by Natasha West
‘Next week,’ Robyn nodded. ‘But just know, I’ll be gunning for you next week, top baker.’
Jodie gave a slow, deliberate smile, delighted to be back on the old footing. This was much more comfortable. They were simply rivals. Rivals that had one glorious night of the angriest, most thrilling sex. Perfectly normal. ‘Bring it.’
They stepped onto their respective carriages and back to their lives.
Twenty-One
Week Five - Pies
Robyn was worried. Scratch that, Robyn was always worried. She was whatever came after worry about this week. Because there was something about pies that she couldn’t seem to master. They never came out right. Cracked crusts, tough crusts, too flaky, not flaky enough. She’d never made the perfect pie.
She’d been at it all week, practising her heart out every night after work. Her fridge was currently filled with aborted attempts that weren’t even good enough to take into work.
As everyone else stood at their islands, Robyn took a quick read of them. Dorothy, Susan, Rueben, and of course, Jodie. She would have loved to look into one of their eyes and see weakness. But she didn’t see it. She was the weak link in the chain, and she knew it.
Oh well. She supposed that making it to week five was alright. But it was hard to fully believe that. To get just past the hump and go out? It was going to suck.
She glanced over at Jodie, calmly sitting on a stool, looking off into the distance. Chill as ever. Robyn thought this would be her last weekend with her. Maybe that was best. Whatever they were to each other, it was singularly the most confusing ‘Relationship’ of her life, and she couldn’t really begin to process what had happened last week.
Part of her didn’t want to, preferring to enjoy the craziness strictly for what it was. Another part of her wondered if there was any possibility it could be replicated. Tonight, maybe.
But Robyn didn’t want to embarrass herself. During hers and Jodie’s one talk about it, Jodie hadn’t said anything that made Robyn think she wanted a repeat performance.
Shame. It had been quite a way to vent. Robyn had been more relaxed afterwards than she could recall. Better than a beta-blocker.
‘Right, bakers! You have three hours to make your pies. Off you bake!’ Madeline called, her famous catchphrase.
And then the lights went off.
‘Sorry, guys, slight delay!’ Talk amongst yourselves for ten minutes,’ the stage manager announced before scuttling off to talk to a crew member about whatever mysterious thing had plunged them into semi-darkness. Emergency lighting flickered dimly on.
Jodie heard Adam say, ‘This season is a fucking joke,’ to himself and then snap his fingers for a runner. ‘I want a triple, venti, soy, no-foam latte in my dressing room if such a thing isn’t beyond this production.’
Oh dear, thought Robyn. They fixed his tooth, but his mood is beyond repair. Judging was going to be a nightmare.
Robyn sat quietly, though she could hear Susan muttering something complainy sounding to Dorothy, who was hushing her and telling her everything would be fine. She wondered if she should go over there and kill some time, maybe try and prise a tip or two out of Dorothy. But then she heard someone mutter, ‘Shit,’ a crack noise following quickly after. She looked over to see Jodie looking down at the floor, at a phone with a stool leg pressed into its shattered screen. Jodie got up and collected the phone from under the chair.
‘What happened there?’ Robyn called over. She’d been trying not to comment, but she couldn’t help herself.
Jodie looked at her, and Robyn was pretty sure she was deciding whether to engage with her. ‘I dropped it, which shouldn’t have been a problem, the case protects it. Unless you can’t see what you’re doing and put the full weight of a stool directly on the screen.’
Robyn walked over and looked at the phone. Even in this dim light, it was clearly shattered into a hundred pieces. ‘Was it expensive?’
‘Wasn’t cheap,’ Jodie sighed.
‘Production company should get you another. They’re at fault.’
Jodie was uncertain. ‘I don’t think that’s…’
‘No, it’s definitely on them. Trust me, I work in insurance.’
‘Really? Because this feels like my fault,’ Jodie said.
‘Would you have done it in a well-lit studio?’ Robyn pressed.
As though to illustrate Robyn’s point, the lights popped back on and illuminated the room. There was a collection of pleased sighs.
Jodie looked around her and back at the phone. She half-smiled. ‘Maybe not.’
Robyn put her hand out. ‘Hand it over. I’ll give it to the producer to deal with.’
Jodie gave her the phone. Robyn went straight to where Cally the runner was and explained the situation. Cally nodded. ‘I’ll get her another. Gimme a few hours.’
Robyn went back to Jodie. ‘Cally’s gone to get you a new phone.’
‘Oh, alright. Cool,’ Jodie smiled, pleased. And then her smile dropped. ‘Wait. Why are you being nice?’
Robyn’s own smile faded. ‘I’m err… I don’t…’ she began unsurely. She shook her head. ‘I didn’t mean to be.’
‘Good. Because if we’re nice to each other here, well… then we can’t be quite so nasty to each other in other places, can we?’
‘I see,’ Robyn said, quite pleased with how calmly her face took the news that she was going to be seeing Jodie naked again tonight.
‘Yeah. So why don’t you fuck off back to your own island and leave me alone?’ Jodie asked coldly.
‘I’ll be sure to do that,’ Robyn said and quickly turned. She had to be fast, because her mouth, without permission, tried to push itself into a grin. She didn’t want Jodie to see it. That would ruin everything.
***
The game pie was fine. But that was really the best that could be said of it. It looked like a pie. Not a golden-crusted, mouth-watering pie. More like something a harried parent might grab from a supermarket freezer and serve with some pre-done mash, a few peas, and some gravy and call it Sunday dinner.
Adam approached with Imogen and Robyn braced herself. This wasn’t going to be good. Everyone was taking a beating today. Even Dorothy’s pie had been called bland. She’d been stunned. ‘Bland?’ she’d repeated.
‘I actually think it’s quite delicious,’ Imogen had said.
Adam raised an eyebrow. ‘Perhaps it’s a question of taste, then, because I don’t think this pie has any.’
For a split second, Robyn had worried that Dorothy was going to do a Sanjay and keel right over. But after a moment, she collected herself and found her usual smile. ‘Thank you for your thoughts,’ she said from between gritted teeth.
Everyone else had gotten commentary that was around the same or worse. And now it was Robyn’s turn. Adam came over and cut a slice for himself. Imogen did the same. He forked a bit into his mouth, and then he looked at Robyn in a way that made her blood run cold. ‘Really?’ he asked. ‘This is your best effort?’
Imogen tutted. ‘I think maybe it’s not her finest hour, but-’
‘It’s poor,’ Adam said unflinchingly.
Robyn had been preparing for this. All week. But face to face with Adam, personally offended by her pie, the thing she dreaded, it happened. A pressure built at her temples, a burning sensation in her eyes. She blinked several times. But it was no good, it was coming. A tear.
Oh god. She was going to cry. Not Sanjay weeping, that wasn’t Robyn’s style. But the thought of even a single tear in front of Adam, Imogen, the other contestants, the studio and oh yes, at some future point, the nation, was dreadful.
Just as her single tear popped up through the duct, but before it could roll down her cheek, something insane happened. Jodie cleared her throat, walked over to Robyn’s island, looked right into the camera and said quietly but with purpose, ‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’
Robyn didn’t understand what was happening for a split second. She thought perhaps that
Jodie had been standing too long next to a hot oven and given herself heat stroke, and now her oven-baked brain was malfunctioning.
But then it hit her. Jodie wasn’t doing anything crazy. She was doing something kind. This moment, the tear, would be unusable footage. The golden rule was being broken.
Twenty-Two
‘Cunt. Shit. Arsehole. Bastard,’ Jodie said firmly as Robyn wiped the tear away from her eyes.
‘What the hell?’ Adam muttered in complete bewilderment as the tirade of filth spewed from Jodie’s lips.
Madeline took a step toward Jodie. ‘Err, Jodie…’ she asked, panicked. ‘Is everything-’
‘Twat. Fucker. Shit. Dick,’ Jodie went and chanced a quick look at Robyn. She looked like she’d gathered herself. Jodie cleared her throat to indicate she was done. ‘Oops, sorry.’
Madeline was looking at her in bewilderment. ‘Sorry?’
‘Yeah. Tourette’s. Didn’t I mention?’
Madeline didn’t buy it for a second. ‘No. You didn’t.’
‘Extremely rare for me to have a spell. Guess the stress must have gotten to me. I just need a glass of water, I’ll be fine.’ She went back to her station, poured herself a glass of water from the tap, took a big swig of it, made a refreshed ‘Ahh,’ and sat down next to her pie as though the last minute hadn’t happened.
The entire studio was staring at her. But she paid it no mind. ‘Guys, you tasting this pie or not?’ she called over.
Adam, Madeline, and Imogen all exchanged looks. No one knew what to do. The studio manager shouted in a confused tone, ‘We still shooting, or do I cut here?’
Madeline gave Jodie a hard look and Jodie planted a smile on her face, just like she’d been told to do. ‘Keep rolling,’ Madeline said. ‘We’re going to pretend that didn’t happen.’
Adam, still flummoxed, wandered over to taste the pie. Jodie liked how broken his stride was.
Jodie glanced at Robyn, looking back at her in wonderment. As well she might. What had Jodie been saying this morning? Let’s not be nice to each other. Because it would interfere with the sex that Jodie very much wished to have tonight.
But then she’d seen that bastard Adam going at Robyn in that unnecessary way and how hard Robyn was fighting that tear. Something had compelled her to step in.
‘OK, so what do we have here,’ Imogen asked. Adam looked to still be collecting himself. He was eyeing Jodie like she might start swearing again.
‘It’s a caramel apple pie,’ she said and then remembered to elaborate. ‘It’s an old family recipe.’
‘Passed down from?’
‘My father.’
‘I understand he’s not with us any longer,’ Imogen asked.
OK, so they were getting into this. Not a big surprise, really. Jodie had put it on the application form, knowing full well bloodsucking reality TV shows loved a sob story. But that didn’t mean Jodie was going to pour her heart out to the camera.
‘That’s right,’ Jodie said simply.
‘But he taught you to bake, correct?’ Imogen asked.
‘Yes.’
Imogen clearly thought there was more to say because she waited. Jodie knew that trick. You were supposed to start blabbing to fill the silence. But Jodie wasn’t one to play conversational chicken with. She simply looked at Imogen. If she wanted to ask a question, she could ask it, and perhaps Jodie would answer. Perhaps.
But Imogen backed down. She cut herself a piece of pie instead. She tasted it. ‘Quite delicious.’
Adam had ahold of himself now, and he ate a piece too and said quickly, ‘Nice pie crust, but the ratio of caramel to apple isn’t quite right.’
‘No?’ Jodie asked neutrally.
Imogen had a second taste. ‘I think it’s a good balance, actually.’
‘Mmm, well…’
Jodie listened and nodded as Adam blathered some criticism that felt like it was for the sake of being a bitch. She tuned out a bit. Eventually, it was over, and the judges went off to deliberate while everyone sat quietly.
When they came back out, the news was interesting. Jodie was in first place. Robyn, in last.
Jodie glanced at Robyn to see how she was taking it. She gave Jodie a, ‘Congrats,’ and that was it.
Pleased as Jodie was about securing first place, she wasn’t sure how fair that really was. But once shooting was over, she could do the rounds of the pies, see for herself.
***
Back at the hotel, Jodie mused on her tasting session. She’d been right. Robyn’s pie wasn’t that bad. It was nice, actually. Better than Dorothy’s in flavour. The crust was a slight weak spot.
Jodie was still thinking about that as she went into the dining room and sat down with the other contestants. Chatter ground to a halt as she planted her bum in the seat. Thankfully, it was a flying visit.
Robyn looked pleased to see Jodie for the faintest second before quickly wiping the smile off her mug.
‘Well, good evening,’ Dorothy, self-appointed head of the group, said.
‘Oh. Hello.’ Jodie replied, picking up a menu.
‘We don’t usually see you for dinner.’
‘No, I guess not. I usually order in my room. But I don’t know, I think they’re cleaning the third floor late.’
‘Third floor?’ Dorothy repeated. Robyn coughed.
‘Yup. I’m right next to the cleaning cupboard.’ Jodie saw a waiter passing. ‘Can I get the burger?’
The waiter wrote it down.
The chatter at the table, interrupted by Jodie’s surprise visit, very gradually got itself started up again. ‘You know this is all Sanjay’s fault, anyway,’ Susan said snarkily.
‘How so?’ Robyn asked.
‘Because he broke Adam’s tooth and he’s not here for Adam to take it out on. But we are.’
‘Mmm,’ Robyn said. She pushed her dinner away, half-eaten.
‘You not hungry?’ Dorothy asked.
‘No,’ Robyn said and threw an almost imperceptible glance to the other end of the table. ‘Not for this.’
‘Oh, is it not very good?’ Dorothy asked, obliviously. ‘You should send it back.’
‘Might just leave it,’ Robyn told her.
Jodie saw the waiter passing again. ‘Hey, cancel that burger, could you? I’ve lost my appetite.’
He shrugged. ‘Sure.’
‘Right. Night,’ Jodie said. Everyone looked slightly surprised, but no one protested. Jodie stood, walked out, got in the lift, went to her room, and waited for a knock at the door.
Twenty-Three
‘She’s so bloody rude!’ Susan said.
‘I know,’ Dorothy agreed. ‘Why even come down if you’re going to leave two minutes later.’
‘Yes, terrible,’ Robyn nodded. ‘Gosh. I’m tired.’ She stretched out her arms in a panto yawn. ‘Bedtime, I think.’ She stood.
‘What? But you’ve barely eaten!’ Dorothy cried.
‘I know. But I need to do some research tonight. I can’t take another bashing from Adam tomorrow.’
‘Funny that Vinegar Tits had that spell right in the middle of it,’ Reuben remarked, perplexed.
‘Mmm. Well, night all!’ Robyn raced out of the dining hall before anyone could delay her further. She had better places to be tonight.
***
She strode up to Jodie’s door, one above her own. When she got there, she realised she was slightly out of breath. She’d been power walking up the stairs because the lift had been taking too long. This wouldn’t do. She couldn’t have Jodie thinking she was running to her room, all desperate. She took a moment in front of the door to gather herself before she knocked. Two seconds into that gathering, Jodie opened her door. ‘I could hear you breathing through the door.’
Robyn frowned. ‘You’d have to have your ear pressed to the door to hear me breathing.’
Jodie rolled her eyes. ‘If you think I’ve been stood with my ear pressed to the door, waiting for you, you’ve got another thing-’
<
br /> The elevator door pinged. Jodie and Robyn swapped a look, and Jodie grabbed Robyn by the arm, pulling her in.
‘Watch it. This is cashmere,’ Robyn complained, as Jodie slammed the door behind her.
‘Oh, like you want any of that lot knowing you were stood at my door.’
