by Farrah Paige
“What?”
He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me.
“What is this?” I asked.
“It’s the deed to this plaza,” he said. “Bought the whole thing for a song. You’re doing well, but a lot of the other places are struggling. Except for the phone store. They always do well.”
“Y-y-you’re my landlord now?” I asked. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to do the show,” he smiled. “And if you don’t for some crazy reason, I’m going to raise your rent $500 every month until you’re forced to find a new place. Or maybe I’ll just kick you out. I own the place, I can do what I want, which is why I walked in here like I did.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“Because I can and because I know great television,” he said. “You are great television and I need you on the show. So, here’s your plane ticket, see you in L.A. in two days. Oh, and here’s a second ticket. Bring that cutie you have running the register. I like her. Put in a good word for me.”
“Look, I’ll do your stupid show, but if you even speak to Emma, I’m out. You read me?” I said grimly.
He just laughed and walked out. I didn’t know if he considered what I said a real threat or if he just didn’t care. Then he popped back in and walked right up to me, getting into my personal space.
“One more thing,” he said. “Don’t even think about throwing the competition to get off the show early.”
Emma popped in and saw Steven staring into my face and me looking angry at him.
“Is everything okay in here, Honey?” she asked.
“It’s fine,” I assured her. “Just keep taking care of the customers.”
Emma left. Steven winked.
“Good girl. See you in L.A. Trust me,” he smiled. “You’re going to love it.”
When he walked out, I locked the door behind him. I didn’t want that little snake ever in my kitchen again. Dammit. The one thing that could kill my business would be for me to have to move after it got established. It was far too early, and I think I would literally die if I had to set up an entire new bakery.
I would, however, do it as soon as I could. After the show, with whatever money I had, I’d start looking for a new place. I already needed a bigger place anyway and getting away from Steven was a great incentive.
Jesus, I was actually going to do this. Be on TV, gain even more exposure and not to mention: Oh, shit. Ethan and Clark. Now I’d have to deal with both of them. Ethan clearly was the leader for my affections, but Clark was handsome too. Well, I guess it would be fair if I didn’t date either one of them. At this point, I’d be willing to date the one that could get Steven off my back.
Emma peeked back into the kitchen, noting my distress.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m doing the stupid Baker Battles.”
“Oh, my God. That’s so great.” she said excited. “Can I come and be your assistant?”
I handed her a plane ticket.
“Yep,” I sighed.
“Oh, my God. We’re going to Los Angeles? Ahhh. I have so many people to text,” she squealed.
“But take care of the---“
“Oh, right. The customers,” she said, coming back to reality.
Ah, who knows? Maybe I was being dark and pessimistic for no reason. Ethan and Clark both seemed like decent guys. I mean, apart, not together. Together they were like oil and water mixed with explosives. Maybe I could date one or even both of them. Why not? I was basically being blackmailed to go to L.A., I might as well have a good time.
Maybe since both chefs were interested in me, I could broker some kind of peace deal between them. Yeah. Why not? If I could do that, then they could help me get out from under Steven. Together, he’d have to listen to his co-judges. I mean, what would the Baker Battles show be without Chefs Jones and Peterson, right?
Emma and I continued to work throughout the day. Emma had already announced that we would be leaving for L.A. for a few days to be on the show. In fact, she announced it to the whole bakery while I was brooding. The customers seemed to take it well. I’d have to shut down for a few days. Hopefully no more than that. How long do these things take? Don’t they shoot like two or three episodes in a day? Hopefully, we could knock out the whole thing by the weekend and I could be back her next week.
If that happened, then I could put this behind me, look for a new spot and maybe make the move before the December rush. If I got really ambitious, I could keep both places open and hire some more staff. Then if Steven decided to pressure me again, I could just close this bakery down and keep the other. I’d combine the staff and have the best run bakery. Maybe then, with such a huge staff, I’d have days off. I could just come in and supervise. Then I could take some time for me and start a real relationship. Hmm, maybe this whole TV show thing is a blessing.
Chapter 9
Honey
I guess I might be some kind of weirdo as I don’t like to travel. Who likes to pack up all their stuff, lug it around, go to the airport, fly on a plane and then have to live in a strange building? Not me. Emma couldn’t wait to pack her bag. She picked me up with her Uber. I guess I looked a little down.
“Hey, is everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I just, it’s fine. I’m not much of a traveler,” I said.
“What? It’s great,” she beamed. “You get to see the country and meet people.”
“All I can think about is all the work I’m going to have to do when I get back,” I said. “You’ll understand once you have a business.”
The airport, as always, was a nightmare. We waited in a huge line, got into a discussion about whether or not Emma’s overhead bag was small enough, then another huge line for the TSA. I hated the TSA. What terrorist is going to be stupid enough to get caught because some fat, sweaty mouth breather is allowed to feel him up in a random check.
Emma bought me a drink, which helped settle my nerves on the flight. Sure, flying’s supposedly safe, but planes do crash. It’s just the unlucky people that happen to be on the wrong flight. You can’t help but think, “Is this the flight that will be on the news tonight?” The worst part about dying on a plane, you spent your last day getting tortured in an airport.
We touch down in L.A. and just when I think my ordeal’s over we end up on the tarmac for two hours. Two hours? How does the traffic on a runway get backed up that much? Can’t they just pull to the side of a hangar or something and let us out? And the airlines offer you nothing in the way of compensating you for your time. Did they ever? Jeez, I think I would’ve rather driven across country. Dammit. I should’ve told Steven I was afraid of flying. Then he could wait while we take the train for three days.
“Oh, my God. Look,” said Emma excited.
When we got to the baggage area, a limo driver had a sign with my name on it. I greeted the driver and he took our bags while leading us to the car. Emma was jumping up and down.
The limo ride was nice. We had a TV and beverages. Unfortunately, the L.A. traffic was just as legendary as everyone said. The highway was just a sea of cars. I didn’t know how anyone got around here. You can’t live in L.A. without a car, but the traffic is always stopped. How does that work?
The driver dropped us off at the hotel, which was very nice. We checked in.
“Ms. Davidson?” said the front desk person. “These arrived for you.”
There were two bouquets of flowers. I checked one card and Emma checked the other.
“This one’s from Ethan,” I read.
“This one’s from Clark,” Emma noted. “Aw, that’s nice. They’re sorry for fighting.”
“Yeah,” I said neutrally.
“What?” asked Emma.
“Well, I can’t help but think,” I said as we walked toward the elevators. “Are they apologizing because they’re sorry or are they just worried about the show.”
“That’s true,” said Emma. “Boy, Honey, you’re alway
s kind of pessimistic.”
“Am I?” I asked.
“But in a good way,” Emma said diplomatically. “I mean, I would just assume they were sorry, but you see things in the bigger picture sometimes. I guess that’s why you’re a successful businesswoman.”
We got to our rooms and I put the flowers on a table. The rooms were very nice. Maybe I was being a downer for no reason. There was a lot of money to be made here and fame is fleeting. Maybe I should just go along with this. I have no reason to believe that it won’t be good for me.
“I’m going to grab a shower,” said Emma.
“I think I’m going to go downstairs and grab some coffee,” I said. “I’ll text you if I hear anything from the producer.”
“Okay,” said Emma.
I went down to the lobby and headed for the café. Up ahead, I could hear a commotion. It was then I realized that I could also hear familiar voices. Ethan and Clark were in the middle of the lobby fighting again.
“Get out of here, you heathen,” said Ethan snobbishly. “Where do you think you’re going to take her to? A visit to the In and Out burger and then a drink at Hooters?”
“Please, I have more class in my pinky than you do in your entire fake persona,” said Clark. “So why don’t you do the world a favor and go find some hotel kitchen to pass off your butter covered slop as cuisine.”
“Butter covered slop?!” yelled Ethan, outraged. “This is a joke coming from someone who isn’t fit to work the donut fryer at Krispy Kreme.”
“You insisted on meeting her first, breaking the rule you agreed upon, so I’m taking her out,” insisted Clark.
Ethan grabbed Clark by the arm
“I have already made a move on Ms. Davidson, so you are too late,” Ethan informed him.
“Get off me, Frenchie,” snapped Clark, shoving him.
Clark shoved Ethan a little too hard. He staggered back and tripped backwards on some low lobby furniture. At that point, Clark looked up and saw me standing at the edge of the lobby.
“Honey?”
A second later, Ethan tackled him. The other chef was totally furious and didn’t see or hear me. I rushed over to break the two of them up along with a security guard.
“Stop it! Stop it!” I shouted.
The security guard pulled them apart.
“Do we have a problem here?” asked the guard forcefully.
“We do not,” I said speaking for them. “I’m sorry. They promise not to fight, right guys?”
The two chefs reluctantly agreed.
“I see any more shit from you two, I’m going to handcuff your asses and call the cops,” he threatened. “Now unless you’re a guest, you have to leave.”
“C’mon, guys,” I said, guiding them out the front door.
In front of the hotel, I confronted the chefs.
“Well, that was embarrassing,” I said. “Do you mind telling me what you think you were doing?”
Immediately, they both began to talk over each other. I eventually had to shout them down and shut them up.
“Okay!” I snapped. “Jesus Christ.”
“I just wanted to take you sightseeing,” said Clark.
“I did too,” added Ethan. “This is what I wanted to do. Because we are so close.”
“All right, look,” I said. “How about you both take me sightseeing, all right? I mean, I like both of you and since we’re all working on the show I think that would be fun.”
“No way,” said Clark. “You don’t know this guy, Honey. He’s a snake.”
“You heard him,” pointed Ethan. “He does not want to go. Just you and me.”
“It’s either both of you or I’m going back up to my hotel room to take a nap,” I threatened.
They both muttered “fine” or something to that effect and the three of us went off sightseeing. First, we swung by the Le Brea Tar pits to look at the bones they had pulled out of there. It was a bit too sciencey for me, but interesting.
Next, we went down to the Mann’s Chinese Theater to see all the celebrity hand prints and to walk along where all the stars had their stars in the sidewalk. We saw the star for Bobby Flay and then stopped by the Guy Fieri star.
“It should be deep fried,” said Ethan.
“And covered in cheese and barbecue sauce,” added Clark.
“God, you guys are so catty,” I laughed. “We are chefs. Well, at least I am.”
We continued to get driven around in a limo. The boys seemed to have endless access to them. Must be nice.
Los Angeles is such a weird town. Everything seems vaguely familiar because they’re constantly shooting TV shows and movies there. Every parking lot looks like a scene from a detective show, every building an establishing shot for some sitcom and every house on the hill a scene from some movie.
Speaking of which, we went to the observatory which last made an appearance in Rebel Without a Cause or that Steve Martin movie. What was it? Bowfinger, I think. You show up and you half expect a famous person to be there. But L.A. is full of famous people. I did see character actors walking around in the Starbucks. I knew him enough to remember him from a show, but not enough to know the actor’s name. Clark suggested I go ask for an autograph, but I didn’t want to bother him. Besides, what is an autograph really? Just a piece of paper with some scribble on it. It was enough for me to see a famous actor and remember it.
We ended up doing lunch in this high-end cheese place where the grilled cheese cost $35 and they bring you all sorts of crazy cheeses to eat. The guys were both known by name by the owner, who fawned all over them to the point of ignoring most of his other customers. That’s the way it was in Los Angeles, it was like have some star power or GTFO.
Speaking of which, we were in Universal Studios on a tour. It was something I had never done, and the boys reluctantly went along. When we got to a point in the tour it stopped dead to let some celebrity and his friends out. They had access that we didn’t. It was some actress who is in everything now. I can’t remember her name. But you would’ve thought we didn’t exist at that point. I guess I realized how the people in the cheese shop must’ve felt.
We drove through Beverly Hills and past the houses belonging to celebrities. Some were way up into the hills on massive gated estates that were guarded around the clock by security. So really, all you could see was the gate. It seemed foolish to me to buy a house up on a hill in a city known for its earthquakes.
Did you ever see those houses that like, jut out over a cliff? There were tons of them like that. When you were on the same level as them, they looked like normal houses, but when you were at the bottom of the hill looking up? Oh, my God. It looked like the only thing between them and instant death were three or four metal supports. I mean, those supports never looked like much. If even one of them went, the entire house would plummet down a ravine, probably taking out two or three houses with it.
For dinner, we went to this exclusive little Portuguese place that the boys argued over. Ethan said it wasn’t authentic, but Clark insisted that new wave fusion cuisine didn’t have to be, it just had to be good. Whatever it was, it was full of cilantro, which I greatly enjoyed.
I didn’t say anything, but I got the distinct impression that Steven had a lot to do with the day. At one point, Ethan had made reference to a spot “Steven had recommended” and at another point Clark said that Steven “told him about this spot”. Did Steven orchestrate this? Did he send them both into the hotel lobby at the same time just so they would fight over me? Was this how they got ratings on the show?
“Hey guys,” I started to say.
In midsentence, I changed my mind. We had had such a great day and the guys seemed generally in a good mood. I didn’t want to spoil it with what I think might have been just speculation. So in midsentence, I decided to say something different.
“I had a really great time today,” I said.
The boys went back to arguing over the merits of fusion cuisine and I went back to form
ulating a plan. I had to be very careful over the next few days. If Steven was trying to manipulate us, he had so far gotten everything he wanted. He wanted me on the show, so here I was. And I was pretty sure he wanted the boys to fight.
The guys seemed blissfully unaware. I think they were so smitten by me, they were just blind to it. Meanwhile, I had to think about my own intentions. What if they were both genuinely interested in me? Was it fair to string one along? Did I owe more to Ethan than Clark? And if I did, what if I now like Clark more? For now, I would try to be with both of them and see where it led.
Chapter 10
Clark
Ethan and I had dropped Honey off at the hotel and were now headed out.
“Hey man, listen,” I said. “I really don’t want any bad blood between us. I’m glad we could just go out and have fun today with Honey.”
“Fair enough,” said Ethan, answering the phone. “Excuse me, I’ve been trying to get my publisher on the phone all day. We’ll talk more later.”
Ethan got into a cab and took off. I was about to get into one too, but I decided to go back inside and use the bathroom. I came out of the bathroom and headed for the door. Honey came out of the coffee shop. They had just closed.
“What kind of coffee shop closes this early?” she said.
“The hotel kind, I guess,” I smiled. “Didn’t you have a coffee at Starbucks?”
“Yeah, but, I really wanted another,” she said. “I’m really nervous about filming tomorrow.”
“Well, coffee’s probably not the best idea,” I said. “You know, I could take you to the studio. Give you a tour, if you like. It’s after hours. Should be empty.”
“Oh, that probably would really help,” she said. “Are you sure that’s okay? I mean, wouldn’t it get you in trouble?”
“No-no, it’s fine,” I assured.
“What about Ethan?” she said warily.
“He had to talk to his book publisher,” said Clark. “He bolted out of here. Normally I’d have some business stuff to do too, but not today. C’mon, it’s fine. I promise.”
