Chapter 14
This is not how I saw things going.
I was supposed to shoot this segment with one of my favorite people. Instead, I’m getting stuck with none other than my polka-dot foe.
Patty holds Jinxy in her arms while a Cheshire grin spreads over her face. The pair waits for my cue beside Dan, the cameraman, as he counts down.
I tried very hard to avoid this. I didn’t want to reward Patty for her little stunt, but when I told Marsha Langston about the change, she said it was too risky to have “just anyone” step in front of the live lens. The safest bet was to have Patty take his place.
As the countdown nears its end, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I feel panic clawing its way in. What will Patty do next to sabotage me? Heck, she almost killed Mr. Bruce; who knows what else she’s capable of?
Dan holds up three fingers.
Now two.
One. He points at me and ducks behind the lens.
“Good morning, Virginia Beach, and thanks for tuning in to Spice It Up with Ginger. Today, we’ve got a delectable cookie that’s bright, festive, and best of all, easy to make on even your busiest day.”
I pause there, feeling scattered as I recall the line I came up with to introduce Mr. Bruce and Jinxy. It was perfect, but I can’t use it now. And how am I going to welcome pernicious Patty with a pleased face? She’s numero uno on my Can’t Stand ‘Em List.
An arm waves high over the camera. Nellie rushes to the forefront, doing some frantic motion with her hands, eyes wide and worried.
A sign darts up from the arm behind the lens: Should we cut to commercial? It reads.
Oh, no. This can only mean one thing. I’m doing it. I’m panicking.
“I…um…yeah, so it’s getting close to Christmas, isn’t it, friends? Which is why I came up with an easy cookie recipe…”
Nellie hisses the word pistachio at me.
“Which also features an ingredient that’s raised quite a craze for the holidays.” I chuckle, scratch my neck, and notice the temperature is rising. No, that’s just the panic setting in.
I lift a finger to cue the commercial cut but freeze when I hear a glorious voice call out my name. Well, not my name, exactly, but something close to it.
“G’day, Lady G.”
At first, I think I’m hallucinating because Jude’s halfway to another country by now.
But then I spot him weaving through the crew, tall, certain, that glorious half grin at his lips.
He walks up to Patty, pries Jinxy from her grip, and pats Patty’s wilted shoulder. “Off with you, Dove,” he murmurs.
The moment my champion’s eyes meet mine, all is right with the world once more. Mr. Numero Uno on my Love ‘Em Dearly List showed up for me. Again. Does this mean he missed his flight?
“You almost forgot to introduce your special guests,” Jude says as he walks around the counter to join me.
“Right,” I say, noting the delighted oohs and awes of the set crew. My confidence kicks back in because, yeah, Jude’s here for me, folks.
“You guys might know him as Channel Foodie’s Culinary King,” I say, “but I simply call him Jude.” My heart nearly bursts because he’s giving me that look. The one that makes me feel safe, cared for, and even adored.
“And let’s not forget this handsome little feline, Jinxy. Doesn’t he look festive?” I lean in to rub his little head, and Jinxy gives my chin a long, luscious lick. “I love you, too,” I say.
I take the cat so Jude can wash up, and we ease into a playful banter as Jude follows my instruction to make the cookie dough.
“That really was easy,” Jude says while sliding the baking sheet into the oven. “When does this pistachio cream come into play?”
“I’m glad you asked,” I tell him. “I’ll hand our little helper over to you and get washed up.”
“I just noticed something,” Jude says as Jinxy lifts his chin proudly. “These booties and matching bowtie are pistachio green.”
“You’re right,” I say. “His grandma made those for him.”
“Eh? Let’s give Granny a wave back at home, shall we?” Jude waves Jinxy’s paw up and down, but suddenly, the smile falls off Jude’s face. He pins his lips over his teeth and turns his nose as far from the cat as he can manage.
Oh yeah, Jinxy has a little problem this morning.
I fight back a grin. “Come over on this side of me,” I say, hoping to give him some fresh air. “That way, Jinxy can get a good view.” I walk through the process of making the buttercream frosting, keeping the mixer on low so as not to drown out my voice.
When it’s time to add the pistachio cream, I note that it can be made from home if viewers can’t get their hands on it. Once the frosting is all but finished, I grab the food coloring and hover it over the bowl.
“I think we’ll come back around now,” Jude says, voice tense as he hurries back to the opposite side. And that’s when I’m hit with the odor I caught in Mr. Bruce’s office.
Oh, no. Jude is gasping for air. The color is draining from his face. Jinxy happily licks Jude’s jaw.
Hang in there, I muse, but suddenly Jude’s eyes grow wide, and he gives into a gag loud enough to startle me.
I stiffen. “Are you all right?” The question comes out in a humorous tone; I know how affected he is by smells, and this one is toxic.
Jude shakes his head. “It’s just uh…I think Jinxy has the stinks-skies.” He chuckles, but it’s cut short with another gag. This one’s louder and more violent, too, causing his shoulders to flinch forward.
I cringe guiltily. “I forgot to warn you about that.” I can’t help but laugh as I drip a few drops of dye into the frosting. The crew is chuckling now, too, which tells me that viewers at home are doing the same.
“Jinxy’s adjusting to a new diet,” I explain. “I’ll switch you out, and you can finish the frosting.”
As he surrenders the small animal, Jude fights back another gag and rushes over to the sink. “I’m okay,” he declares, pumping excess amounts of soap onto his hand.
More laughter spills over the set.
I rub Jinxy behind the ears and explain to the audience. “You might not know this, but the Culinary King has an overactive gag reflex.” I glance over my shoulder. “How you doin’, mate?”
Jude is sniffing the suds like his life depends on it. “Mm hmm,” he manages.
I catch eyes with Patty, who hasn’t moved from her spot. She’s wringing her hands and twitching her face, and I’m pretty sure she’s chanting a spell under her breath.
Not today, Satin.
Sure, things aren’t going perfectly with the whole gassy cat thing, but that’s life.
And I’m nowhere near panic mode. If this is all that goes wrong, I muse as Jude dries his hands and joins me at the mixing bowl.
I’d say we got off pretty good. We’ve given the viewers a special guest, a good laugh, and a dang good cookie.
“We’re switching to the hand mixer now,” I tell him with a nod toward the appliance.
Jude claps his hands and rubs them together dramatically. He lifts the hand mixer in the air like a gun, straightens his arm before him, and gives the trigger a short tap.
The mixer gives out a jolting buzz, and Jinxy flinches in my arms. My nerves spike.
Jude gives the camera a smoldering glare. “Grab your mixers, boys and girls. It’s a mix-off in three, two, one.”
He shoves it into the bowl and pulls the lever. The second the whirling beaters scrape the glass with a shriek, Jinxy lets fly a terrifying squeal of his own. His body tenses, and though I try to secure my grasp, he shoots like a rocket toward the rafters.
The nimble cat lands upright on the metal track, then hisses at the mixer.
He slinks backward a step, causing a single bootie to fall from his foot and plunk right into the bowl.
My first instinct is to grab it before it’s sucked into the spinning madness.
Jude’s instinct is different. Hand-mixing 101 says to never lift the beaters while they’re beating, but the footie in the frosting must freak Jude out enough that he forgets because he lifts them right out of the bowl while they whirl.
Frosting flies in every direction, thick wads of it thudding my arms, neck, and face.
Jude fumbles with the thing before managing to shut it off.
Stunned silence fills the space. Jude and I stare at each other. And then break into laughter.
“Whoa,” I say. “Who knew that frosting and felines were such foes?” I give myself a glance over. “I’m not sure who got the worst of it. My cohost, or me.”
I look up to see green goo splattered past Jude’s apron and onto his white button-up shirt. It’s in his hair, his ear, and slightly up his nose, too, but he’s too attractive to lose any points over it.
“I’d rightly guess it’s me,” Jude says, eyeing himself up and down.
But then my eyes are drawn to the whopper of all whoppers—a large, rather shapely figure plastered to his forehead.
“Hey,” I say, motioning for the camera to follow my lead. “Do you guys see what I see?”
“Oh no,” Jude says wearily. “What is it? My wig’s falling off, isn’t it?”
“You don’t wear a wig.” I close the gap between us, lock my gaze on his, and relish the amused spark that flashes through his eyes. He follows the movement of my hand as I reach up and secure a corner of the mass stuck to his skin.
Slowly, theatrically, I peel the saturated bootie off his forehead. A laugh sneaks up my throat as I dangle it before him.
Jude gasps. “I’ve been kicked in the head with a buttercream bootie!”
Jinxy meows, and I look up in time to see him spring toward me. I catch him in my arms and pull him to my chest. “Nice jump, Jinx,” I praise.
Jinxy blinks, meows, then starts licking frosting off my face.
“Maybe I was wrong about the feline-frosting clash,” I say, turning to give the camera a better angle.
“And there we have it,” Jude says. “Pistachio craze for the holidays. How does it taste, Jinxy boy?”
I laugh, moving my face as Jinxy’s tongue moves to my cheek. “I think he likes it. Keep in mind, friends,” I say, motioning to the finished product displayed on the counter. “Green makes the scene for a number of holidays. You can make these for Easter parties, St Patrick’s Day events…”
“Oh, and Halloween,” Jude says. “Top those babies with some purple and orange sprinkles.”
“Good thinking,” I agree. The red light above the camera is flashing, which means it’s time to wrap up. I grin, feeling accomplished; whether this was a winning audition or a total flop, I wouldn’t change a thing.
“Jude, thank you for joining us today,” I say. “I hope you guys enjoy this recipe. Be sure to let me know if you try it at home.” I move closer to Jude and lift Jinxy so he’s poised between us. “Let’s close it out together, shall we?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Jude says warmly.
“Enjoy your day, friends,” we say, “and thanks for tuning in to see how the ginger snaps.”