by R. J. Scott
At least that is what the director said in the little speech he’d given us as he lined us up in order, in between mumbling under his breath that Justin was too tall, and that he should maybe slouch. Justin confronted him and said he wasn’t slouching unless everyone else went up on tiptoes, which stopped the conversation dead. That’s what you get when you’re a celebrity social influencer like Justin with a million plus followers—you can call all the shots. Although I couldn’t help thinking that Justin wearing antlers diminished his celebrity-ship even if he looked so cutely sexy and what I wouldn’t give to hold him by the antlers and press a kiss to his full lips. Justin was Rudolph, complete with a huge red nose in the center of his chest and wooly ears. Whoever had chosen that sweater for him had worked magic, his blond hair, his smile, his beautiful eyes, his…
I really need to stop checking out Justin after I’d spoken to my damn sister about freaking condoms.
But let’s be honest, in turn he shouldn’t look so damn Justin-y.
I really needed to sign those damn papers and get my life back on track.
Courtney began talking again and then moved swiftly onto talking about the format. The lights were hot. My sweater was itchy, and I wanted to take it off and roll in the snow just to cool down.
“There will be three challenges on each round. The first is cupcakes, and there are themes that our bakers will be told the night before the show. The next challenge is the secret skill blind bake, which is set by our judges without warning or notice.” Courtney pouted at the camera and pointed at her chest. “I can’t be bribed unless it’s in chocolate,” she said, and we all knew to laugh at that point. None of this was new to us.
“Lastly, we have the showcase.” She added another flourish, this time to show off the diamonds on her wrist. She was made of bling. “The finale each week will use various skills set for that week, and each baker will have the chance to wow us with their skills. We want pizazz and skill and stunning showpieces that make us want to die for a taste.”
Dramatic much? I’d settle for making a bake that actually worked.
She paused a moment and then smiled. “And now, let me introduce you to my friends and co-judges for this exciting competition.” She did some more handwaving, sparkles emanating from her hand, and darted around the room as she moved, then she indicated to the opposite stairs to where a tall silver-haired man was sauntering down with utter poise. “World-renowned, Michelin starred pastry chef and owner of over fifty restaurants in select boutique hotels, Lewis Curren.” She paused as he reached the bottom stair and held out a hand to a slim woman with ebony hair who’d followed him down in a dress that barely stayed up. In fact, how it defied gravity I have no idea. “And Venetia Marlborough, owner of the M Delicious bakery chain and daughter of renowned nineties TV chef Austin Marlborough.”
The two judges air-kissed, and I watched for some affection between them, or even respect, but it was all acting. I recall from my season that those two were in their own worlds and acted out being friends for the camera. Lewis had no time for Venetia who wasn’t even a baking expert, and Venetia had no time for Lewis, who knew way too much and made her look stupid.
If this was a romance novel, they’d be kissing now and rocking the whole opposites attract vibe.
It didn’t look as if anything had changed in the last year, but you wouldn’t know it on camera. It was the subtle things I noticed, the distance between them, and the way they kept carefully apart. Lewis and Venetia really didn’t like each other, and by the way they were standing it seemed as if neither was that impressed with perky Courtney and her flowing dress. The camera was panning toward us, and at that very moment, all I wanted to do was yawn. I hadn’t slept last night, too keyed up to properly get my head down, and my phone kept beeping through the night with good luck messages from family and friends on both coasts, and an aunt in Australia, and arriving here this morning was like the first day at camp.
Which reminded me of the first time I ever baked, way back when I was only six, and we’d made cookies shaped like stop lights, complete with strawberry, apple, and lemon jelly for the colors. I’d gotten in trouble for eating the cookie dough, but it was worth it because from that day I’d been hooked on baking, and it had finally given me a career I loved.
“CUT!”
I snapped out of my thoughts and realized everyone was looking at me. What had I missed? I glanced left and right, a smile here, exasperation there. Justin winked at me. Holy shit he winked.
“Sorry,” I said because clearly I’d missed something big.
“Okay, attention please,” the director, a short round guy named Derek, sighed in exasperation. “Let’s go again, starting from Justin, season one. Let’s begin again, name, fondest memory of the show, hometown, and short introduction, and the charity you are hoping to win for. In five, four, three… ” He held up fingers for two and one, and then it was cameras rolling.
“Hi, I’m Justin Mallory from New York, and I was the winner of season one. My fondest memory of the competition was the episode where I won best in show with my take on a sachertorte. The charity I want to win the money for is the New York LGBTQ housing charity. I love cakes and pastries and not a day goes by that I don’t bake, but I have to be careful.” He patted his flat belly, and I envied his hand.
What? Earth to Brody, snap out of it.
Only I couldn’t snap out of it because Justin was the hero of my lust filled I-hate-my-ex-husband fantasies, and after talking to him today, he was even more up there. We’d been the same age, only nineteen. I was studying in college, and he was the winner of season one and taken the one hundred thousand dollar first prize. Just a skinny kid with spiky hair, eyeliner, and a ready smile, he had a passion for baking the same as me, and it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes. And now I was in the same room as him, just a few steps away, and for the first time in a long time, I was attracted to a man who wasn’t my soon-to-be completely-ex.
I’d envied him then when he had the chance to bake for a living and win that money, but I’d also had a healthy lust for the way he looked. Where some people loved actors, I loved the fact he could roll puff pastry with his eyes closed. He’d filled out now, and even with his Christmas sweater and those ridiculous antlers, he was attractive. Marc had agreed, had gone on and on about Justin’s package of sex and fun, but in the same sentence, he would criticize me for spending too much time looking at Justin. I should’ve known he was an asshole back then.
He was right though about staring at Justin. I probably had done it, but Justin was more than hair and abs. He’d been the hope that one day I could get on the show and maybe win. Then I wouldn’t be a barista struggling with student loans and a marketing course that was killing my creativity one day at a time. Justin had a job in a small bakery and winning had been his ticket to a new life where he could do what he wanted. Watching him win, I’d dreamed of myself in his position, able to set up my own business doing what I loved. It had taken until I was out of college, right until season four to get accepted as a contestant, but I’d done it, and my company Bakes by Brody was given the start it needed.
Concentrate. Shauna did her introduction, then Kristen, who was next to me, and then finally it was my turn.
“Hi, I’m Brody Thomas from Corning, New York, and I won season four. My fondest memory of the competition was before my season even started. It was the day I found out I was chosen to be a part of the show. In real life I own Bakes by Brody, or 3B as we like to call it, and I’m completely self-taught. I’m hoping to win to raise funds for a local hospice back home that looked after my grandfather.” Humor, I need to add something funny. I patted my belly, which was a lot softer than Justin’s. “Like Justin, I need to be careful, but let’s be honest, if it’s cake, I eat it.”
I carried a little extra weight than I was used to, my belly soft, but I tasted cake for a living, I had to cut myself some slack. A soft belly and fifteen pounds I didn’t need was a small price to
pay for everything I could achieve. Even if Marc had called me weak for not going to the gym. Weak? I hadn’t had the time to think about me when I worked every hour I was given.
I heard Justin laugh. God, he had an amazing laugh, all kinds of cute and sexy and—
Stop this shit. Focus.
Ivan took the baton from me, talked about his cat for some reason, then Clare did her spiel about technicality and how she was here to win, and we were done, the big intros finished.
“Okay, guys, that’s a wrap. Be back here at 8 a.m., first bake cupcakes, and we’re giving you a heads up way ahead of time so make this count. The theme is general Christmas and starts filming at ten. Any questions?”
No one said anything. We’d all been here before.
“Okay then,” Derek said and clapped his hands. “Venetia, Lewis, Courtney, a moment please for voice over clips.”
The six of us bakers stepped back and away, the jingle bells on Shauna’s sweater jangling in time to her steps, and then finally we were all in a back room which would become makeup central. We took off our Christmas sweaters, replacing them with our normal clothes. I used wipes to clear the gunk from my face, the touch of base and powder that we had to have, and then I was ready to leave. I pulled on my jacket and changed from shoes to boots. I’d walked here, and I was walking back.
“You heading to the Fairmont?” Justin asked from where he sat at the counter removing makeup.
“Yes. I’m walking. Thought I would clear my head, think about things.”
“Okay if I walk with you?”
My chest tightened. My libido did a dance. Hell, I would probably get a hard-on now.
“And me!” Ivan announced.
“I’ll do that,” Shauna added.
My cock settled back to sleep, like a hamster in a nest, foiled by the other contestants, all of whom wanted to walk over the grounds to the hotel as well. Why did no one drive anymore?
We set out, naturally falling into groups of two, but I was with Shauna, who was rambling on about jangling bells, and not with Justin, who was in deep conversation with Clare over something that must have been important the way she was clinging to his arm. She was doing that whole please don’t let me slip thing.
I was pissed I hadn’t thought of it first.
Chapter Seven
Pro tip – keep cake moist by eating it in one sitting
Justin
Clare gripped tight to my arm as we walked back to the hotel.
“So what ideas do you have for tomorrow?” I got the feeling that she wasn’t asking out of interest. I sensed a cold calculation in the question, and I wonder what she’d think if I told her I had no concepts in my head. So, as was usual in Justin-world, I winged it completely.
“I’m not entirely fixed on a final decision.” Fixed? Final? I didn’t have one idea, let alone several to choose from. The remit for the first round was to create twenty-four cupcakes, all exactly the same, embellished with the theme of general Christmas. I could bake cupcakes blindfolded, but whether I could make them crazy good like the other season’s winners was something else altogether. Typically for the beauty shoots I shared on social media, I had a chef or two at hand to fix whatever imperfections the camera would show, but here I was on my own. After cupcakes, it was the mystery challenge, set by the judges, both of whom were experts in the field, and it could be anything from making choux buns to creating the Eiffel Tower out of shortbread. We wouldn’t know until the very moment we pulled back the cream-colored sheet that would be covering the ingredients. Then of course there was the showpiece, the final bake to wow the judges, which could be the difference between staying and going.
“You’re so creative to have more than one,” Clare murmured, but to me, it sounded as if there was sarcasm in her tone. I genuinely wished that she wasn’t clinging to me like a limpet, in fact, I’d prefer it if Brody was the one holding my arm.
If he slipped I could catch him or let him fall into the snow and topple onto him, gently, and maybe we could sneak a kiss—or more.
“Not so much creative as still choosing the best direction,” I lied, but she wasn’t listening to me. She was turning back and looking at whoever was behind us.
“What about you guys?”
“Sorry?” I heard Brody ask, and I wanted to turn and listen to him explain how he was using kirsch, and how he was inspired by this or that, anything to watch him talk. I faced forward because I had to keep control of myself and try not to drool over the cake concept or the man.
“Ideas for tomorrow,” Clare prompted.
“I’m all in on silver,” Ivan replied. “But I’m on the lemon track for flavor.”
“Blue and lavender,” Kristen shouted from behind them, but I didn’t hear Shauna say anything. I swear she was going to cry when she was doing her introduction, and I wanted to hug her and tell her not to worry about things. Of course, I’d be lying because I was so worried about everything to do with this competition that I was a step away from hyperventilating myself.
“I’m thinking red velvet and gold to decorate,” Brody said.
I noticed no one was giving away their flavor profiles. Still, just from Brody’s simple explanation I could imagine some delicate filigree of gold on red and imagined Brody winning the whole competition. When it came to cupcakes, I only really had one idea, and that was a rose gold color for my decorations, maybe infusing the buttercream icing with a little rose water, not much because then it would taste like soap, but just enough to have a hint. As bakers, we had access to a ton of equipment, a room full of ingredients and equipment that we could use, and I was certain that in the supply area there would be something I could use. I could only hope that inspiration would hit me when I stepped inside the kitchen area.
“Oh,” Clare said. “Red velvet is what I’m doing.”
“Cool,” Brody mumbled. “May the best red velvet win.” He was laughing, but Clare just seemed irritated. How could she claim that only one person could do red velvet? It was a staple for bakers in this competition.
By the time I’d thought all that through, we were back at the hotel, and its portico was framed perfectly with the fresh snow. They’d begun to decorate for Halloween, which was at odds with the fact that we were filming a Christmas show, but then, this place wasn’t appearing in the show itself, just the convention center was given over to the show. Still, I would be taking a lot of photos, so I had to plan on what to include and what not to include. Probably the huge spider hanging over the doorway which made Clare stop in her tracks and tug me to a stop. She visibly shuddered, and then let go of my arm and hurried through, as her completely impractical high-heeled boots skidded on the wooden floor.
Kristen teased Ivan about the spider then they went inside with Brody. I just needed a moment, standing under the huge fake spider and catching my breath. Sometimes rooms closed in on me. On occasion, I couldn’t separate the noise and the chaos of life and I ended up overwhelmed, and it was happening now.
“Coffee?” Brody asked from behind me then came to stand at my side, holding two coffee mugs and passing one to me. “Black, but I have creamer and sugar.”
“Thank you, black is good.”
We sipped our coffees, our hot breath turning the air white, and it seemed as if he had something to say from the way he kept glancing over at me from under his lashes.
“Are you excited?” he asked.
“About the competition? Yeah. Nervous.”
“Me too.”
He lifted his cup in salute, and we toasted to our nerves.
We separated to go to our rooms, and it was with the promise we’d meet in the bar for a drink in an hour and then eat dinner. I went to my suite on the top floor. Thankfully the rest of the contestants were scattered all over, and I was happy with that. I didn’t want the other guys randomly knocking on my door, asking me questions or demanding I tell them my plans for the cupcakes when I had no plans to share, and as soon as I shut myself in I was hap
py to be alone.
For someone who has millions of people watching their every move, I prefer my own company. I’d been used to looking after myself, found my own ways of dealing with life, and to get someone else involved at any point would mess with my head. So why did you say yes to coffee? It’s just coffee, not a sweeping love affair with Olympic style sex. Although random sex with Brody wouldn’t go amiss. In fact, if I closed my eyes I could think of his eyes, and his body, and…
His snowman sweater.
His ridiculously cute snowman sweater with the floppy carrot, and the scarf that puffed out under it.
Not that I’d been staring.
My cellphone vibrated and I casually looked at the notification, hoping it would be something I could ignore, but seeing Erin’s name at the top I knew I had to at least acknowledge it. I know she was somewhere in this hotel, and that she probably knew exactly what suite I was in.
ROI down, shoot some inside footage. Nice car vid.
I had a shop, selling aprons with my name on, bakeware, even packed ingredients to make the perfect cakes, I sold chocolate, candy, blowtorches for meringue, plates, cups, posters—if it was something that was even tangentially connected to baking it had my name on it. ROI, or return on investment, was just another term for how much advertising cost against what I was earning, but it had become so much more than that to me. It was a measure I had to watch to know how I was doing, and it used to be I’d watch the ads and how they ran, checking them every hour, sometimes more, desperate for the money to outweigh the cost of making the ads. Now I had a guy who did this for me. He was part of Erin’s team. A quiet focused man with huge complicated spreadsheets that calculated what I was worth to my company at any given moment. The formula was simple. I go live on Insta or make a video for any platform that would have me, and I made money.
