by Valley Sams
Sometimes it was worth it to be unimaginably wealthy, even if Mac would never admit it to herself. Or anyone else for that matter.
“Well, look at what we have here,” a voice croaked from behind them. Almost before they heard her, they smelled her. A mixture of incense, unwashed clothes and smoke – it was Cheryl.
She stood behind them, admiring the display. She was wearing a chunky, orange knit poncho that clashed horribly with the almost neon henna disaster on her head. The same dirty sneakers poked out from the hem of her embroidered skirt.
Mac fought to suppress a sneer and lost.
“Cheryl, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“You promised me free chocolates. I came for the free chocolates,” she said. “Quite the to do, isn’t it? I knew this town was rolling in it. You guys look like the fanciest of them all.”
Mac felt herself blush. She had been so busy trying to make Sabrina happy that she hadn’t considered how her grandiose display was going to look compared to the others. She looked around quickly at the other booths. Although they were all well done, hers was the only one that almost scraped the ceiling.
“I guess it is a bit much,” Mac mumbled, more to herself than anything.
The Brie blanket that was covering her squeezed her harder.
“It’s amazing. You are amazing,” Brie said.
“Some good looking chocolates around here, too,” Cheryl said. “Those yours over there?” She practically licked her hard little lips as she peered past the girls to the glittering display Brie had set up.
Sabrina smiled again with that infectious, toothy grin.
“They are and yes…I did promise you a taste, didn’t I? Can’t have someone saying black bean brownies are any better.”
Cheryl, completely humorless, glared at Brie. She was obviously insulted.
“You don’t know. You’ve never had them. I’ll be the judge of whether or not they’re any better.”
“Speaking of judges.” Mac had been distracted during the exchange. While she had been scanning the other booth designs, she had noticed the notorious Benson Bevacqua making his way up to the raised judges platform. Cheryl and Brie had been too busy with the great black bean brownie debate to notice him shuffle past.
The zombie girl he had been chatting up earlier was practically holding him up as he made his way down the row of booths. Beads of sweat patterned his face like pockmarks and great rivulets streamed down his freckled cheeks. He had removed his hat and was clutching it with hands that were obviously shaking. Although he was attempting to seem sober, Mac could tell by the way his eyes practically rolled in his head that he was barely maintaining his decorum. How much had he been drinking?
“You’re right, Brie. That man doesn’t look like he’s in any shape do to anything, let alone judge a competition.”
Brie turned from Cheryl to watch Bevacqua’s back as he limped toward the stage. He seemed to be having trouble lifting his feet off the ground and clung to the zombie girl like a life preserver.
Sabrina snorted wryly.
“Exactly, like I said. But he’ll get away with it. That kind of power and that kind of reputation? Everyone is probably too afraid of him to say anything.”
“Is he drunk? It looks like he’s drunk.” Cheryl said, a little too loud for Mac’s comfort.
“We saw him drinking earlier.” Brie said, “Probably the only way he can live with himself is by staying loaded. You know how many perfectly good careers he has ended with that stupid column of his? He’s shut down entire factories. Literally destroyed people with a sentence or two.”
It was Cheryl’s turn to snort.
“Might as well kiss your career good bye then. Maybe I’ll be moving into your shop in a few weeks.” She chuckled, watching Brie and Mac for a reaction.
She got one. Brie’s fists clenched.
“You’ve got a lot to say for someone sniffing around for free samples,” Brie practically spat at the woman, her patience having finally come to an end.
Cheryl opened her mouth to say something nasty back but was interrupted by the sound of a microphone buzzing to life from the speakers.
“Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen to Mackenzie Bay’s first annual International Chocolate Fair and Competition.” The MC, a radio host at the town’s only station, was dressed as a giant black spider. His costume was complete with eight furry legs that bounced as he held the microphone to his mouth. He waited for the polite applause from the crowd to dull down.
Thankfully, Cheryl seemed to get the hint and she thumped off, her hooked nose sniffing out whatever goodies she could get.
“Looks like it he made it up to his seat alright,” Brie grumbled. Benson was seated to the side of the spider MC, mopping his face with a napkin. Was it the lighting or was he actually that green?
“We are all so honored to have with us three of the most celebrated critics in the chocolate industry. Accomplished chocolatiers in their own right, our distinguished panel represents the most sophisticated palates and discerning tastes in the country.” As the MC became more wrapped up in his speech, his many legs began to bounce furiously in the faces of both Benson and the judge seated to his left. “Our first judge needs no introduction. As professionals in your own right, you all know him as the most demanding judge in the industry, Benson Bevacqua.”
Benson raised the handkerchief weakly and attempted to stand as the crowd applauded him. It was not the most enthusiastic applause Mac had ever heard. If clapping could sound begrudging….
When the spider turned to face Benson and elaborate further on his accolades and accomplishments, the face of the judge on the other side of him was no longer partially concealed by his fuzzy legs.
Mac was a little taken aback, despite herself.
“Who…?” She began.
“That’s Samuel Campbell, the man who should be the big wheel.” Brie caught Mac’s shocked gaze. “I know,” she whispered, “he had a terrible car accident. Had to get skin grafts and everything.”
Mac’s hand flew to her mouth with embarrassment. “I honestly thought it was a Halloween mask.” she said beneath her breath.
“Right? It looks like one.”
The entire right side of Campbell’s face was a puckered map of glossy scarring. His mouth was some doctor’s lumpy attempt at rebuilding his lost lips and his right eye was equally awkward. He had attempted to cover where he was bald with an elaborate comb over that was almost the same strawberry shade as his damaged skin. Unlike Benson however, his posture was immaculate and he waved to the crowd with confidence when he was introduced. The applause for him was much, much more enthusiastic.
“He’s one of those people I was telling you about, those that Benson pretty much destroyed.”
Brie was about to divulge more when the MC raised his volume like an annoyed teacher. Apparently their whispering had not been quiet enough. Brie snapped her mouth shut, embarrassed.
“We are also fortunate to have with us the country’s foremost food writer and host of both the Food Channel’s “Save Room for Dessert”, and Classic Entertaining”, the lovely Miss Brenda Davies.”
The audience went wild with applause. This wasn’t a surprise. Most of Mackenzie Bay was stocked with the kind of people with the income to make their daily existence as much like a lifestyle magazine as possible.
Brenda stood up and did the perfect pageant wave, her Pilates toned arms making graceful curves in the air. Her hair, the color that launched a million salon visits, was a glowing gold under the lights. It was definitely not the lighting making Benson seem green, Mac thought.
“Now is the time that we ask the competitors to please return to their booths. The judges are ready to start making the rounds. Remember, you will be graded on creativity, taste and presentation. May the best chocolatier win.”
It was Brie’s turn to go slightly green.
“Oh my god, I’m nervous,” Sabrina said, clutching her stomach. “Why did we get a booth so close t
o the stage? We’re going to be, like, the third person they judge!”
Mac grabbed her friend by the arm and practically dragged her behind their elaborate set up.
“Perfect,” Mac said. “They’ll get to you before their taste buds shut down. Come on Tiger, let’s get in position.”
****
Benson’s hand was trembling even worse as he lifted the truffle to his mouth. The judges were at the booth next to the girls and they watched, just like the rest of the room, barely breathing as he took a bite.
Almost immediately, he dropped his sweaty lips open and caught the half chewed, dripping bite in his palm.
“What is this?” He looked at the two men behind the booth, holding the brown mound practically under their noses. The men clung to each other, frozen in Benson’s steely gaze. “Tell me what I just put in my mouth.”
“It’s…” The hall was silent and the taller of the two cleared his throat noisily, “It’s a pumpkin whiskey cream.”
Benson grunted and tossed the half eaten truffle into the garbage can between the displays.
“It’s pumpkin whiskey misery is what is it. What…” He dabbed at his sopping forehead again, every one of his freckles practically glowing on his pale face. “What on earth would possess you to torture me with such a disgusting flavor? Did you even taste it? Did you?” The men didn’t speak. They were obviously praying it was a rhetorical question. Benson raised his voice, “Well, did you??”
“Yes, yes of course we did.”
“You’re killing me with this. It tastes like rotten squash and the smell of some drunk’s breath. Repulsive.”
He didn’t seem to be in any position to be judging a drunk’s breath. He was close enough now for the girls to see the way that his shirt had become almost transparent with his own perspiration. He had tried to button up his jacket to cover it, but it was still visible.
Mac silently took Brie’s hand in her own as Benson moved back, unsteadily, to allow the other judges to taste it.
Samuel Campbell was next. Although obviously disfigured, he carried himself with a distinct elegance. He practically floated up to the booth and took one of the maligned truffles with his perfectly manicured fingers. He raised it to what stood for his nose and took a deep breath in. It was such an impressive inhale that the girls could see his bow tie strain against his neck. His eyes closed and he seemed to swirl the smell in his sinuses, as if he were tasting wine.
“Excellent first nose,” he said. Mac was shocked to hear such a sweet, mellow voice come out of his mouth.
With great elegance, he took a bite from the chocolate. As he slowly chewed, he held those nimble fingers away from him, completely wrapped up in the flavor.
The bowtie bulged again as he swallowed.
“Creamy pumpkin tones enhanced by the slightest, spicy depth of the whiskey.”
His eyes opened and he attempted a smile at the two, terrified men in front of him.
“Excellent work, boys.” The sigh of relief from the men was almost as loud as Benson’s disapproving grunt. He had been staring at his shoes the whole time and didn’t bother to look up long enough to see the withering look Mr. Campbell gave him. If Mac wasn’t mistaken, she saw a pure hatred there. It appeared that Sabrina wasn’t the only one with strong opinions about this man.
Brenda was next. She maneuvered her frame, far too thin to belong to any reputable cook, between the other two critics. She smiled, flashing what must have been close to fifty thousand dollars of veneers.
“Well, I have to say, it sure sounds delicious.” She spoke with a southern accent, and at a loud enough volume to ensure that her audience caught the full import of her charms. “You boys have worked awful hard, I can tell.” She winked at the two of them, wiggling about a little in her tight, shift dress.
Her charms were working and the two men visibly relaxed. “Let’s give this baby a shot, shall we?” she cooed as she popped the chocolate in her mouth. Unlike Samuel, she kept her eyes open and glued on the men as she chewed. To Mac it seemed like an elaborate seduction, an insincere one but a seduction nonetheless. Even the men looked uncomfortable. Of course the fact that they were the town’s favorite and most outwardly gay couple didn’t help her attempts to charm them.
“Well,” she said, after her show was over, “that was just lovely. I don’t know what that big old’ grump was talking about. You boys sure know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
Benson grunted again, and with what looked like a herculean effort began to make his way next door to where Mac and Brie stood, just as terrified as the rest of the competitors.
Suddenly, and at the worst possible moment, Mac’s phone began to buzz under the booth counter. It vibrated against the wood, demanding her attention.
“Don’t you dare pick that up,” Brie warned. “Don’t even think about it…”
The judges stood directly in front of the booth, silently surveying the display while scribbling on their clipboards. Except for Benson, of course. He seemed to be more preoccupied with catching his breath.
The phone continued. She could ignore it. Of course she could. She wasn’t a slave to her…
“Just hang on.” Mac said. She let go of Brie’s hand.
“Don’t leave me with this monster!!” Brie panicked and her attempts at a whisper failed. All three of the judges glared at her at once and she wished for probably the five hundredth time in her life that the ground would swallow her up.
“I’ll just see who it is.” Mac had already dived under the booth to grab her phone. Sabrina was on her own.
Mac was fully prepared to punch the ‘dismiss’ button but froze when Louis’ name glowed up at her on the call display. She was helpless, as usual. The man that makes time stop. The only man with the power to mess with Mac’s priorities. She needed to get a handle on that before she transformed into the kind of giggling, pie-eyed girl she had always hated.
Later. She’d get a handle on it later.
Crouched like a frightened dog, Mac slipped out of the booth and toward the back of the hall before answering the call.
“Brie is just about to be judged.” Mac was too excited to bother with telephone etiquette. “You should see this one judge, he’s absolutely awful.”
Her eyes still on Brie, she watched as the two other judges picked up one of the black cat chocolates and examined them.
“It’s ruthless. You’d think for a small town chocolate competition it would be a little more friendly.”
“Remember where we are.” Louis said. “Mackenzie Bay is not exactly small town America.” His voice was as warm as ever, but it sounded distracted.
“I suppose you’re right. Playground of the ‘one percent’ isn’t that what you called it?”
“Absolutely. Look Mac, I just overheard something on the office radio. We’ve got a few patrol cars down by your shop. There’s been a break in, I’m not sure where yet, but one of the shops has been pilfered, I’m afraid. I wanted you to know…”
There was a pause while Louis waited for Mac to react. There was nothing but silence.
“Mac? You still there?” Mac was moving rapidly back towards the display, her heart beating heavy in her throat. She had heard Louis mention something about a robbery and she knew she should be nervous, but what was happening at Brie’s booth was much more alarming.
It had been Benson’s turn to taste his chocolate. Somewhere between the ‘one percent’ comment and the patrol cars, Benson had turned a horrific shade of white and began to clutch at his throat. His entire impressive bulk suddenly fell forward, like a warehouse size bag of potatoes thrown onto Brie’s display.
She could hear Louis calling her name on the phone, but it was drowned out by the screams of shock coming from both Sabrina and Brenda. There was a loud thump as his head hit the booth counter and then another as he fell backwards, his glistening body convulsing on the floor.
Mac broke into a run.
“Someone call 911.” Samuel
yelled, his one good eye bright with horror. He was immediately at Benson’s side, tearing open his jacket and checking his pulse. “My god, he’s not breathing.”
There were more screams from the crowd now and people were coming out from behind their booths to stand in a breathless circle around Benson’s now limp body.
“Mackenzie! What’s going on!” Louis, now yelling into the phone, was finally loud enough for Mac to notice. She raised the phone to her ear with trembling hands.
“It’s one of the judges. Oh my god, Louis. He’s not breathing. He’s seizing terribly. It’s like his back is going to crack in half…”
