by M. J. O'Shea
“Not at all. I’m parked over here.” Kai pointed to a shiny new Jeep. “I just got the car. Moved over here a few months ago for a job opportunity.” He gave Chase a rueful grin. “They’re not going to be too happy if I have to quit to be on the show.”
Kai had seemed super intense and driven in the kitchen, but out of it, he was friendly. Laid back. Chase decided not to comment on that. Sometimes chefs tended to get a new personality when they were working with their food.
“If I make it onto the show, my mom and my sister are going to run my shop. I’ve been freezing extra tubs of ice cream for weeks just in case.”
“You’ll get in, no problem.” Kai looked awfully sure for someone who hadn’t tasted Chase’s ice cream.
“You really think seven of those people were worse than me?”
“Sure. Plus you’re adorable. Everyone likes adorable.”
Chase’s ears heated up. Once again, he didn’t know what to say. Was Kai flirting with him? Was he even gay? “Um, I hope so” was Chase’s slick reply. He got another one of those flashy white grins.
“Where do you live in Wisconsin? Small town?” Kai asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.
“Not anymore. I’m in Madison now. But even that’s a small town compared to here.”
“You want to stay there?”
Chase shrugged. “I mean, my family lives there. But I hate the winters and I’d like to try somewhere else for a change.”
“I get that. Oahu is always going to be home, but it got… small. Beautiful but small. You been there?”
“No. I wish.” Chase couldn’t imagine anywhere he’d rather be in the middle of a Wisconsin winter.
“You can drive from the south of the island to the north shore in an hour if you go through the middle. Maybe two if you take Kamehameha Highway.”
“What was that word you just said?” Chase asked. He’d never felt more like a country boy than since he’d landed in Los Angeles less than forty-eight hours ago.
“Kamehameha. He was a king. There’s lots of things named after him on the island. Maybe someday I’ll show you, yeah?”
Kai’s voice was soft and deep, the accent lilting. It made Chase’s insides do funny things. He simply nodded and hoped Kai saw him.
Chase didn’t know why this beautiful man was flirting with him or being nice at all, but it felt good to have some real human interaction after the crazy flurry that had been their weekend.
“Do you have anywhere to eat tonight?” Kai asked.
“No.” Chase frowned. “I have a car picking me up at the hotel in an hour for my flight, so I’m basically going to pack and head out.”
Kai pulled into the horseshoe-shaped entrance at the front of the hotel. “That’s too bad. Maybe I’ll see you in a month.”
Chase turned and smiled. His smile felt a little wistful, probably looked it too. He didn’t share Kai’s confidence that he’d be back, and all of a sudden he wanted to.
“I hope so.” He really, really did. Now more than ever, he wanted to come back to Burned and Los Angeles and Kai. There was something zinging between them, even in the few minutes they’d been talking. It was there and he wanted more of it. Chase regretted his decision to take an early flight back so he could open the shop on Monday. He smiled ruefully.
“Don’t freeze back there in the snow.” Kai winked.
Jesus, you can’t do those things to me. Chase snorted. “Not likely.”
He hopped out of the car and waved to Kai, who returned the wave before pulling away.
Chapter 2
The Baker’s Dozen — Arriving at the Burned Studios
Welcome to a new season of Burned, where we find fresh new cooking talent… and a few culinary disasters! Every season we do something a little different, and this time it’s all about the sweet things in life. That’s right. We’re doing an entire season of desserts!
Our thirteen finalists are descending on the Burned kitchens this week to show us what they’re made of! We can’t wait to taste all the amazing things they make for us and cringe with the audience over some truly awful disasters. To up the ante in our massive dessert-themed season, the prizes are huge! Our grand prize winner gets a year of specialized pastry training in Paris, a whole kitchen’s worth of top-of-the-line commercial tools and appliances, and a hundred thousand dollars to open his or her own shop or build their current business!
With stakes this big, we ask the one question on everyone’s mind: Do these chefs have what it takes to rise to the top? Or will they get Burned?
One month later….
Chase stomped snow off of his boots as he walked into the front door of his building, holding the door to let his sister pass through first. He’d loved this place from the second he moved in. Only three lofts, one per floor, in a converted warehouse. It was a little cold in the middle of winter, which he’d quickly found out. He’d bought the place in the spring, when the huge ceilings had felt airy and fantastic. Not so great when there was three feet of snow outside. Still, it was home, and he loved it.
“Hey, Rubes. Are you staying tonight or trying to get home?” They had good roadwork teams; they had to, because a lot of snow could fall in a very short space of time, and it got very cold and dark at night. He’d rather see his sister on his pull-out couch than in a ditch on some country road.
“I’ll stay, if that’s cool. We can make dinner and watch a movie.”
Chase wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Sounds good to me. You know I don’t like having you all over the roads at night when it’s snowing.”
“I think you don’t like being in this place all alone. You’re used to Mom and Dad’s house.”
Chase hadn’t seen any reason not to move back to his family’s farm after college. He could help with the cows and the property, help with the cooking, and there was plenty of room in the house. It was only after he’d opened Old House Creamery that he’d had to move to the city. The long drive every day from the farm into Madison had gotten annoying. He did miss his family, though. Chase figured his sister was right. He wasn’t meant to live alone.
“What do you want to watch?” he asked. Admitting to himself he wished he was back with the family was one thing. Saying it out loud to his little sister was another. Better change the subject.
“I don’t care. X-Men?”
Ruby’d always had a thing for superheroes. Chase remembered when she’d dressed up as Batman for Halloween three years in a row when they were kids. His parents hadn’t ever had a problem with it, or tried to force Ruby to be more girly. Just like they hadn’t questioned it when Chase came home from college with his first boyfriend. They were kinda great like that.
“I can do X-Men. Lemme grab my mail and I’ll be right up, okay?”
* * *
He trotted down the stairs to the mailboxes in the front hall. The main hallway was cold. Chase reminded himself for the millionth time to put his mail key on his keychain, so he didn’t have to go all the way up to the dish by his door to get it every day. The little things. He was still learning how to have his own place.
He opened his mailbox and pulled out the usual assortment of envelopes, followed by one very thick one. Chase looked at it, confused, for one short moment until he saw “Burned Studios” up in the left-hand corner. Burned Studios. And everyone knew a thick envelope was better than a thin one.
Holy shit.
Chase was notoriously horrible at checking his messages but he remembered his phone going off earlier. Shit. Holy, holy shit. He sprinted back up the stairs. Ruby would’ve killed him if he’d opened it before she was around to share the good news.
“Rubes! I heard from Burned.”
“And?” She scrambled out from behind his kitchen island where she’d been chopping lettuce for a salad.
“I didn’t open it yet! I was waiting for you.”
“Now, now, now.” Ruby rubbed her hands off on the thighs of her jeans and stared at the enve
lope in his hand.
Chase’s fingers shook a little as he ripped the damn thing open, but a little shaking turned into full-on tremors when he read the “congratulations” notice on the top of the cover letter.
“I made it. Holy fuck. Rubes, I’m going to be on TV.”
Ruby squealed and jumped up to hug Chase hard. He wrapped his arms around his sister’s back, letter still clutched in one shaking hand.
“I can’t believe it!” she screeched. “I’m going to call Mom and Dad.”
“Yeah, yeah. Call. I’m….” He didn’t know what to say. He’d thought the judges had liked his Wisconsin-themed ice cream, but he couldn’t ever be sure. Damn. Burned.
I’m going to be on Burned.
Chase remembered watching Burned with his ex-boyfriend Troy at night when he slept over at Troy’s place. It hadn’t even been a tangible hope at that point, just something he thought would be amazing in some pipe dream alternate reality. He’d still been working at the farm back then, barely done with culinary school, and he hadn’t taken himself seriously yet.
Well, someone’s taking me seriously now.
Chase wanted to pinch himself.
It had been a sweaty night at Donovan’s, and Kai wasn’t even working in front of a stove. The heat inside the kitchen had reached insane temperatures and, not for the first time, he sent up a prayer of thanks he wasn’t on the entrees line. He’d done almost two hundred covers for dessert, and finally, at one thirty in the morning, he managed to escape into the fresh air for a chance to catch his breath. There was still some cleaning up to do, but his boss had let them take a few minutes before they started closedown.
He sat down on the cool benches in the smoking shelter in the back parking lot where a few of his colleagues were taking their break. He was wearing chef’s whites head to toe, which had sucked in the fall when he’d first gotten there, and it was still hot, but it wasn’t so bad in winter when Los Angeles weather was balmy and a bit cool. At least it was a tiny bit refreshing outside after the hellhole that was the kitchen. After nodding to a few people, he unlocked his phone and started to thumb through the messages.
He answered the texts first: a good-night message from his mom that made him smile, and then a Where are you? from one of his acquaintances that had been followed a half hour later with a Shit, sorry, forgot you were working. L.A. people were fickle, and Kai hadn’t managed to make very many friends outside of work who stuck around. Working while everyone else was out drinking was one of the few things that sucked about his job.
There were a couple missed calls and one voicemail from a number he didn’t recognize.
“Mr. Chin,” a sharp, female voice said. “This is Kristen at Burned. We would like to offer you a place on the upcoming season of the show. We’ve messengered you out a contract package. Please read the materials carefully. Contact information will be on the cover letter if you have any questions. Congratulations!”
Kai had been expecting it in a way after he’d seen his competition, but you could never really expect news like that. He was still stunned to actually hear the words.
He’d gotten on the show.
He’d gotten on the motherfucking show.
Kai had watched every season of Burned almost religiously. If he were being really honest, he might admit it was the reason why he’d moved to L.A. three months before just to audition. He hadn’t put much stake in it until he’d been standing in the elimination round as one of the nineteen hopefuls. Even then, after he’d done well in the last round, it was still all purely theoretical until someone offered him a job. They just did.
Shit.
His job.
Kai had worked his ass off to get a place in Donovan’s, then had had to prove himself over a grueling four-week interview process before he’d been given a job. Now he was about to throw all that away only a few months later, and for what? A TV show. A TV show that held absolutely no guarantees.
Kai turned his phone over in his hands, thinking hard until a voice from the kitchen summoned them all back in to finish the closedown. Kai hauled himself to his feet and tucked the phone into his back pocket, determined to force the issue out of his mind. Get the job done first. That was his number-one rule. Leave the bullshit at the door and do a good job.
* * *
Three days later he showed up, duffel bags in hand, to the luxurious Bryant Tower in West Hollywood. Although it had hurt his heart to let go of the job he’d worked so hard for, especially working under a head chef like Donovan Lane, it was his dream to let his food make a name for himself, not someone else. While he didn’t necessarily need the show, it sure as hell would do him a lot of good to have it. Focus on the goal. He’d worked equally hard all through the auditions, determined to be the right talent, the right personality for the show. It wasn’t the time to lose focus.
There were cameras already filming as Kai stepped out of the black car that had been sent to pick him up from his own apartment, which was a little ridiculous since he could’ve driven himself. Kai made plans to go back for his Jeep the second he had a free minute. While he may owe his hypothetical future to Burned, he didn’t like the idea of being cooped up with no way out other than what the studio provided. He looked up, as he’d been instructed to do, then headed for the opulent main doors of the building. Inside a woman met him and checked his name off on her clipboard before even greeting him hello. She was waiting in a small sitting area on a deep leather couch, and a few other people he recognized from the show were milling around too.
“Kailua,” she said. “Hi. I’m Kristen, Tommy Johnson’s assistant. He’s the producer. I believe you met during the finals.”
“Yes, we did. And please call me Kai,” he said with a grin, and shook her proffered hand. He didn’t know who he had to be the nicest to, but his plan was to charm pretty much everyone. There was no point in missing any bases. Plus he bet half the chefs in that condo had dismissed Kristen because she was an assistant and therefore unimportant. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”
“Kai. Great. You’re one of the last to arrive, so most of the others are upstairs already. You’re sharing a room with”—she checked her clipboard again—“Chase, Carson, and Aaron.”
“Okay.” Chase. Damn. He’d remembered their short ride home together after the elimination round, his pink cheeks and blond good looks. Kai was looking forward to seeing him again. If for no other reason than some eye candy. Good was all of a sudden even better.
“You’ll go up to the penthouse level, apartment one. The other guys are in the room opposite yours, and the five women have a room in the opposite hallway.” She must’ve seen his eyes bug out. “It’s a big condo. Don’t worry. You won’t be on top of each other.” Wouldn’t mind being on top of Chase, to be honest.
“Okay,” he finally said. He wished he’d been more prepared. Kai liked to be prepared. Instead he felt stupid, like he should know more about what was going on. Which was, of course, stupid. But Kristen had a way about her with all that calm efficiency, with her ponytail and cell phone clipped to her waistband—probably permanently so, if Kai knew anything about the life of a TV producer’s assistant.
“Here’s your key. Feel free to spend a couple hours unpacking and relaxing. There’s a great rooftop patio for the apartments on the penthouse level to share. I’m sure you’ll love it. We’ll be back to get everyone at six to go down to the studio for formal introductions.”
He nodded, not wanting to say “okay” again, and thanked her before heading toward the bank of glass elevators. It probably wasn’t the time to mention glass elevators always made him feel like he was about to throw up. Better keep that to himself and close his eyes.
Bryant Tower was famously one of the nicest buildings in L.A., with luxury apartments that catered to expensive people with very expensive taste. Lots of business people, the odd minor celeb. It was a far cry from the one bedroom he’d left not even an hour ear
lier.
He hauled his duffel bags onto his shoulder. They weren't very heavy. Just some casual clothes and his toiletries. For all of the filming sequences there would be a wardrobe on set, so he didn’t need to take any of his own clothes for that. In fact, they’d been discouraged from bringing too many clothes, since the network couldn’t show any brand names. In any situation when the cameras would be around, they had to wear something from the wardrobe department. He guessed it wasn’t board shorts and a pair of flip-flops, which is what Kai usually lived in outside work. Getting all dressed up for the cameras wasn’t going to be fun. But worth it. Everything was worth it.
The producers had told him there was a limit on the personal items he could bring with him to the apartment in Bryant Tower; apparently they didn’t want the carefully designed interior messed with by tons of junk. Since he hadn’t been in L.A. very long, Kai didn’t have much in the way of possessions anyway. The only things he’d brought with him and hadn’t left behind in his apartment were a picture of his mother and father and Lei, his sister, in a silver frame, and his grandfather’s abalone shell lighter that had been passed down to him. They were two of the few things in the world Kai got sentimental about.
When the god-awful elevator ride was done, he stepped out into a long hallway with thick, plush carpets that muffled the noise of his footsteps. Their condo was only one of two on the top floor. He didn’t meet anyone else on the short journey. The place was almost spookily quiet.
Kai turned the lock, then pushed the door open.
A champagne bottle popped and he ducked instinctively.
Someone laughed, but he didn’t know who. The place was packed with people. Twelve of them, to be exact, but the assistant had been right. The condo was huge. They shouldn’t have too much trouble together for the weeks they were there. Especially as the place emptied out.
“I can’t believe you ducked! It wasn’t even coming in your direction,” Chase said, grinning at him as one of the other guys tipped bubbling liquid into a tall champagne flute.
