-holds-barred food critic who delighted in bashing chefs and restaurants alike. He was often mean-spirited, mocking and just plain horrible. He reveled in reducing chefs to tears and even laughed at their distress. He’d hate her cooking, she feared.
“Mr. Cannon has served as a food critic for numerous major newspapers across the country including the Washington Post, the New York Times and the Chicago Tribune. He’s currently the host of The Grading Gourmet.”
“I may have even graded some of you,” he said with a mock frown pointing around the room to nervous chuckles. Grady was approximately five-seven, five-eight. His pencil-thin mustache framed narrow lips and his eyes were small and beady. He was never photographed without his trademark bowler hat. Kait had heard gossip that his hairline had receded as quickly as his waistline expanded. Standing next to tall, exotic Lucretia, they were the spitting image of Boris and Natasha.
“Both Ms. Lettiere and Mr. Cannon will be with us for the entire first season and we are so honored to have them on board. We felt like we hit the jackpot when they both agreed to judge.”
Kait almost snorted out loud. The network owned them both. If the higher-ups said jump, they’d jump.
“Ms. Lettiere and Mr. Cannon will provide feedback and critique for each of you. Additionally, there will be a surprise third guest judge each episode. The judges will sample each dish and provide a score based on taste, presentation and appearance. That number will count for three-fourths of your score. The remaining twenty-five percent will be audience vote. Each of you will have a number for people to call in so they vote for you.”
“Can I have my number now so I can tweet it?” Keisei asked without looking up from his iPhone. His fingers were flying over the buttons.
“But that’s not fair,” Shandee complained. ‘They won’t be able to taste the food.”
“The number will be available tomorrow, Keisei. And Shandee, no, they won’t be able to taste the food,” Kendall agreed. “But CuisineTV is looking for their next break-out television star. They want someone who is likeable, fun and connects with the audience. Although they won’t get the chance to sample your cooking, those votes are important. It tells the network that people will tune in to watch you each week.”
“So it’s a popularity contest,” Joy grumbled.
Kendall shrugged. “In a way, yes. But that vote only counts for a fourth of your score. First and foremost, you need to wow the experts.”
“So is it fair if someone comes in wearing a mini-skirt and heels, trying to get votes that way?” Darrin asked, clearly meaning Shandee.
“However you want to get votes is up to you,” Kendall told him. “If you want to tweet it to the world or don your highest pair of Louboutins, you’re welcome to try, Darrin.”
“I didn’t mean me,” he groused.
“I’m not going to tell anyone what they can and can’t wear,” Kendall continued. “No nudity, of course, but you are all required to wear the chef jacket provided, so that takes care of what most people will see on television anyway. There is a time limit, so there will be a lot of hurrying around to prepare a dish. I wouldn’t think it would be in anyone’s best interest to arrive in four inch heels or a diamond-encrusted bustier.”
Joy didn’t look appeased. Shandee looked disappointed.
“The show will be taped—that’s per the network’s requirement—but there will be a small live audience, as you all know since you’ve each been offered tickets for your families and friends. We’ve heavily promoted the event and the response has been encouraging. The tickets are sold out for the first taping.
“The set consists of two warehouses: the one we’re in right now that houses the offices and meeting rooms, and one next door that is the actual stage. We’ll film the first episode this afternoon but it won’t air until tomorrow night. We’re doing two shows a week, so it will be broadcast on Monday nights and Thursday nights. The votes will be tabulated and the contestant with the lowest combined score will be sent home. Make sure you pack your suitcase each episode. If you’re voted off, you will be going home immediately.
“I’m sure you’ve all brought your bags with you. In a few minutes we’ll bus you to the house where you’ll be staying during the run of the show. Remember, this is reality television. Filler will be filmed continuously, so be
on your best behavior. Nothing is off-limits except the bathroom.”
“Are we allowed to leave the house?” Keisei asked.
“You aren’t prisoners, but you will need special permission and a chaperone if you have to leave. You’ve all committed to three weeks and signed the appropriate forms. There’s plenty to do, so you shouldn’t get bored. We have a couple of group trips planned, too, if time allows.”
“Do we get to pick our own rooms and roommates?” Joy asked.
Kendall shook her head. “Your room has been assigned to you. There are well over six bedrooms so you won’t have to share.”
“What about bathrooms?” Joy’s gaze swung to Kait. “I’m sure there are some people who take more than their fair share of time getting ready.”
Kait could tell Kendall was getting pissed and probably cursing whoever’s bright idea it was to add Joy to the cast. “You’re all adults. You can work that out amongst yourselves.”
“What if there’s a problem?” Ronald asked “Will you be staying with us?”
“No.” She motioned to two people who stepped forward. “This is Abigail and Mason Rossi. They’ll be staying at the house with you.”
“Oh my,” Ronald breathed and Kait agreed. Mason Rossi stood at least six-four with bulging muscles accentuated by a snug black t-shirt. His dark hair was cut high and tight, but growing out on top. His eyes were laser blue, even from this distance. Kait detected a slight limp when he walked to the front of the room, but it did nothing to detract from his rugged masculinity.
“It’s Abby,” the woman said. “I won’t answer to Abigail.”
“I stand corrected,” Kendall murmured.
Abigail, or Abby, was tall for a female, probably five-eight, but she looked petite next to her giant of a husband. Much like Lucretia, Abby’s brown hair was drawn back and secured at the base of her head in bun. She was beautiful but her green eyes were cold. She wore an air of superiority and arrogance. Totally unapproachable.
“Mason and Abby are former Marines, so don’t try to pull anything on them. You won’t get away with it. No drugs. No porn. Nothing like that. If something comes up that they can’t handle, they’ll get in touch with me.”
“What about our vehicles?” Darrin questioned.
“We have a secure lot here on the set where you’ll park your cars during your stay on the show. You’ll be bussed back and forth to the studio in a passenger van.”
Next, Kendall introduced the camera crew and technicians. Benji and Bryce looked overjoyed to be interns helping with the production. “The six men and women on the camera crew will be staying at the house with you, so the cameras could click on at any time. Remember, you signed a confidentiality agreement so you can’t speak about the details to anyone. Not your spouse or parents or mailman. If details leak and we trace it back to you, you will be held in breach of your contract. If there are no more questions, we’ll get you to the house now so you can settle in. Mason and Abig…er, Abby will bring you back this afternoon for the first taping.”
#
Mason Rossi studied the contestants as they introduced themselves, memorizing names and faces. It wasn’t a large group so it wouldn’t be difficult. It wasn’t the most glamorous gig serving as a live-in chaperone to contestants on a reality TV show, but he was happy to have the work. After the accident that ended his Force Recon career—and almost took his leg—he was thankful for something to distract him from brooding over the end of his military life.
He glanced at his wife, disappointed in her sour attitude. She hadn’t wanted to take this job and truthfully, it hadn’t been offered to her. His former teammate and good friend Aiden Hill contacted him about the opportunity. Aiden had recently signed on with COBRA Securities and wanted Mason to join him. He’d love to work for the renowned company if they’d have him, but he had to rehabilitate his leg first. Aiden had passed his contact information to Kendall Buckley and when she called and offered him the job, he accepted with the stipulation that his wife be allowed to chaperone as well. Kendall readily agreed, happy to have another person with training on site.
Mason thought it would be a good opportunity to work on their marriage, though he was pretty sure it was irrevocably damaged. A few weeks sequestered in a house would be the most time they’d spent together during their entire tumultuous partnership. But Abby flat declined to play babysitter, as she called it. It was beneath her. He told her he was taking the job anyway and he hoped to meet with the executives at COBRA Securities while he was here. That snagged her attention. She wanted to join the company, too. Abby had been an excellent Marine. She scored high on marksmanship and was proficient in hand-to-hand combat. She would be a good fit, if she could keep her attitude in check. Through Aiden, he’d set her up with Dante Costa so she could start the training required for her to pass the physical tests. It was possible that she could be hired on before him.
Mason closed his eyes and wondered how his life had careened so far off the rails. He had a vocation he loved and was good at, and a beautiful wife at home. Now his career was over, his leg was shattered and his marriage was in ruins. He’d like to think he loved Abby once, but he couldn’t lie to himself. He’d been in lust with her, definitely. They were dynamite together and they spent the first three days after they met in bed. Marriage had seemed like a good idea at the time. But it quickly soured. Abby chose not to reenlist and he later found out about her affairs.
Abby’s father had left her and her mother when she was young and she hadn’t seen him since. Her mother tried to replace him, running through a long string of men, and in the process, her daughter became lost in the shuffle. Abby began acting out to get her mother’s attention, becoming increasingly more volatile. A counselor suggested the military so she enlisted in the Marines. It gave her the structure she needed and she was able to channel her anger into training. But her childhood left scars that Mason didn’t see until after they were married. If he didn’t pay enough attention to her, she would act out to get it. That usually meant sleeping with other men.
It was partly Mason’s fault because he didn’t give her the devotion she craved. While he was on a mission, it was his focus. When he wasn’t, he avoided going home. Her constant nagging had worn thin and he dreaded spending time with her. When he found out about the affairs, it was a relief. He had an out to a partnership that shouldn’t have happened in the first place. When he told her he wanted a divorce, she cried and threw a fit and even threatened suicide. This time together was a last-ditch effort to apply triage to a badly broken union.
Chapter Eight
Kaitlyn gathered her suitcases and joined the group following Mason Rossi outside. She glanced around the parking lot but couldn’t spot Dan anywhere. She knew he was watching her. No matter if they were fighting or not, if he thought she was in danger, he’d never let her out of his sight.
Mason opened the door of a passenger van with the CuisineTV logo emblazoned on the side. The back row of seats had been removed to make room for the luggage. Once it was stowed, including Shandee’s three massive bags, Ronald skipped ahead and slid into the first row. “Yoohoo, Kaitlyn. I’m saving this for you.” He patted the seat next to him.
She smiled and climbed in beside him. Joy followed, lumbering into the row behind them. When she grabbed onto the back of their seat, she snagged a few pieces of Kait’s hair. “Ow.” Kait rubbed her head.
“Sorry,” she said, sounding anything but. Shandee took the seat next to Joy, leaving the third row for Darrin and Keisei.
“All set?” Mason asked as he closed the door. After their consensus, he cranked the ignition and drove out of the lot.
“I’m so excited to see where we’re staying. You’re from here. Do you know where it is?” Ronald was practically bouncing in his seat.
“I have no idea.” And she didn’t. Kendall had been very careful about not sharing too much information. She didn’t want to give anyone ammunition to say that Kait had an advantage. They
made sure to keep their personal connection quiet, too. It wasn’t a secret but it wasn’t something they wanted to broadcast either.
Kait’s ears were burning. Someone was talking about her. Then she heard Joy’s lowered voice. “Besides, you know what they say about never trusting a skinny chef. I bet she throws up everything she eats.”
She knew Joy meant her and it took every bit of willpower Kait possessed not to spin around and confront her. Her brothers had taught her not to take crap from anyone. But she would choose the high road. Being nasty only made Joy look bad. She wouldn’t lower herself to the other woman’s level. Besides, wasn’t Joy insulting Shandee, too? She wasn’t fat.
They drove for a few minutes and then Mason turned down a long blacktopped driveway. He punched a button on a remote and a pair of iron gates slowly swung open.
“Wow,” Ronald gushed as they approached the large house. A circular drive led to a structure that could only be described as a European mansion. Made of limestone, it soared three stories high, with cupolas and balconies attached to several windows. They piled from the van and Mason led them inside. The entry was open to the ceiling. A curved marble staircase surrounded by wrought iron railings led to the second story. A walkway divided two sides of the house like a bridge. Straight ahead was a wall of windows showcasing a massive pool with a slide and waterfall.
“Pool, pool,” Ronald jumped up and down, clapping.
The door opened behind them and three members of the crew entered, cameras rolling.
Mason turned to face the group. “The room Abby and I are sharing is down that hallway,” Mason indicated. “There’s a library and a sitting room as well. The kitchen is here. Down that hall is another two bedrooms that will be unoccupied, as well as music and craft rooms. In the basement, you’ll find a theater, a workout room and game tables. You’ll be staying on the second floor. Each room shares a bathroom with another. Your names are on the doors. The camera crew will occupy the top floor. Go ahead and get settled.” He checked his watch. “We’ll leave for the studio in two hours.”
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