“Dang it,” I say, flopping down in the one across from him. “How did you get the tea done so fast?”
“Made it before we left,” he says. “Just in case.”
“Can you believe they switched everything up?” I ask. “It’s weird.”
He sits up and pours a glass. “All I know is we are still here.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I say, taking the tea he offers me.
When his is full, he lifts it in the air. “To the two loves of Peyton Sinclaire.”
“Shut up,” I say. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh really,” he says, laughing. “Just promise me that when this is all over and the cameras go away, you’re gonna tell me what it is like.”
“I will. Swear.”
He nods. “I was really glad it was the four of us at the end.”
“What, you didn’t want Dani to stick with you to the end?” I say, teasing.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. She was pretty cool to me. I don’t know what it was about you, but she could be ruthless.”
“Yeah, I know, I was there.”
“Funny thing was, when you weren’t in the room, she was chill as hell.”
“Really?” I say, confused. “I just assumed she was talking about me behind my back.”
“Nope. Only to your face.”
“That is weird.”
I lie back and stare up at the sky. “Did you really think you would make it this far?”
“Yes,” Malik says.
“Really?” I ask, turning to look at him.
He looks me dead in the eye and shakes his head at the same time he says, “Yes.”
I laugh, the exhaustion of this experience audible. “Yeah. Same.”
“So, is this how it’s going to be all night? Is your strategy to keep me up so I’m too tired to kick your butt tomorrow?”
“No, but it’s a good idea.”
Silence settles between us as we listen to the buzz of New York City at night.
“Hey, what happened yesterday?” Malik asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, one minute you’re right behind us, and the next minute you and Paulie are nowhere to be found. Then Jessica had to call Caitlin, and she was pissed.”
“She didn’t seem that way when we saw her.”
“Of course not. You gave her a fairy-tale first kiss that’s going to make every guy puke and every girl develop a false idea of what a kiss should be like.”
“And here I thought my key lime pie was my legacy.”
“What really happened?” he presses.
“I don’t know. But something in that show really struck a nerve, you know? That waitress could easily have been me in ten years, and I felt like the world was spinning out of control. Paulie helped me get away from the cameras.”
“I get that,” Malik says. There is a pause as we both relax and let our minds wander. “So what’s next for you?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, you know I will always have a couch for you for whenever you want to visit.”
“Oh, you think you’re going to win tomorrow?”
“Maybe. Doesn’t matter if I don’t. I’m not planning on ever going back to Alabama—there’s no place for me there.”
“What about your family?”
“I think I’m more of a city boy,” he says.
“If you don’t win, you’re just going to… what?”
“Get a job, find a place to live. Not as nice as this, obviously, but something. I’ll figure it out.”
I lie down on my back, my eyes still taking in the night sky. A few minutes later I hear Malik’s breathing slip into a quiet, peaceful rhythm, so I head back down to the bedrooms and grab blankets and pillows. When I return, I drape one of the blankets over Malik and settle in for the night.
From beside me, I hear Malik mumble, “I called it, Florida. First day. You and me to the end.”
“You never told me that,” I say.
“Well, I thought it.”
“Looks like you thought right. And in less than twenty-four hours, it will be all over.”
“You nervous?” he asks.
“No,” I say, shaking my head yes.
“Me neither.”
After a few minutes, I hear his soft breathing and wait for sleep to finally win out.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
WALKING INTO MY DRESSING ROOM THE NEXT morning is a startling and tear-jerking experience. The first thing I see is the unmanned camera planted in the corner. The second thing I notice is the crisp white chef’s jacket hanging on a shepherd’s hook. The third thing I see is the walls, normally unadorned, now sporting a series of photographs from the past few weeks.
“Oh my gosh,” I whisper, looking at each image. However, the girl who is the focus of each picture is someone I barely recognize. I remember feeling nervous and in over my head, but the girl in these pictures, sporting a turquoise jacket, doesn’t look like that. Her head is held high and her smile exudes confidence. I move, frame by frame, studying every one of them for any hint of insecurity. There’s even one picture of Angelica taking a bite of my piecaken, and her face is one that can only be described as delighted. Why couldn’t I see that then?
Slipping my arms into the white jacket that has replaced my turquoise one for the finale, I take a deep breath and close my eyes. A quick rap on the door lets me know that it’s time to head to the set. I take one more moment to enjoy the calm before I embrace the storm of emotions and frantic energy of the kitchen, then I turn and leave my dressing room. When I enter the hallway, no one is there. In fact, I don’t see another person until I reach the double doors leading to the set and see Malik standing there.
Malik gives me a quick nod before turning his attention back to the swinging door.
The PA pulls open the door and gestures for us to enter.
A few minutes later, the set lights up and Jessica looks straight into the camera and says, “Today, weeks of hard work will be put to the test as our finalists compete to find out who is the Top Teen Chef.
“Let’s take a look back on their road from home cooking to the battle of their culinary life.”
The lights dim and our final packages play on the screen at the back of the room. I watch the season flash in front of us and groan to myself as the shots of my disastrous first competition play out. Malik doesn’t hold back and actually laughs, which seems to be okay with the producers because there is not an order from the disembodied voice that tells us to be quiet. As the film fades to black, I wipe away a tear that has managed to escape.
“So here we are,” Jessica says, looking warmly at us both.
“Final two, baby,” Malik says.
A voice booms through the studio. “Not so fast.”
Malik and I look at Jessica in confusion. This is the finals. Surely they wouldn’t put a twist in during the finals? I look around for any clue of what’s about to happen.
Jessica smiles at us. “There might have been one thing we didn’t mention. A little side competition, if you will. Little did you know that, behind the scenes, our past contestants have been taking classes in another part of the city, and one of them has earned a second chance redemption.”
“Are you kidding?” Malik asks.
I can’t even speak.
Angelica motions for us to look toward the swinging doors. “And the redemption contestant is…”
“Please be Paulie,” I mutter under my breath.
The doors swing open.
“I’m back.”
Dani.
“Son of a—” I say, before someone cuts off my mic.
“Cut,” the disembodied voice says. The entire set erupts to make room for Dani’s kitchen station but my eyes are trained on Jessica.
I’m so focused that I don’t see Dani heading toward me. She grabs my elbow and spins me around.
“Hey,” I say, trying to shake her off.
“
We need to talk,” she says, reaching up under my jacket and ripping the mic jack out of the battery pack.
“No, we don’t need to talk,” I say, tugging my arm but unable to get her off me. “You’re hands are like vise grips,” I complain.
“Just shut up and don’t draw attention to us,” she says, pushing the door to the waiting room open and leading me toward the bathroom.
“What the hell, Dani?” I say, finally able to free myself. “You’ve been horrible to me ever since we got here and now you make this surprise return and drag me off like you know where a dead body is and you need me to help you bury it.”
“I owe you an apology,” she says, her eyes locking onto mine.
I did not expect that.
“Excuse me?” I say. “You owe me what?”
“I treated you so bad, and I am so sorry.”
“I don’t understand.”
She sinks down into one of the nearby seats. “I thought you knew.”
I’m still clueless about what she’s talking about. “Knew what?”
“That we were supposed to be rivals on the show.”
“Rivals?” I ask, still not getting it.
“Yeah, you know, spoiled socialite with a famous chef for a father versus the trailer park Barbie.”
“Oh,” I say, starting to comprehend.
“Caitlin said you knew and were on board.”
I laugh. “Caitlin says a lot of things.”
“Peyton, you have to believe me. I would never have said any of those things if I thought for a second you believed I meant them.”
“Well, assuming this is all true, I have to hand it to you. You played your role perfectly. But I’m curious, how did you figure out I was out of the loop?”
“You didn’t use your advantage against me.”
“I didn’t use it against Lola,” I correct her.
She nods. “I get that. But if you were really gunning for me, you would have used it anyway. When you didn’t, I started putting the pieces together.”
“So was there really a secret competition?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “When I got cut, Caitlin told me to stick around. That she wanted to resurrect my spot. I told her I had plans with my dad and couldn’t do anything after today.”
“Which is why she decided on a double elimination for the last challenge.”
Dani’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
I nod. “Oh yeah. Hakulani and Paulie both went home yesterday.”
“I didn’t know. I swear. I bet she brought me back thinking that it would cause some sort of drama.”
“What do we do?”
She shakes her head. “There’s not much we can do. Part of our contract was signing a nondisclosure agreement that says we can’t bad-mouth the show, the network, or anyone associated with the show or the network.”
“Oh course it does. But I was talking about today,” I say, wiping my hands on my jacket.
“I don’t know. Do we play along or get real?” Dani looks up at me, waiting for me to come up with some kind of answer.
I shrug. “I really don’t know.”
“If Caitlin finds out I told you, neither of us stands a chance to win. And I’m fine with that, but I heard you telling someone that you really needed this scholarship, and I don’t want to wreck it for you.”
“Then I guess we keep up the charade,” I say. “For one more day.”
“There’s one more thing,” she says, looking nervous again. “Caitlin made me a deal last night, and I wanted to tell you about it.”
“What kind of deal?”
“The kind where I win the finale.”
I lean against the wall because I’m not sure I can handle whatever she’s going to say next. “What’s in it for her?”
“Ratings,” Dani answers. “Dad said she pitched this show on the premise she could pull off the entire show in less than three weeks. She told the network it was going to bridge the gap for those teen foodies who also want drama and conflict.”
“And then she made sure there was both.”
Dani nods. “Pretty much. Also, there’s an automatic advantage.”
“Really? And does this have something to do with your winning the show?” I ask.
“You are correct.”
“So what is it?”
“The whole cast is coming back.”
“Are you serious?”
The hope and excitement in my voice must have been too obvious, because then Dani huffs out a sigh and says quickly, “Focus. Any minute now they’re going to realize your mic isn’t working. If they haven’t already.”
“Sorry.”
“The deal is, each finalist can select one of the eliminated cast members to be our sous chef. If I pick Paulie, Caitlin promised she would make sure I won.”
“Because Paulie and I are… I don’t know what we are, but we are something.”
“Yeah.”
I look at her. “Thank you. I really appreciate you telling me.”
“I couldn’t stand it if you thought that was the real me.”
I half laugh, half sigh. “I’m not sure any of us were ever able to be the real version of ourselves.”
“Good thing we have our lives to figure it out.” She reaches under my jacket to plug my mic back in. “For what it’s worth, I hope you win,” she says before reconnecting me.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
WE RETURN TO THE SET AND STALK AWAY FROM each other. When Dani walks near Caitlin, she mutters something, and whatever it is, Caitlin smiles with satisfaction.
“What’s that all about?” Malik asks.
I look up at the cameras before answering. “Who knows? But she better stay away from me.”
“Yeah,” Malik says slowly, looking from Dani to me and then back. “Doesn’t matter, Peyton. We beat her once, and we can do it again.”
“Yeah, we can. Time to get ready to crush her.”
The disembodied voice calls us all to the front where Jessica is waiting to do her introduction one more time.
She smiles into the camera and says, “Welcome back to what is already shaping up to be a surprising finale to Top Teen Chef. We have three finalists who are ready to do everything they can to win the title and the culinary scholarship that goes with it. But,” she says, holding up one finger and shaking it slightly toward the camera, “before they do that, there’s one more twist we want to throw at them.”
I steal a glance at Dani, who is looking straight ahead.
“Your advantage is just outside the doors.”
We all turn our heads toward the swinging doors, waiting for the too-long pause to end. When it does, the doors swing open and in walk all the eliminated contestants.
Even though I know it’s coming, my eyes widen, and I clasp my hands over my mouth in surprise and excitement as Adam, Inaaya, Lola, and Hakulani enter. Paulie is the last to enter the set, and I can’t stop the stupid happy grin from taking over my face.
We turn back as Jessica resumes talking. “Each of you will have the chance to select a sous chef to assist you in this last, crucial challenge.”
I swear I am going to pass out if they make us do an extended pause.
Jessica pulls out the bag she used during our pairs elimination and I notice Dani flinch with recognition. “Inside this bag are three tiles with numbers on them. Reach into the bag to find out the order in which you will choose your sous chef. She approaches Dani, offering the bag to her.
Dani reaches in, feeling around for a moment before pulling out the number “1.”
“Lucky draw,” Jessica says, moving to me.
I reach in and pull out the second choice tile, leaving Malik with the third choice.
Jessica hands off the bag to a PA and returns to her spot. “Dani, you drew the number one choice, so who are you going to select as your sous chef?”
I’m not ready to say that I’ve forgiven Dani. I mean, she came clean with everything tha
t happened before, but words still have consequences. However, I know how cunning and ruthless Caitlin can be, so I don’t want Dani to take on Caitlin and feel like no one has her back.
She looks up, her jaw tense. “I would like Lola as my sous chef.”
I let out a long breath and steal a glance at Caitlin to see her reaction. All she does is shake her head ever so slightly when Dani looks at her, but Dani doesn’t hide her response. She shrugs her shoulder and gives Lola a big hug as she joins Dani, and then they walk to their station.
When Jessica asks who I pick as my sous chef, I don’t worry about the pause. I immediately answer, “Paulie!” which gets a laugh from the rest of the cast, so I guess the secret is out.
Paulie smiles wide as he makes his way over to me, and we turn to face the cameras again as Malik selects Adam as his second in command.
“For those remaining cast members who won’t be cooking today, we have seats for you on the set so you can see everything,” Jessica says, raising her arm to indicate that everyone else should have a seat.
“Today,” Jessica says, after everyone is settled, “the rules are simple: Make us something divine. Take everything you have learned and put it on a plate. You have three hours to complete this task, and then you’ll have to face the judges.” Jessica gives us all one final look, and then says, “And your time begins now.”
And with that, the final elimination challenge begins.
“So,” Paulie says, “what are we going to make?”
“When I think back about this experience, winning will be the highlight of it, of course,” I say with a straight face.
“Obviously,” Paulie assures me.
“But the thing that I will take with me beyond that opportunity is you guys—my friends.”
“Friends that you ultimately have to crush for your own success, but…” Paulie teases.
I place both hands over my heart. “You get me. That is so precious.”
“So what about your friends?” he prods.
“You guys helped me grow. It seems like we’ve been together for so much longer than just a few weeks, so I want to throw a party,” I tell him. “A rooftop dinner party for eight.”
Where There's a Whisk Page 26