by Andrew Grey
“That’s perfect,” Claude said. “I love that face. You feel free to make it any time you don’t like something. We’ll build some of the promo around it, and everyone is going to tune in to see what could taste so bad.”
“Good God,” Meyer mumbled, “you haven’t changed a bit. I thought your taste buds would grow up at some point.”
I glanced around the table and saw that everyone had heard. “And I figured you might have learned that not everyone is exactly like you. If they were, then the world would be up to its ears in jackass.” I plastered on a smile and dared Meyer to one-up me. Instead, he blushed. God, I really loved to win. “I’m so sorry, Claude. Please continue.”
He said nothing about the little drama, but I could have sworn dollar signs flashed behind his eyes. I’d seen enough competition shows to know that drama was worth its weight in gold. And, hell, if Meyer wanted to be snarky, then I could meet him snark for snark, and let the better snarker win.
“We are finalizing the shooting schedule now and the set is still being built, but we’d like to run through a few mock episodes tomorrow in order to make everyone familiar with the format, what to expect, and so that everyone can get used to the cameras.” He looked right at me when he said that last part, and I nodded. “Are there any questions?” Which everyone else seemed to take as “you better not have any, and if you do, ask them privately,” because it was the only time the room was quiet.
I raised my hand anyway. “What are shooting days like? What time should I plan to be here?”
Claude nodded. “Good question. We will post a detailed schedule each day with set call times, which means you need to be here two hours earlier for makeup, wardrobe, and other prep. The days are long—I won’t sugarcoat it. You will have a trailer where you can rest when you aren’t needed on set. If you have any other detail questions, Justin can provide any information you need. But….” Claude looked around the room and got very serious. “Things go wrong, we know that. They always do. Days get longer, and some challenges will have unusual start times. I expect everyone to pull their weight and do their part to make this season as successful as the others.” He stood to indicate that the meeting was over, and everyone began filing out of the room.
“I bet there’s a story between the two of you,” Rachel said with a glint in her eye.
I said nothing to confirm as Meyer grew tense enough to fly apart. “Meyer and I had a difference of opinion before he left Philadelphia. That’s all. He and I left a lot of things unsaid, and I think they festered for longer than either of us realized.” I stood and followed the others out to where Justin waited for me.
“That was interesting,” Justin said with a wink. My friend was fully aware that I was gay. I hadn’t hidden it while I was in college, which was a point of contention with Meyer—just one of what turned out to be many.
“We don’t gossip, do we?” I asked Justin, and his eyes widened.
He shook his head. “I know more secrets than anyone else realizes. That’s part of how you get ahead here. Keep your mouth shut, look, listen, and compile as much knowledge as you can.” The part about using it at the appropriate time was left unsaid, but I got the idea.
“How very Machiavellian of you,” I countered, with a smile of my own. I had the idea that my visit was going to be fun, but when the show was over, I was going to be more than ready to leave this land of make-believe and intrigue to go back home.
“It’s survival.” Justin led the way out. “Let’s go over to the set so I can familiarize you with how things flow and where you’ll be spending a lot of your time.”
“Aren’t we going to get in the way?” I asked as I followed.
“No. I already informed the crew that we were coming over. They are working to finish up the kitchen settings. We’re going to spend time in the judging studio.” He pulled open the door. There was just as much activity going on as there had been before, but Justin walked around the edge, staying out of the work area, and then we entered a back area with a large desk surrounded by stainless-steel panels broken up by lattice. It looked like a very sleek restaurant without the tables.
“This is awesome,” I said, glancing around.
“Your place is right on the end here. Meyer will sit next to you, then Rachel, and the last seat is for the weekly guest chef,” Justin said, motioning as he spoke.
I walked behind the desk and took a seat on one of the padded high-seated chairs. “It seems low.” Actually, I felt like I was a kid at the grown-up table. Hell, maybe I was.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be adjusted for each of you so all four people are the same height.” Justin stood in front of the desk. “The chef contestants will be standing there. The lighting will be dramatic, and you’ll talk to them.”
“Is each of us miked?” That was going to take some getting used to.
“In some cases, yes. But in here, the room will be set up so we can turn off various areas to minimize background noise. We use boom microphones, and if you look up, you’ll see them in the ceiling. They get lowered when they’re needed, then turned off and retracted so only the areas we wish to hear will make it to tape.”
“Well, look at little Luke, sitting at the table with the big boys,” Meyer said as he strolled in, barely giving Justin a second look.
“Who are you, the big man on campus?” I grinned. “You know, I really do know the kind of man you are.” I held Meyer’s gaze hard for a few seconds. “You certainly can be an ass when you want. That hasn’t changed.”
He didn’t pause as he approached the desk. “You’re actually going to do this?”
I chuckled. “I’m already contracted. Signed, sealed, and here I am.” I leaned over the desk. “Why don’t you cut the crap and act like a real person instead of this fake asshole you seem to have become.” I knew what I had seen in him—then. But I was starting to wonder if there was anything of that man left. At one time Meyer had been attentive and kind, at least when we were alone. He used to smile in a way that could warm you through, and when he did, one gaze was enough to speed up my heart until I swore it beat loudly enough for the entire world to hear. “You used to be decent.” I stood and slowly walked back around the desk to Justin. “I think I’ve seen what I need to here. I assume that I’m not just going to be in this area?” Meyer excused himself and left, checking his phone.
“No. You and Rachel will host some of the appetizer rounds, and those generally get judged in the kitchen area. I’m sure they’ll take you through those in the mock-ups so you can get used to how the cameras follow you.”
I nodded, wondering what I was going to do to get the hang of this. “I’m not a television personality. What if I screw this up?”
“The biggest thing is for you to just be yourself. The camera operators are pros and will get the best angles. You speak to the contestants, and they’ll capture it.” Justin turned to me, as serious as a heart attack. “You can do anything you choose to. Remember senior year? You didn’t know anything about sports and didn’t play, but when they threatened to cut intramurals because of the cost, you fought it as hard as any of us because you thought it was important that sports be open to everyone, not just the people on the teams, and you joined a baseball team just to make your point.”
I laughed. “Yeah, and I sucked so badly, and my team ended up in last place.”
“True, but we all had fun, and the college relented and kept the sports program. That was the real goal, not for you to learn baseball. This”—Justin motioned around us—“isn’t baseball. It’s more like the fight. Be passionate and yourself, and it will come through to the viewers.”
The workmen were still bustling around the set, so Justin took me out without stopping and we got into the car.
“Can we get lunch? I’d prefer a salad or something light, and then if I’m not needed, I’d like to go back to the apartment.”
“Sure.” Justin’s phone dinged, and he tapped and studied it while the car moved for
ward, eventually turned around, and passed through the gates. “I got your schedule, and they believe they will have the set ready in two days. They have the first walk-through scheduled for Thursday, with members of the crew standing in as chefs.”
“Good. Then I have a few days to get some other work done and try to get over this time change.” It was only three hours, but just enough to kick my butt, especially in the morning.
“Yes. Use the car for the next few days. The driver will give you his number.” Justin slid closer in the back seat, and I flashed him a warning look in case he was getting too familiar, then turned to watch out the windows as street upon street of low-rise buildings passed outside for as far as the eye could see. “Tell me, what is it with you and Meyer? Is it going to affect the show?”
“I doubt it. Meyer and I will figure things out eventually. We have to work together, and Meyer is many things, but he isn’t about to shoot himself in the foot and damage his professional reputation. He has too much riding on it.” I sighed and tried not to think about him.
Once we reached the building after stopping for a light lunch, I got out of the car, thanked Felix, and went inside and up to the apartment, where Rosco greeted me by rubbing my legs and meowing to let me know he missed me—or probably because he was hungry. I fed and watered him, then sat at my computer to try to work.
I didn’t. As soon as I woke up my laptop, I searched for information on Meyer. I found the usual entertainment articles and things, stuff I already knew. But as I continued down the list, I wondered about a page from a children’s cancer charity. I clicked on it, and there was Meyer smiling at the top of the article, surrounded by kids in one of his restaurants. As I continued, I found more articles and stories. It seemed Meyer did a lot of work with charities. There were dinners at various restaurants, banquets, and other events where he was a guest chef, donating his name and talent for the benefit of others.
I had always known that somewhere deep down was a good person. That had been part of why I’d stayed around for so long, I guess. At least Hollywood hadn’t changed him so completely. That was good to know.
I stared at a picture of Meyer in his chef whites behind a table, grinning as he did what he did best—cook up a storm.
I closed the browser as Rosco jumped on my lap. “Yeah, I know. It’s time to go to work.” Rosco made himself comfortable, and I sat back to try to get something accomplished, but my thoughts kept wandering.
Chapter 3
“DO THEY want me in makeup?” I asked once I located Justin standing off to the side of the set the following Thursday.
“Not today. Though after the rehearsals, we’ll take you over so they can figure out what’s best to do. When you’re in the kitchen, you’ll have minimal stuff on because of the steam and things. But when you’re judging, the makeup folks will have you looking your television best.” Justin motioned toward the set, which was all laid out with stainless-steel worktables, ovens, stoves, pantries, and racks of dishes and pans. It was quite impressive.
“Everyone,” the director said as he came over. “Ethan Kilgard,” he said with a genuine smile as he shook my hand. “It’s great to meet you. I’m sorry I couldn’t earlier, but I had to supervise. You’re Luke Walker. I love your blog.” He leaned closer. “And I hate bananas as much as you do.”
A kindred spirit of sorts. “Thank you.”
“Rachel and Meyer, let’s go over this,” Ethan said, and they came over. “We aren’t going to be cooking anything today, but the crew is going to stand in for the contestants. They’ll present their plates, and I want Rachel and Luke to pretend to taste them and then react. Go from station to station, talk, chat, taste, and move on. Crew, you have descriptions of your dishes, so present them like you’re proud of them, and we’ll just run through it. We will be taping, but only so we can get Luke used to the camera. Okay… let’s go. Action.”
“As a reminder, each chef was to make their signature mushroom appetizer,” Rachel said, as though she was on the show. “What do you have for us, Julio?”
Julio smirked. “Grilled portobello mushrooms with lemon and caper crème, over cauliflower puree,” he said, and damned if my throat didn’t threaten to seize up.
Rachel pretend tasted, and then I did.
“It tastes a little salty to me,” she said as she considered the dish.
I tried to come up with something insightful that would roll off my tongue, and stumbled.
“It’s okay, Luke. Think of the dish and what you think it would taste like,” Ethan prompted.
“Be yourself,” Justin said from the wings.
I took another pretend taste. “Tastes like dirt with cream sauce over a mushy puree of battery acid,” I blurted in my nervousness.
The others snickered, and even Rachel covered her mouth.
“For God’s sake,” Meyer interrupted loudly. “You need to act like you know what the hell you’re doing. You can’t even fake it during rehearsal. How are you going to eat the real food?” I didn’t need to see Meyer to know he was probably shaking his head and rolling his eyes halfway to the ceiling. I was well acquainted with that look.
“That was perfect,” Ethan said. “An honest reaction. It’s just what we want. Luke, lay it on as thick as you want. Say what you think, just like in the blog. Now, don’t use up your best quips in rehearsal. Save it for the real show.” He could barely contain his glee.
“Oh my God. This is going to be a circus,” Meyer groaned.
“And who will be the gorilla?” I said over my shoulder.
Rachel and I continued down the line, repeating the process at each station. Then we stepped back to a small piece of tape on the floor to deliberate.
“If you make those quips during the show, I’m going to have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing,” Rachel whispered as we pretended to think about what we had just eaten.
“Challenge accepted,” I retorted, and then we turned to the camera, facing forward.
“Luke, will you announce the winner?”
“The contestant whose dish made me least likely to gag is… Rodney.” I was getting into it now, and Rachel doubled over with laughter as Rodney put his hands in the air in celebration of his mock win.
“Ethan, you can’t be serious,” Meyer said. “This is really what you want?”
“From him, yes. Viewers thought the last few seasons were too stuffy. He’s going to bring some humor and lightheartedness to the show. You and Rachel are to play it straight. Luke, don’t go overboard, but keep it real, and the viewers are going to love you. Most of the time, you should keep a straight face and be serious, but every now and then, let it fly. It will have more impact. Now, I want to run it again, this time quicker. This should take only a few minutes. We’ll edit out any mistakes and fumbles, but we need to keep the show moving.”
We repeated the exercise, and it went more smoothly. I stopped paying attention to where the camera was every second and interacted with the contestants and Rachel. I kept it businesslike and did my best to learn.
“That was great. Very natural and real. You looked good, Rachel. Now, let’s run through a final judging.” Ethan moved everything to the other area, the crew took their places as contestants, and we went through the final process a couple of times. I was acutely conscious of Meyer, so I was quieter with him right next to me. We were talking things over, and I knew that in a real show, a lot of what we said would be cut in order to try to hide who we thought the winner was until the actual announcement was made.
Rachel asked our absent guest to announce the winner, and then she told the loser that their kitchen was closed. I had seen the show enough that this part was quite easy.
“Luke, don’t be nervous. And you need to talk more. Let Rachel guide the conversation so you don’t talk over each other, but when your time comes, you need to express your opinion. Say what you like and what you don’t. And remember, you have just as much say as Meyer, Rachel, and our guest judge.”
“THIS IS going to be a shitshow,” Meyer said into his phone. I knew he was referring to me, and it pissed me off. I sat in one of the makeup chairs, where they were trying various things to get the look right.
“Excuse me,” I said softly, and got up out of the chair. Meyer had his back to me, so I guess he thought that meant his voice wouldn’t carry. The makeup robe fluttered over my clothes as I approached. Meyer must have heard me coming, because he turned just in time for me to snatch his cell phone and disconnect the call. “If you have a problem, you talk about it. Don’t act like some little weasel on the goddamned phone, whining like a little baby.” That I was sure everyone heard. Then I stepped close enough that only Meyer could hear. “Let go of the fear. I’m not going to say anything or betray your privacy. But you need to stop acting like the biggest dick on the face of the earth.” I stepped back again. “And for God’s sakes, stop taking yourself and everything else so seriously, or else that stick you have lodged halfway up your ass is going to break off.” I turned, went back to my makeup chair, and sat back down as though nothing had happened.
Meyer stared at me, his lower lip and jaw working. I knew he was grinding his expensive dental work, but the guy needed to lighten up. He was way too serious.
“What would you have made for that appetizer challenge?” I knew him well enough to know that giving him something else to talk about might ease the tension.
“Something with mushrooms so you might like it?” He shook his head. “There is nothing that anyone can do to make mushrooms palatable for you. They’re in that category of things that you can taste from a mile away and can’t stand.”
“Yup….” I met his gaze.
“The only time you willingly ate them was on a pizza once, when they were cut really small and it was too difficult to pick them off. And even then you said they made the pizza taste dirty.” Finally Meyer laughed. “You never liked the things in any way. But if I were to try, I’d use plenty of garlic and other flavorings to mask the ‘dirt’ flavor you hate. The other judges might criticize it, but it would be the one dish you would be most likely to eat.”