Taste Test (18 page)

And at that, he stomps out into the arena. I turn back to watch Tommy Tornado straighten his tie before walking back under the bright stage lighting. Seems that the golden boy isn’t so perfect in the eyes of his famous father after all.

Christian disappears through a set of side doors and I feel a surge of satisfaction. If anything is going to throw him off his game, it’ll be this. Obviously his dad is the last person he wanted to see. I force myself to ignore the twinge of sympathy in the back of my mind as I follow after him into wardrobe.

At first, I’m pretty sure he’s bolted. A minute later, though, I hear the sound of a shoe scuffing itself repeatedly on the concrete floor, as if it were being swung back and forth like a pendulum. Silently, I walk around a heavily laden rack of clothes. Christian’s sitting in a barber’s chair on the other side, staring into the mirror, but not at himself. I lean against a nearby stool.

“So, your dad’s here, huh?”

He looks up at me briefly, then back down again. “It would appear so, yeah.”

I put my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels.

“I guess you weren’t expecting that?”

Christian sighs and rubs his brow with one hand. “Look, Nora, are you planning on just standing here and asking me stupid questions all night? Because I have to say, if that’s the case, I’d really rather you go.”

“What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

“Seriously, can you back the hell off?” His voice is almost a growl. “Do you just want me to feel worse than I already do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“Can you really blame me, Christian? You’ve been nothing but nasty to me for—well, pretty much since we met.”

“Let’s not stop that now, then. Don’t let the door hit you in the rear on the way out.”

I roll my eyes. “Look, don’t let your dad’s attitude ruin your whole night.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Fine.” I lean against a nearby pole. “But you’re being a big baby.”

He’s out of his chair so quick that it startles me into stepping back. I watch his face, which is now twisted up with something more than anger, something more like pain.

“A
baby
? Tell me—if your father showed up here after
forbidding
you to come at all, after telling you it was a waste of time, how the hell would you feel?”

“I—”

“And when he gets here,” he continues, ignoring me, “he proceeds to tell you all of the things you’re doing wrong, just like he does at home. Just like he does at work. Just like he’s always done.”

For one uncomfortable second, I think he might actually cry.

“Look.” I reach to touch his shoulder, and then think better of it. I shove my hands in my pockets instead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t realize it was such a big deal.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Seriously,” I try again. “Why don’t you come back out
and enjoy some brie pillows or whatever the hell they’ve got out there?”

He shakes his head.

“I can’t think of anything more I’d rather
not
do right now.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice. Besides, don’t they have some announcement they’re making? If they’re eliminating you for your gigantic ego,” I elbow his side, “you should probably be there to take it like a man.”

Despite his best effort not to, I watch him start to smile.

“Come on.” I grab his hand and drag him toward the door.

“Let’s bust out of here instead,” he suggests. “We can go down to the basement kitchen. I’ll cook you something fantastic.”

“We can’t, I told you. We have that announcement thingy.”

“Who cares?”

“I do. And you should too. I’m not going to let you sacrifice your spot on the show because of your egomaniacal father.”

He cocks his head. “You know, Henderson, you’re actually a decent person when you want to be.”

I grimace. “Don’t get used to it. It’s only because you’re acting so pathetic. I’m taking
pity
on you.”

“Then I should probably enjoy it while it lasts, huh?”

He’s so close, I can see the flecks of gray in his blue eyes. As he’s standing there, looking down at me, I’m reminded of how on the day I left Weston, Billy had the exact same expression on his face.

How I thought that he might kiss me before I was gone for good. How I actually wished he would.

“Come on, let’s go,” I say hastily, turning away from him.
My cheeks are blazing and I force myself not to look back as we walk back into the arena. Somewhere, deep inside my head, I hear Tressa’s voice from before.

You can’t fake chemistry.

Don’t worry, there’s still time.

Guest Chef One-On-One

Tommy Van Lorton

Producer (P):
     Welcome, Mr. Van Lorton. It’s quite a privilege to have you here with us tonight.

Tommy Van Lorton (TVL):
     That’s
Chef
Van Lorton.

P:
     Of course. Well, Chef, you must be exceptionally proud of your son, Christian. He’s won almost every challenge so far.

TVL:
     Sure, he’s doing all right.

P:
     Better than all right. He’s blowing away the competition. With the exception of one or two others, that is.

TVL:
     [crossing legs] That’s what I told him tonight. He needs to stop dicking around, if you’ll excuse the term, and pull out the real tools from his arsenal. All this cassoulet nonsense. Who even eats that? Why make something no one even recognizes?

P:
     [blinking] It showed his talent. Everyone was very impressed.

TVL:
     [rolls eyes] That doesn’t mean they want to
eat
it. I tell Christian this all the time—he needs to be more aware of his audience. His fans. People want food you can make at home, not froufrou French crap.

P:
     He did appeal to the home viewers with the Southern fried steak recipe from a few weeks ago.

TVL:
     [scoffs] Yeah, and he didn’t win that one, did he?

P:
     Well, no …

TVL:
     [standing up] Exactly! [bangs fist on table] You can’t settle, buddy. You can always do better.

Chapter Eleven

Don’t Hate the Player, Hate the Game

When we reenter the arena, Christian’s face is a frozen mask; it doesn’t betray a single emotion. Once we’re immersed in the crowd again, though, he starts smiling and chatting with a few people. I stop by a table and pick up a flute of champagne. I consider gulping it down but take a small sip instead.

The last thing I thought I’d be doing tonight is making Christian feel better. I’m surprised at how good it made me feel, too.

“Meet me in the basement in thirty minutes.”

I almost jump, feeling his breath on my neck. The tendrils of hair straying from my ponytail tickle my skin and a chill runs through me. I turn to look at him, unsure of what to say, but he’s chatting to one of the women from
Suddenly Suppers
. Something he said must be hilarious because she’s laughing hysterically. He looks at me and winks. I feel my heart plummet into my stomach, and an inexplicable, delicious nervousness spreads throughout my body.

I look around for Tressa, hoping to pump her for details. How did things start with Bret and her? Had she hated him at first? Did he have a huge ego? Did she find herself wanting to hit him one second and thinking about kissing him the next?

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?”

Ms. Svincek is cupping her hands around her mouth like a megaphone.

“If you would be so kind, we’re going to have a photograph taken to commemorate the occasion.”

Positioning forty people for a group shot turns out to be the equivalent of brain surgery. The judges want to be up front. All the girls should be clustered together. No, the boys and girls should alternate. By the time the picture is actually taken, most of us want to strangle each other.

As people start to disperse, Christian’s dad staggers over to him, clearly drunk.

“C’mon, son. How about a photo with your old man?”

Tommy leans over and taps the photographer on the shoulder.

“Hey, buddy—mind taking one of my son and me?” I see him slip the guy a hundred-dollar bill. Christian rolls his eyes.

“Dad, this is really unnecessary.”

“Nonsense.” Tommy stands with his chest puffed out, waiting for the flash. Defeated, Christian stands next to him and gives a halfhearted smile.

“Perfect,” his dad slurs, throwing an arm around his son’s shoulders. “The master and his protégé.”

Jeez. No wonder Christian wanted to come here—at least then he wouldn’t be stuck hearing stuff like
that
all the time.

“All right, Dad, that’s enough.” He untangles himself and starts to walk away. Tommy grabs his arm, hard.

“Listen, you ungrateful—”

“All right, contestants!”

It’s the first time I’ve ever been happy to hear Prescott’s voice. Tommy Van Lorton looks like he might collapse in a heap; Christian manages to loosen his grip and, instead, steadies his father as he teeters back and forth.

“As promised, we have a little announcement to make. A little twist, if you will.”

Unable to help it, some of us groan. The last “twist” forced five of us out of the competition for good on the very first episode.

Seeing our displeasure, Prescott holds both hands in the air. “This twist does not involve eliminations. Well, not directly.”

How comforting. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“For your next challenge,
Taste Test
is no longer an individual competition. It’s a competition for pairs. Tonight, you will be assigned a partner. A partner who you will be working with in classes, in labs, and in the arena to prepare the best possible dishes that reflect each of your strengths. The pairings are strategic and final.”

Chef Mason herds us into a cluster close to Ms. Svincek, who’s perusing a clipboard with a pencil in her mouth.

“Okay,” she says slowly, looking at us over the rims of her glasses. “Once you’ve been assigned, please meet with your partner briefly to arrange some times to work together
throughout the next week. In the restaurant of life, you know, we are only as good as the chefs around us.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. Nice philosophy. Are we going to start hugging now?

Svincek goes down the list, calling out names. As the pairs are announced, people start breaking away from the group. Some of them are chatting animatedly, heads together, eyes bright. Others aren’t so enthusiastic. A few have their arms crossed, looking anywhere but at each other.

I think of the last time we were paired up, and I shoot Christian a surreptitious look.

“Nora Henderson and Giada Orsoni.”

I blink. Really? I look over at Gigi and she’s grinning, so I can’t have just made it up in my head. I start walking over to her.

“And, last but not least … Joy Kennedy-Swanson and Christian Van Lorton.”

I freeze as Joy practically sprints toward Christian and throws herself into his arms. He looks a little surprised, but not as much as Prescott, who looks more than just taken aback. He looks a little pissed.

“All right, everyone. Get to know each other. Strategize. Come ready to fight for your spot. And remember—one pair will win and one pair will lose.”

Translation—two of us will be out on our butts in a week.

“I can’t believe they paired us up.” Gigi is squeezing my arm. “I mean, they know we’re friends and everything. You’d think that they would have kept us as far from each other as possible.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy,” I agree. I watch Joy cling on to Christian like a drowning rat with a donut.

“Are you even listening to me?” She follows my gaze. “Yeah, I bet she’s happy about riding his coattails into a win.”

I stare at Gigi. “You are a genius. Of course—that explains it!”

“Explains what?”

“A win—he paired Joy with Christian so she’ll win.” I turn to glare at Prescott. Gigi is looking at Joy now, her head cocked to one side.

“You know what? I thought you were paranoid about the whole Joy/Prescott master plan. But, I gotta say, this one’s a stroke of genius. If they managed to arrange this—I mean, he’ll literally take her to the top.”

“What did you say about her on top?” I swivel back to look at Gigi.

She stares back at me, perplexed.

“Not on top.
To
the top. Nora, what’s gotten into you? It’s like you’re possessed or something …”

As she trails off, I can see it. The bloom of recognition spreading across her face. Her mouth drops open a little, and then she starts to smile. She looks at Christian, then looks back at me.

The smile becomes a grin.

The grin turns into a laugh.

“You like him!” she crows. “You
like
him, like
him
. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before!”

“Shut UP!” I hiss, pulling her away from the rest of the crowd. “Seriously, please, don’t say anything here.”

“When did you—? How did you—?
Why
did you—?”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I don’t even know if I do or if it’s just—I just don’t know.”

“Clearly. You can’t even speak.”

I shake my head. I need to figure out what I’m feeling before I try to explain it to anyone else. Right now, I can’t even explain it to myself. All I know is that there’s something happening between Christian and me. Whatever it is, it’s totally unexpected and very, very real.