Sweet Reality

by Laura Heffernan

  “You’re not going to get fired,” I said quietly. “Your bosses love you. If you don’t pass, they’ll give you another chance. Besides, you’re a genius, remember? You got a twenty-three hundred on your SATs. The Florida State Bar Exam is nothing to you.”

  He smiled against my ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the day with this stuff. Want to take off?”

  “Abandon the contest?”

  “Well, Ed’s over there baking away, and Dominic’s never around, so the cabin should be empty.” His voice trailed off, and he wiggled his eyebrows at me suggestively.

  For a long moment, I was tempted. We hadn’t seen each other in days before the trip, and wouldn’t be alone again until Sunday. Sneaking off for a quickie might be just what the doctor ordered. Alas, duty called. We could have all the sex we wanted back in Florida, on Justin’s comfortable king-sized mattress, rather than a twin bunkbed where my ex-boyfriend could walk in at any minute.

  I chuckled and kissed his cheek. “Nice try, Romeo. I need to get this recipe, which means I can’t piss Tammy Rae off by abandoning my post. Besides, I have to taste these coconut wonders before I spend all week sucking up to her. What if they’re gross?”

  “The ones Sarah made weren’t half bad.”

  “True, but we can’t build a business on ‘not half bad.’ We watched the finale a hundred times this week to figure out what she was doing, but our cupcakes still aren’t as light and fluffy as the ones everyone raved over on the show.”

  “Did you ever consider that the whole thing was over-hyped for TV?”

  “Of course not. That never happens.” I rolled my eyes at him. “We know it could be a red herring. But since we’re here, I need a cupcake. And hopefully a recipe. If I don’t get it, I have to do the floors for the next month to make up for leaving Sarah right before our grand opening.”

  The cupcakes in question sat on a platter about five feet from the judge’s table, little bits of chocolatey goodness piled high with coconut frosting and sprinkled with toasted coconut. With all the chlorine and sunscreen in the air, I couldn’t get a whiff of the promise they held, but they looked exactly like what I’d seen on TV.

  Hopefully, when I bit into it, I’d find moist, fluffy chocolate cake and coconut filling. Every time Sarah tried to make something similar, it fell apart, or it turned out too dense. It could be a matter of proportion, but Tammy Rae had gone on and on about her “secret ingredient” while she made the cupcakes, going so far as to cover the camera when she added something from a brown paper bag to the mixing bowl before adding the rest of the dry ingredients. That bag held the key to the cupcakes’ texture. And I was determined to find out her secret, by whatever means necessary.

  “Okay!” Tammy Rae said from the deck in front of the pool. “Let’s see what our contestants came up with. Contestant number 1? What did you make for us?”

  Tabby stepped forward. “This dessert was inspired by my favorite movie in high school. Tammy Rae, I’m sure you’re familiar with The Breakfast Club.”

  My mom loved that movie; she watched it every rainy weekend when I was a kid. I never really saw the appeal. Then again, most of the jokes went right over my head. Tammy Rae was much closer to my mother’s age than mine. As was Tabby.

  “Absolutely, Tabby! Who doesn’t love the Brat Pack?” Tammy Rae said.

  “Exactly. Remember the scene where they eat lunch?”

  “Do I? Actually, we’ve got a surprise for you. If you turn toward the big screen over the pool, we’ve brought the clip so our judges and contestants can witness your inspiration firsthand.”

  On the screen, a chick about my age with dark, shaggy hair sat at a table in a room filled with books. She was supposed to be in high school? My mouth dropped in horror when she pulled out two pieces of bread, smothered them with Pixie Stix, added breakfast cereal, then put it together and ate it. Beside me, Justin shuddered. What the hell had we gotten ourselves into? I didn’t want to eat that.

  “I went with an interpretation. This is bread pudding, made with a Coca-Cola caramel reduction, Cap’n Crunch base, and sugar sprinkles. I used white and wheat bread, like in the movie.” That didn’t sound completely horrible. But then she said, “I present to you–The Basket Case!”

  The name of the dish did not make me feel any better. Would anyone notice if I dropped my plate into the pool?

  “For those of you who don’t know,” Tammy Rae said, “This character is referred to in the movie as ‘the basket case.’ We don’t think you have to be crazy to eat it. Well, probably not.”

  They both laughed while I congratulated myself on my strong stomach. The plate set before us looked like normal bread pudding. The dessert wasn’t my favorite, but eating it wouldn’t kill me. Probably.

  I pushed it toward Justin. “You first.”

  “Oh, no,” he said. “Ladies first. Absolutely.”

  Tentatively, I leaned forward and sniffed.

  “What do you think, Jen?” Tammy Rae asked.

  “It smells normal!” The crowd cheered, so I prodded it gently with my fork. “It’s nice and soft.”

  “Moment of truth. What does it taste like?”

  Slightly emboldened by the smell, I forced myself to take a bite. Cinnamon and caramel filled my mouth. The cereal, which I expected to be appalling, added a nice crunch. The sauce tasted like regular caramel—I’d never have guessed she used soda to make it.

  “I’m very sorry, Tammy Rae, but you’re going to have to bring Justin his own piece, because I’m not sharing this. It’s delicious!”

  The crowd went wild. Justin leaned around me and grabbed the plate, popping the entire rest of the piece into his mouth in one bite. Unable to speak, he raised both his hands, giving it two thumbs up.

  “Looks like our Fishbowl judges love the Basket Case!” Tammy Rae shouted. “Now, what did contestant number two make for us?”

  Ed stepped forward. “As Jen and Justin well know, I’m one hell of a chef. However, I don’t have a ton of experience with baking. I prefer acting on instinct, not having to measure precisely or worry about ratios. So, I let the muse guide me through this recipe. Here we have, Ed’s Apple Crema Brownies: apple butter brownies made with a hand-whipped caramel-scented whipped cream.”

  The thing sitting on the plate in front of me was not brown. As a lifelong brownie connoisseur, I immediately recognized this as a problem. “Ed? Why is this brownie yellow?”

  He waved his hand. “Come on, Jen. You know ‘brownie’ is a figure of speech.”

  Right. Next he’d be telling me “chocolate chip cookie” could be interpreted by adding things like ham or motor oil. I lifted the plate, then let it thud onto the table.

  “Justin, you’re first this time. No arguing. And I see you trying to run.” Tammy Rae flashed blindingly white teeth at the crowd.

  My boyfriend stopped trying to scoot his chair away from the judge’s table. At least he had the good grace to blush at Tammy Rae’s words. The crowd laughed. Leaning forward, he pressed his fork against the top of the “brownie.” It slid smoothly through the whipped cream, then stopped. He pressed harder. Nothing happened.

  “Out of curiosity, what’s in this?”

  At the table beside us, a judge with dark brown hair and glasses knocked carefully on the top of the brownie. At the table to the right, a plate clattered loudly to the floor. “Oh, no!” Wyatt said. “I seem to have . . . destroyed mine?”

  He leaned down to pick up the plate, but when he straightened, the brownie remained in one piece. Being dropped three feet onto a hard surface didn’t even dent it. I resisted the urge to see if it left a hole in the deck.

  “It’s normal brownie stuff,” Ed said. “Oil and flour and eggs and sugar and stuff. Taste it. I’m sure it’s great.”

  Still looking doubtful, Justin picked up the brownie. He moved it toward his mouth in exaggerated slow motion.

  “Do you need me to make airplane noises?” Ed asked.

  Tammy Rae l
aughed. Above us, a yell split the air. I turned to see something yellow whizzing toward us. Before I could move or say anything, Justin lurched forward, dropping the brownie onto the deck and knocking me out of my chair.

  Chapter 9

  More from the Guppy Gabber, Monday:

  Ed: I want to make sure we’re all totes clear that my brownies did NOT knock Justin over. Total fluke, and not my fault at all.

  Ariana: I bet Jen pinched Justin to make him fall. It’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do to move attention away from the competition, on to her. No one paid any attention to Madison, after she worked so hard on those cupcakes.

  Braden: Dude, what is wrong with that Ariana girl?

  Danielle: Does anyone want this brownie? I’m not eating it.

  Landing on the same spot on my butt twice in two days left me wincing. What happened? Justin wouldn’t throw me on the ground on purpose.

  He sat doubled over in pain, eyes squeezed shut.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, still lying on the deck. Tammy Rae rushed over to see what happened.

  “Man, that hurt.” He sat up and reached one hand to me. “Something hit me. A bird?”

  Nearby, a small golf ball rolled under Wyatt’s chair. The yellow blur I spotted before I fell.

  Danielle pointed. “Hey guys? I think a ball escaped the mini-golf course.”

  Tammy Rae addressed the crowd. “We’re going to take a quick break, everyone. Sorry for the delay.”

  Following Danielle’s finger, I found an older woman leaning over the railing of the deck above us, waving her club. “Are you okay, son?”

  Grabbing the ball, Justin and I moved toward her. “Did you lose something?”

  “Oh my heavens! I hit Justin,” the woman said. “I’m so sorry. My friends will never believe I injured their favorite reality star.”

  “Not injured. Maybe bruised a little. It’s OK.” He raised the ball. “Catch?”

  “Wait! Will you sign the ball for me?”

  He flashed his dimples at her. “Sure. Give Janine your room number, and I’ll have someone bring it to you later.”

  The woman blew him a kiss and vanished from the railing.

  Justin’s smile faded the second she disappeared. He winced, rubbing his shoulder. “Man, that hurts. Can you check it out for me?”

  “I thought you were fine?” I asked.

  “What was I going to say to a sweet old lady, that she maimed me? It would break her heart. I’m sure I’ll live. But, damn.” He winced.

  “Turn around.” Lifting his shirt, I immediate spotted the point of impact–a big red welt on his left shoulder blade. “That’s going to leave a bruise. You should put some ice on it or something.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Janine appeared at our side. “Sorry, Justin, but you have to go to the infirmary and get a doctor to sign off. Legal’s rules.”

  He sighed. “Right now? Can’t I finish the competition?”

  “No, you can’t, and you really need to go now. We can’t finish the contest as long as you’re standing here.”

  “Well, crap. I’m sorry, Jen,” Justin said.

  “It’s okay. I’m going with you.”

  He cupped my face, gazing deeply into my eyes. My heart fluttered. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “You’re wounded. I’m not ditching you.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said. “Tammy Rae will be pissed if you leave. You have to finish the competition. Besides, if you leave now, you’ll never get to taste those cupcakes.”

  “I could have Ed bring me one?”

  “You trust Ed with baked goods?”

  “Good point. Thanks.” Popping onto my toes, I kissed him lightly. He pulled me in, sending a thrill down my spine. By the time Tammy Rae cleared her throat behind us, I’d nearly forgotten where we were.

  Justin let me go, his ears tinged a bright pink. “Sorry, everyone. I’m headed to get checked out. But, Jen, I think this is a sign not to eat Ed’s brownies.”

  Ed moved beside me, the two of us watching Justin’s back move toward the elevators. “Do you think I should go with him? I mean, I didn’t win, right?”

  “If this were a doorstop-making competition,” Danielle said, “I’d give you ten out of ten.”

  Tammy Rae dismissed Ed, and he trotted off down the deck after my boyfriend. The crowd clapped politely.

  The remaining two contestants presented regular desserts of the type I expected when signing up for this deal. Braden created a pie using a chocolate cookie-crumb crust and a chocolate pudding filling, with chocolate-hazelnut spread on the top. It may not have been the fanciest or prettiest dessert I’d ever seen, but it smelled awesome, and all the ingredients tasted good separately. Were we awarding points on what would be easiest to throw together while drunk, Braden would’ve won hands down.

  Madison approached the table last, her interpreter speaking as Madison’s hands flew through the air. “This is my grandmother’s recipe. Chocolate cupcakes with a caramelized banana filling and whipped peanut butter frosting. She called it ‘The Elvis. ’ ”

  Before Madison finished giving the description, I wanted to snatch the cake from her hand and devour it. I asked Tammy Rae to give me two so I could take one to Justin, but neither lasted more than about five seconds. Madison’s creation was by far the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. Moist, chocolate cake. Caramelized bananas sounded weird, but added interesting texture and a smoky sweetness. Add in the nutty creaminess of the frosting, and all I wanted was to abandon the coconut cupcake plan and beg Madison to tell us what she’d put in these instead.

  Once all the scores were tallied, Tammy Rae read the results. “In fourth place, well, this isn’t much of a surprise. You maim a judge with your creation, you usually don’t win. I learned that lesson on my first episode of Totally ’80s Bake-off, when one of my co-competitors accidentally stabbed a judge in the arm while slicing a lemon meringue pie. We’re still not sure how he managed it.”

  The crowd gasped, then nervous titters waved around the deck.

  “I’m kidding, guys!” Tammy Rae said. “Well, sort of. The judge was fine. In third place, with a total score of twenty-seven, is Braden with his chocolate-hazelnut pie. Well done, Braden!”

  He smiled and waved, while I wondered how much longer I needed to wait before finding Justin. Or if he and Ed would come back once he got an ice pack and some painkillers. They’d probably make him sign another waiver.

  “In second place,” Tammy Rae said, “with a total score of thirty-five points, is Tabby Rangoon’s ‘The Basket Case!’ Congratulations, Tabby! The producers have awarded you this bottle of champagne for your efforts. And the winner is Madison from Deaf Teen Mother!”

  The crowd erupted, several people leaping to their feet. A flash of confusion crossed Madison’s face, but she broke out into a smile when her interpreter finished signing Tammy Rae’s words.

  On the table to my left, I noticed Danielle hadn’t finished her cupcake, and I thought about popping it into my mouth while no one was looking. She caught my gaze, and shook her head, drawing one finger across her throat like a knife.

  “I’m serious about my baked goods, girl,” she said. “Don’t try it. I’m saving the rest for later.”

  Finally, after a round of pictures with all the winners, Tammy Rae gestured to the table full of cupcakes now starting to droop in the sun. I promptly forgot the baked goods already sitting in my belly and raced for the table.

  Halfway there, I tripped. A teddy bear lay on the deck. The same rainbow-colored stuffed animal I’d seen peeking out of the bottom of Madison’s stroller that first day by the elevator. She must have dropped it. My quest for the perfect cupcake would have to wait a minute.

  Scanning the deck, I spotted Madison and Ariana headed toward the elevators.

  “Madison!” I yelled. The interpreter must not have heard me over the crowd, because neither she nor Madison turned their heads. I tried again, shouting for
Ariana instead.

  The three women stopped, and I waved the bear over my head. Madison thanked me profusely while Ariana snorted at the ground. Whatever. A moment later, the bear was back in the arms of its rightful owner, and I made it back to the cupcake table before the other guests ate them all.

  With a sigh of relief, one cupcake went straight into the plastic container in my bag. Silently, I thanked Justin for going to the infirmary, giving me an excuse to take an extra. Then I found a shaded corner of the deck area and sat down to examine my prize.

  The cupcake looked perfectly normal. It didn’t weigh a ton like Ed’s “brownie,” it was the right color for what was supposed to be in it, it wasn’t made primarily from pre-packaged junk food, and it didn’t have a scary eighties movie introduction. Melted frosting ran down one side. Had this been entered in the contest, the presentation put it in a distant second place so far, but the melting wasn’t Tammy Rae’s fault. She hadn’t planned for a mid-contest interruption.

  For a moment, panic seized me. What if I hated it, and I’d dragged Justin on this trip for nothing? Left Sarah all alone to prepare the store and watch their mother for no good reason? But the tiny cake looked good, it smelled good, and it won the grand prize on a baking show, so I swallowed my fears and took a bite.

  To my surprise, the cupcake delivered fully on its promise. The cake itself was light, chocolatey, and moist. The filling exploded with coconut flavor. The frosting carried a hint of almond or something, and the toasted coconut gave the texture a nice contrast. Had Tammy Rae’s cupcake been in the competition, it would’ve won, hands down. I sat back, patting my stomach with a satisfied smile.

  Now I needed to convince Tammy Rae to tell me what she put in it.

  * * *

  After the bake-off, Tammy Rae stayed on the main deck, handing out cupcakes and posing for pictures with the fans. Although part of me knew I should check on Justin, I stayed, sitting with Danielle on a nearby chaise and waiting for my window to approach Tammy Rae. I’d come here with a purpose. I couldn’t let one Taylor twin down because of the other: Both would be pissed. Besides, maybe some time in the infirmary would help him get over his frustration with being only half of “Jen and Justin.”