by Donna Allen
“I’m out of here. We may as well say our goodbyes now. I don’t want to see you after the cook-off.”
“You’re not going until you tell me what your sudden change of heart is all about.” He put his hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off.
“Why don’t you ask your precious Valerie?” Cassidy was not prone to jealousy, and she didn’t like the words that had just come out of her mouth.
“Valerie? What’s she got to do with us?” Dante scratched his head. “You’re not making any sense. You’re tired. We both are.”
Cassidy clenched her teeth and the words snarled out.
“She filled me in. You made a heavy-duty decision about losing tomorrow without considering how it would make me feel. I wouldn’t have thought it a good idea even for a second.”
“But, Cassidy, I did it for you. Can you imagine how incredible your life will be if you win? You’d get your own cookbook and lots of celebrity cooking engagements.”
“Coming first doesn’t mean I win.” Anger made Cassidy wide awake. “It means I’ve been manipulated. Besides, you don’t think I know about your own show if you throw the match?”
“Cassidy.” He reached for her hands and squeezed them. She extricated herself from them and ignored the wounded look in his eyes. “I entered this competition to get back the social reputation Carlos branded me with. I needed a large audience to help me and I have achieved my goal. They never would have let me win because of my food sources, so better you than someone else who doesn’t deserve it.”
“So I win at what cost?” she responded drily. “So I can lose you to that female dragon? So you can have that stupid show together?”
“There’s no way I would have ever considered another show with the dragon for more than five seconds. I’ve got to admit, the show’s premise was enticing.” His lips twitched into a hint of a smile. “But I said no.”
Cassidy put her hands on her hips. “Promise?”
“Promise. The decision I made to let you win was to secure your future, and I made it before she dangled that carrot. Let me help you get ahead. I want to.”
“Help me? It might work in your world to decide what you think is best for others, but not in mine. You’re a control freak, and after tomorrow, I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“It was never my intention to cause you distress.” Dante’s voice was low and deep. “It didn’t occur to me that my decision would hurt you in any way. I thought winning the competition would give you everything you ever wanted.”
“You really don’t know me at all, do you?”
Dante moved closer and squeezed her shoulder. She wanted to believe him that Valerie had lied. She wanted to move closer to him, have him hold out his arms so she could bury herself into his chest. But right now, she needed to get away from the smoke. It made the air around her feel stale, suffocating.
“I know you,” Dante said, his hand moving down her shoulder and stroking her arm. “I know your kooky laugh. I know you can’t keep your feet still when you are waiting for a lucky guinea pig to try one of your foodie experiments. I know you take forever to brush your teeth but don’t floss. I know…”
Cassidy shook her head. “You know everything about nothing. Do you know what I’m trying to achieve in this competition?”
She watched his dark eyes searching hers with an intensity that burned. “You want to win.”
“Yes, but the reasons behind why I want to win are more important than a trophy or a radiant smile I can give to the camera every week aimed at viewers I’ve never met.”
“You’re being cryptic.” Dante smiled. “Let’s get through tomorrow and then we can talk about us. I need you, Cassidy. I’m crazy about you.”
“But you don’t think I have a chance cooking against you without rigging the results. I need a man who believes in me.” Cassidy shook her head as she left the kitchen. “There is no us. Perhaps there never was.”
* * * *
Cassidy changed into the chef’s outfit that had been delivered to her door from the producers. Black pants, black jacket, black apron.
They’ve got to be kidding.
She’d told them she never wore all black, not when there were so many colors to choose from to lift her spirits. She stripped down to her bra and knickers and reached for the outfit Dante had given her that she’d worn in the past with so much joy.
No.
She threw it onto the floor of her small wardrobe and pulled on a white T-shirt with a peace symbol and the words “Make Coffee, Not War.” She slipped on a pair of faded jeans. They weren’t going to get her to wear funeral black without a fight. She did, however, put on sensible shoes. Grabbing the knives she’d recently finished sharpening, she was as ready as she was ever going to be.
Things were very quiet now that the other competitors had gone home to their loved ones. She knew they’d been invited to be in the audience, along with many industry professionals, and it was a no-brainer they would be barracking for Dante.
Dante was already setting up, and he indicated for her to come and join him. He tried to kiss her on the cheek, but she pulled away.
Dante pulled her back. “Please tell me what the real problem is.”
She wanted to close the distance between them, but she couldn’t. Otherwise, he’d never understand, and she’d always be on the periphery of his life.
“Dante, all I ever had in my life was Dad’s café. When he died, I tried to keep him alive by making it the best café in Fremantle. I was always looking for ways to make it better, which is why I entered this darned competition. I needed the prize money.”
“I know that.” Dante nodded, encouraging her to go on.
“I know there was the fire, but it stopped being about that. It started to be about me. I felt special and believed I had some cooking talent. I made it to the finals on my own merits. You took that away from me in a heartbeat and made me feel worthless.”
Dante inhaled and held his breath a moment, as if he were measuring his words to come. “That wasn’t my intention. You have a unique gift and the audiences are going to love you.”
“Would you say this is a fair competition, Dante?”
“Yes…no…maybe. Depends how you want to look at it, I suppose.”
“Okay, I’ll rephrase it.” Cassidy’s voice wavered slightly. “Are you planning on cooking your best today, or are you going to cook to less than your usual standard to make sure I win?”
“Yes, but…no. But it’s all for you.”
“Dante, no! I can’t believe you’ve done this to me.”
She walked away from him and started to set up her equipment. She looked at the oversized clock on the wall and could tell they only had a few more minutes to set up before the madness began. She had to calm her mind, focus. If her heartbeat didn’t shut up, she wouldn’t be cooking anything today.
Dante followed her and reached for her hand. “Cassidy, wait.”
She pulled it back. “Wait for what? More sensationalism to come out about the conversation we’re having now? You let me come back based on a lie. I cared about you. I’m an idiot.”
“You use cared for me in the past tense.” Dante’s voice sounded strained. “I care for you very much, Cassidy. More than you’ll ever know. What can I do to make you believe that?”
A voice over the loud speaker shouted for them to get into position. The now-familiar TV jingle was played to get them in the spirit.
“Not that I believe you,” Cassidy said, “but if you care for me, you’ll do what means a lot to me.”
“I’d do anything for you. Name it.”
“Do everything you can to win. All I’m asking of you is you do your best, and so will I. Then, if by some miracle I do beat you, it will be on my own merits and not because of the betrayal of a patronizing competitor I thought I could trust.”
Dante closed his eyes and frown lines etched his forehead. He opened them again and looked directly into hers. Then he n
odded.
Noisy high heels announced the arrival of Valerie. She stood in front of the cameras, fluffed her hair, and pouted. The studio became quiet as everyone watched the cameraman count down from ten to one. For the last three seconds, he used his fingers instead of his voice.
“Good evening,” Valerie said, “and welcome to the grand finale, featuring our dashing Dante and our lovable Cassidy. Who will win? The perfectionist chef or the talented foodie?”
Valerie walked toward Cassidy and held the microphone at an unattractive angle, just under Cassidy’s nose.
“So, Cassidy, how are you feeling tonight? Are you ready to cook up a storm?”
Cassidy ignored the fact it was morning, as she was supposed to. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Valerie. Hopefully I’ll be able to do something with this nervous energy.”
“We can’t wait to see what you have in store for us. I’m sure it will be very different—chocolate-covered grasshoppers?”
“Sounds interesting, but I’m not sure about that.”
Cassidy started to fidget with her utensils.
“I can see you’re raring to go. Good luck,” Valerie said as she walked toward Dante.
“So, what do you think, Dante? Is the amateur cook making you nervous?”
Dante held his hands up in the air in a charming fashion. “My competitor is a lot of things when it comes to adventurous cooking, but the word ‘amateur’ doesn’t belong in her cooking repertoire.”
“So you think she’s going to give you a run for your money? I’ve heard the betting odds are only slightly in your favor.”
Dante stood tall. He took a knife out of its holder and sharpened it with practiced speed. “I’m here to win,” he said.
*
As Valerie welcomed the other judges—three times because they weren’t happy with the first two takes—Dante was pleased to see the ousted competitors had all been invited back to watch. As each chef entered, enthusiastic applause followed before they took their seats. Dante pondered how Cassidy had found out he’d been willing to forfeit his place in the competition for her. It didn’t take too much imagination to come up with the answer. That damned Valerie. It was so difficult being nice to her for the cameras when he knew what havoc she’d caused him with Cassidy. He could see how the idea of the new show must have looked to Cassidy, and he wanted the chance to prove to her he had no intention of taking it.
Valerie smiled at both of them, swinging her arms around expansively. “We have a surprise for you. Watch those doors.”
The annoying jingle played again, “You’re hot when you’re hot, cooking with fire, dry ice in the pot…”
The doors opened and Dante’s sister, Sophia, appeared. He felt the sibling love in abundance when she ran to him and he squeezed her tight.
“Mio tesoro, it’s so good to see you.”
“What’s going on? You getting soft on me?” Sophia kissed both his cheeks. “No asking about the restaurant?”
The doors swung open again and a small crowd of people came racing in. Like a swarm of bees, they moved as one toward Cassidy. She managed to give equal time to each one of them, even though she only had half a minute, as they were guided to their seats.
“Who are all these people, Cassidy?”
Valerie looked pointedly at Dante and then back at Cassidy. It was obvious to him she’d ensured Cassidy would have twenty people supporting her to his one. But her ruse wasn’t going to make him cook badly. He still had a lot of support from the other chefs.
What he hadn’t been prepared for, however, was the true support Cassidy was getting from the loved ones around her. As well as her beloved family she’d risked the competition for, she had several close friends, and probably regular customers, too. What had happened to all his regulars? Had they been invited? He’d lost a lot of friends when he’d decided to dedicate most of his spare time to his cause. They’d told him they were sick of him looking in their fridges and pantries whenever he visited to make sure they were buying the right products.
Over the top. Those were the words thrown around the most, before his invitations to their homes and restaurants had ceased altogether. He had an admirable social life now, and being a celebrity had opened many doors for him, but many people he’d cared for along the way had closed theirs.
Cassidy was laughing, crying, jumping for joy. He was sure he looked as interesting to the viewers as a loaf of stale bread by comparison. Valerie had managed to squash his previous popularity in less than half a minute. He turned his attention back to his sister.
“They told me I couldn’t bring anyone else,” Sophia said. “They wouldn’t even let me bring the kids. What are they playing at? Bastardi.” She looked at Cassidy. “She looks like the type of person I’d like to get to know.”
Dante thought about his cousin and how he had tried to ruin everything, using Cassidy as collateral damage. He must have wanted to win this with a passion that was unhealthy. He never had played fair, even when they were kids and it was excusable. Looking good or looking bad, that was all that had ever been important to him. Come to think of it, he and Valerie would make a good pair.
“Thank you, everyone, you’re a great audience,” Valerie said into her handheld microphone. She swung around to speak to Dante and Cassidy. “Today you will cook a three-course meal, using the same key ingredient for each course.”
Dante looked at Cassidy, who refused to look back at him.
Valerie had a large covered bowl in front of her.
“The ingredient you must use in every course is…”
She paused theatrically for longer than necessary, no doubt following Eric’s instructions in her earpiece. Dante concluded it had been set up for a commercial break. Valerie caressed the silky cover seductively and whipped it off to reveal a bowl of vivid yellow and green fruits of varying size.
“Citrus!”
Excellent, Dante thought as he juggled in his mind several combinations of citrus dishes that would complement each other seamlessly.
“Are you ready for an exciting cook-off, people?” Valerie said. The audience went wild. “Your time starts…” Everyone watched the second hand on the clock. “…now!”
Cassidy and Dante raced to the walk-in refrigerated larder and reached the door at the same time. Dante opened it.
“After you,” he said.
There wasn’t any time for discussion as they grabbed their baskets and started to pile them high with ingredients. They would only get one shot at this, so concentration was paramount.
Dante thought of the ingredients of each dish as he stacked them in his basket. Cassidy was less methodical and ran around in her usual excitable fashion, calling out everything she was picking up as if checking them off a list.
Pleased with himself, Dante had everything he needed and went to leave the food room, when Cassidy called after him.
His heart did a tango.
“Yes?”
“Forget something?”
He looked through his basket and double-checked everything. “I don’t think so.”
Cassidy held up a lemon.
He slapped his forehead and felt like an idiot. He’d forgotten the blasted key ingredient. He gave her an embarrassed smile and packed as many of them as he could fit around the rest of his items.
“That’s all the mentoring you’re going to get from me, Mr. Cristiani.”
“It was very much appreciated, Miss Summers,” Dante said. “Would you like advice from me in return?”
“If you must.”
“Take no prisoners. I won’t be taking any.”
“Let the games begin,” Cassidy responded and she skipped, actually skipped, back to her workbench.
Before Dante unpacked his ingredients, he put a heavy grill pan on the stove to heat up.
“Think in advance of what you’ll be cooking, Cassidy,” he called out. “If you need the deep fryer, you need to put the oil on now, it takes a long time to heat up.”
Cassidy filled a large pot of water and placed it on the stove to boil. The audience applause was deafening.
Dante was right at home cooking in front of an audience, and he was able to talk to the judges about what he was preparing whilst slicing, chopping, and cooking. He knew Cassidy would lose valuable time speaking to them because she needed to concentrate, and when she was distracted, it took her a while to get back to what she was doing.
He stole a glance at her cooking technique. She’d already toppled a bowl of parsley onto the ground and her cooking area was a combat zone. The cameramen were having a field day filming the dirty dishes she was piling up in front of the bench to get them out of her way.
Judging was on a course-by-course basis, and time passed quickly.
Dante beat Cassidy with his starter of caramelized pan-fried scallops with lemon and coriander.
She later upped the stakes when she served her main course of tequila-lime chicken, resulting in a real crowd-pleaser.
Dante was no longer interested in letting her win. He was going to make a dessert to rock everyone’s culinary world, and he knew just the recipe that was going to do it.
He’d perfected it. Exactly the right amount of lime juice and zest, great consistency. Light as air. He could’ve made it with his eyes closed.
“How are you doing over there, Dante?”
“I think you might be in trouble, bella. My dessert is going to be bellisima!” He put his index finger and thumb to his lips and made a loud kissing noise.
“Don’t be so sure. My dessert is awesome.”
Following Dante’s lead, she brought both palms to her lips simultaneously and kissed them in loud smacking noises. The audience went wild.
“Just remember what we’ve talked about before,” Dante called out. “Keep it simple…”
“…and let the ingredients tell the story. I remember. Now stop talking to me, I’m trying to cook, and I can’t do two things at once!” Cassidy giggled and the whole studio laughed with her, Dante included.
