CHAPTER ELEVEN
When the hall closed down for ninety minutes for lunch, tables and equipment, supplies and ingredients were locked down by most of the bakers. Only a few allowed their items to be left where they were.
“Maybe we should encourage them to hide everything,” said Sara.
“Don’t worry, babe. We’ve got the cameras placed everywhere and not one person is allowed in here during the lunch break. You worry about the afternoon competition.” She nodded turning to look at Casey.
“How do you feel?” she asked the young woman.
“Honestly, I feel good,” she smiled. “I’m going to do a mix of styles. A farmhouse raspberry oatmeal bar, macarons in five flavors, and a dark-chocolate Mexican chili brownie.”
“Great. Now I’m hungry,” frowned Tailor.
“Don’t worry big guy. I’m saving a whole container just for you and Alec,” she smiled.
The banquet hall was lined with buffet tables for the contestants and their assistants. Adrian walked toward their table and smiled.
“May I join you? I promise no questions about your entries,” he laughed.
“Please. Take a seat, Adrian. How are you doing?” asked Sara. He nodded at her and smiled.
“I’m working to not fall apart,” he said with a pained expression. “Thank you. All of you for keeping the secret of me and Jacques. We just didn’t want others to know and judge us for anything other than our creations.”
“Who you love is no concern of ours,” said Alec. “Love is love, brother.”
Adrian just smiled and nodded at the group. The conversation turned casual and comfortable, talking about everything from children to pets, favorite vacation spots and even Mama Irene.
“She was always so kind to me,” smiled Adrian. “I was very sad to hear of her passing. Matthew’s as well.”
“My grandparents are, were very special people,” Luke corrected himself grinning at the others. “You’ll forgive me, I forget sometimes that they’re not here with us.”
“I understand,” he nodded.
While they relaxed over ice-cream sundaes provided by the catering company, Maren walked toward their table with a frown.
“Well, isn’t this cozy. The enemy of mine enemy and all that bullshit.”
“No one is our enemy, Maren. Adrian is a colleague, just like you are.”
“And yet I’m not the one eating at the head table,” she frowned.
“Don’t be so bitchy,” said Casey. “This isn’t the head table. Say what you want to say. You’re pissed off that Adrian, Celia and Janie took the top prize in the cakes earlier. You were still second, Maren. Second place among more than a hundred. That’s incredibly impressive given the competition.”
“Yes, we should all be grateful for second place,” she sneered. “I’m afraid I don’t allow my employees to be happy with second-best.”
“Maybe that’s why your entire team walks out on you at least three times a year,” said Sara. She glared at the other woman but knew she couldn’t cause a scene here.
“Enjoy your trophies,” she said staring at Celia, Janie and Adrian. “It will all be forgotten by the finale.” She turned and stormed in the other direction, leaving the banquet hall.
“Holy fuck,” muttered Tango. “What a bitch!”
“I told you. She’s an angry, hateful woman and she has absolutely no right to be,” said Sara.
“She has a serious dislike for Milton,” said Adrian. “Every competition he won, was one where she lost. She thinks he cheats and is overrated but then again, she thinks we’re all overrated.”
“There’s no need to dislike Milton. He’s on the selection and judging committees now. I find him to be fair,” said Taylor.
“I agree. She does not,” said Adrian wiping his lips and standing. “Well, it’s time to get back in there. Are we ready ladies?”
“We’re ready,” smiled Dylan.
“Best of luck to you all. You know that I truly mean it,” he smiled.
“Same to you, Adrian. Please let us know if you see anything unusual,” said Luke. He nodded and headed out as others began leaving their meal and heading back to the competition hall.
“People dying over cookies and cakes,” frowned Tailor, shaking his head. “I mean, I’ve been known to wanna kill for the last slice but not literally.”
“Well, unfortunately, someone means it literally,” said Janie. “Let’s go. We’ve got cookies to bake this afternoon.”
Tango, Gator, Rett, RJ, and Elias followed the women back into the competition center while Luke, Wilson, Tailor, and Alec stood watching the room of people filter back in.
“They all look like somebody’s nice mama or granny,” frowned Tailor. “If they shoved a plate of cookies at me, I wouldn’t hesitate to take ‘em.”
“Let’s be honest, you’d do that anyway,” smirked Wilson. Tailor nudged the other big man’s shoulder jokingly and they chuckled. Walking back into the center, they wandered around the tables just looking and then heard the announcer.
“We are about to begin the homestyle and fancy cookie competition,” said Milton standing on a dais in front of the group.
“This is always one of my favorites and I know we’ve got some exceptional bakers in the room.
Remember, at least one cookie may be homestyle or rustic if you like.
And at least one should be a fancy variety.
You have two-hours and thirty minutes to create your cookies, plate them, appearance matters, and the judges will begin their assessment.
“Time begins now! Good luck bakers!” he smiled. He laughed with the others on the dais and set the microphone down. Wilson turned to the other men nodding.
“Let’s play detective.”