Chapter 2
Patty, who has an affinity for polka-dot dresses, sashays down the hall as soon as I step out of Mr. Bruce’s office.
I stifle a groan; I don’t have enough energy to climb an ice hill, prepare for my live segment, and combat Patty’s petty prattle about how she’s going to get the job instead of me.
“Congrats on being my future runner-up for Get Cookin’,” she says, then laughs so hard she snorts. Today’s dress is green with white dots, perfectly matching her manicure. “You might have won last time, but I’ll get you…”
I wait for her to call me her little pretty because it seems appropriate here. We simply need a pointy hat and a broomstick to complete the scene.
“I guess we’ll see,” I say, spotting Nellie hurrying toward us.
“Hey, Patty, when’s your next live segment?” she asks, then does a face-palm. “Oh, never mind, you’re still after Saturday morning cartoons, right?”
“Hardy har, har,” Patty says. “Very funny. But soon, I’ll be taking a prime spot with Channel Foodie, baby.”
Nellie brings a loose fist to her mouth and coughs her reply. “Doubt it.”
“What cookie are you featuring?” I ask. If I know Patty, she has something sneaky up her sleeve.
Patty wags a finger. “Wouldn’t you like to know? I have a little motto: Go extra or go home.”
“It’s go big or go home,” Nellie corrects.
Patty pops out one hip. “Well, I’m extra. I’m going big, and she’s going home.” She points a polka-dot nail at me, nearly touching the tip of my nose.
I go cross-eyed to stare at it, then take a step back.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Nellie snaps.
I loop a hand around Nellie’s arm and pull her with me as I walk. “We’ve got to go. Good luck, Patty.”
Nellie pipes up over her shoulder, “See you after Looney Toons.”
Once we’re to the kitchen, I grab Nellie’s other arm and spin her so we’re face to face. “It’s down to me and her. We’re auditioning for the network’s test audience.”
“With which segment?” Nellie asks.
“The holiday cookie. Patty’s is tomorrow, and mine’s on Tuesday.”
Nellie grins. “She’s going first.”
“Right. I have a few recipes in mind. Want to help me test them out? I’ll hurry home after my segment and get started.”
“Sure, but I’ll have to be quick since I’ve got that date.” It seems like she means to say more, but she stops short and grabs hold of my arm.
“What?” I whisper-shout, my heart thumping that distant, doomsday beat.
Nellie shakes her head. “Nothing, you’re going to do great.” Her cheeks flush pink, which only happens when she’s lying, and Nellie—the queen of candid—almost never lies.
“Spit it out,” I urge.
Nellie glances about the set before pinning her blue eyes on mine. “You suck under pressure.”
I choke out a laugh and yank my arm back. “Thanks a lot.”
“Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“I do know,” I assure her. “I was just talking to Mr. Bruce about it. He’s coming to test out the recipes, too.”
Nellie’s face hardens. “Good. We’re going to make darn…tootin’…sure you get this job over her.”
“Thank you,” I say, pulling her into a hug. “You’re the best. You know that?”
“Of course, I know,” she says. “Now hurry and get ready. I can’t wait for those quesadillas.”
At the counter, I fetch another bunch of cilantro to chop during the segment. “I think this no-swearing thing is turning you sort of country,” I mention.
“How do you mean?”
I shoot Nellie a look. “Darn tootin’?”
“It’s a thing.” Her face turns thoughtful. “I wonder if Jude knows you’re auditioning.”
My eyes bulge because I can’t believe she brought him up so casually. “Nellie…”
“I know you don’t like talking about him, but let’s face it—he’s a great connection. He could put in a good word. Plus, you’ll practically be working together if you get this job.”
I crack out a humorless laugh. “We will not. I’ll be shooting the segment down the hall; Jude never steps foot in this building.”
It’s not rare for production companies to share studio space, but unlike What’s Cookin’, Jude’s show is shot from his own penthouse in a second kitchen—identical to the main—built strictly for recording.
It’s gorgeous, of course—all marble and copper and warmth.
I know just how it smells after he’s baked my favorite dessert—pavlova with freshly whipped cream and bright sliced kiwi.
I can hear the instrumental theme song now, regal brass, since he is, after all, the Culinary King.
The opening scene features a balcony view of Virginia Beach’s shimmering horizon before panning to the warmly lit kitchen where Jude glares at his fast-working fingers on the chopping board.
He glances up, his chiseled face softening the slightest bit, and flashes a wink that makes hearts go weak and gooey with desire.
I haven’t watched Jude’s show since the breakup, though it’s impossible to avoid it altogether. Jude Sting is Virginia Beach’s local celeb, which means it’s not uncommon to walk into a small café and find his show playing.
When Nellie drops the topic, I assume she knows it’s best if I don’t reach out.
Inwardly, I wish she could’ve talked me into it.