Taste Test (27 page)

“No, that’s okay, I’ll go back.” She exhales, looking a little relieved. “What’s with the bouncers? Did you think I was going to throw a fit and have to be restrained or something?”

Benny laughs.

“Nah, we just needed their muscle to disconnect the computers and TVs in your rooms.”

“You can’t be serious,” I groan.

“No Internet or television access allowed while you’re prepping for the finale.”

“I’m assuming a petition against this signed by the two of us isn’t going to sway you?”

“Nope. Step aside, ladies, so we can let these guys do their jobs.”

An hour later, I’m sitting in a deserted room. No computer, no TV, and no Gigi. And all of it happened so fast, I didn’t even get a chance to talk to her again. She walked away from the room with an eggcrate of her stuff and a depressed look on her face. I could throttle Christian for making her feel so guilty.

Before he left, Benny handed me a packet of information about the hours leading up to the final challenge. There’s the Tools of the Trade final exam at 8 a.m., then a TV appearance as well as photo shoots and interviews. The remainder of my exams are back-to-back throughout the afternoon. I want to groan. The only good thing about getting eliminated is that you get to skip the finals entirely.

I scan over the rest of the packet. Other than tomorrow’s interview, the three contestants can’t see each other at all, at least not without being monitored. Starting at midnight, if we want to talk to a fellow contestant, it needs to go through production and be approved first. And we’ll have to have a chaperone.

I glance at the clock. I’ve still got a few more minutes of freedom.

I pull on my slippers and a hoodie before padding down the hall. When he answers the door, Christian’s wearing nothing but boxers and a sleepy smile.

“Well, well. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His smile falters a little bit, though, when he sees my expression. He rolls his eyes as I shade my eyes and he steps aside to let me in.

“Lemme guess—I have something to apologize for. Again.”

“You know, you really made Gigi feel awful at Elimination Table,” I say, still covering my eyes.

“She
should
feel awful. Her food had nothing, NOTHING on Pierce’s. It’s totally ridiculous that she gets to stay over him.”

“And who are you to second-guess the judges? How hypocritical can you get? I don’t see you questioning their opinions when you
win
a challenge.”

“Nora, can you honestly say that you think Gigi’s dish was better than Pierce’s?”

“I didn’t taste either of them. Neither did you—you can’t make that assumption based solely on looks.”

“I’m not basing it on looks—I’m basing it on sophistication, on level of difficulty.”

“It’s not easy to cook a great burger.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. And can you please put some clothes on?!”

Christian sits down on his bed and yanks a T-shirt over his head.

“Look, I
am
sorry if Gigi’s feelings are hurt. But, that doesn’t mean she deserves to be here.”

“Oh, how big of you. I’m sure that will make her feel
so
much better.”

“Why are you defending her, anyway?” he asks. “She’s your competition, just like I am.”

“Yeah, but she’s also my friend, which
you
are
not
.”

He gives a smug smile. “Finally admitting we’re more than friends, I see.”

“You’re unbelievable. I’m leaving.”

He flops back on his bed. “I know it’s going to be hard for you not to just drop in on me anymore—I’m glad you managed to get your fix tonight.”

I snort. “Right. See you whenever—emphasis on ‘never.’ ”

But “never” ends up being at our
Good Day Today
interview the next morning. Deanna Fisher, one of the hosts, drove up from the city to talk to us, and the crew has transformed the conference room into a lounge where all of us sit, sipping sparkling water in fancy glasses and trying to look relaxed.

“Nora and Gigi.”

Deanna Fisher gives us a gleaming smile. I try not to squint. I think her teeth might actually be their own light source. She’d be good to have around during an emergency.

“You two seem as though you’re the best of friends on the show. Is that friendship real?”

I nod. “Of course it’s real.”

I look over at Gigi. She’s staring down at her hands.

Deanna pounces, giving an encouraging, if not eager, smile.

“Gigi, you seem particularly quiet this morning. Is something bothering you?”

Gigi finally looks up, glancing around as though she just realized where she was.

“What? I mean, no. I mean, yes, everything’s fine.”

Deanna raises an eyebrow before turning to Christian.

“And Christian, you made it clear at last night’s Elimination that you don’t think Gigi deserves to be in the competition—at least not when compared to Pierce Johnson. Can you tell us why?”

Christian leans back in his chair. “You know, Deanna, I don’t want to dwell on the past. Let’s just move on to the future—and that’s the finale.”

“Of course,” she responds smoothly, giving the three of us a saccharine smile. “Speaking of which, I spoke with some of the producers of the show this morning and they have a little surprise they’d like me to share with you.”

Oh, God. What now?

From behind a curtained-off area, Holden Prescott walks out in front of us, smiling like he’s won the competition himself. I freeze. I see Gigi tense up in her chair. Even Christian looks shocked. Prescott holds out a hand to Deanna and she takes it.

“Chef Prescott,” she sort of purrs, “the finalists are clearly surprised by your appearance this morning.”

Wow, nothing gets past you, Deanna. What tipped you off?

“After all the rumors, the accusations,” she continues, lowering her voice for dramatic effect, “can you explain to us exactly what happened on the set of
Taste Test
? How
did
those contestants get hurt, anyway?”

Prescott smiles at her.

“Well, unfortunately, no, I can’t explain that to you. That’s because, as I’ve maintained since the accidents occurred, I’m completely innocent. And I’m here today because, after an extensive investigation by the network and the police, I’ve been cleared of all charges.”

I almost choke on the water I’m sipping.

“So,” Prescott continues, “the producers wanted me to come here this morning to let everyone know, including the contestants, that I will be returning to judge the season five finale.
And, let me just say, Deanna, I can’t wait to be part of the show again!”

I cross my arms and try to stay calm while I watch Prescott flirt with Deanna. But I can’t help it—I’m fuming. I think of Angela, at home, missing out on the chance to be here. I think of Joy, still lying in a hospital bed. Christian was right about one thing—this place
is
completely corrupt.

I don’t know what strings he pulled or what he has to gain from all this, but one thing is absolutely certain—Holden Prescott is the furthest thing from innocent. And I’m going to have to be the one to prove it, once and for all. Just as soon as this finale is over, Prescott’s going down.

Contestant Interview

Giada “Gigi” Orsoni

Producer (P):
     You seem a little tense. A little off-balance. Is that a fair assessment?

Giada “Gigi” Orsoni (GO):
     Probably.

P:
     You’re nervous about this whole thing?

GO:
     [glaring] Are you kidding? Of course I’m nervous. I’m terrified.

P:
     There’s no need for you to be this unraveled, Gigi. You made it into the finals! You are just as good as Nora or Christian—the judges believe you’re a competitor to be reckoned with!

GO:
     [shrugging] Whatever.

P:
     Gigi, one would expect that, in your position, you might be a little less hostile.

GO:
     My position? MY position? Trust me—you know absolutely nothing about
my
position.

P:
     I’ve been producing this show since the beginning. I think I have a pretty good idea.

GO:
     [shakes her head] That’s not what I mean.

P:
     Most people seem at least a
little
excited about competing in the finale—not so sullen and moody.

GO:
     [snaps] Well, I’m so sorry to disappoint you. [gets up] I guess I’m not “most people.”

Chapter Eighteen

Fool Me Once? Shame On You.

Kathryn Svincek beams as Christian, Gigi, and I take the floor.

“Welcome, competitors! And congratulations on making it to the season five finale of
Taste Test
!”

I think I might pee my pants. Next to me, I can see Gigi’s hands trembling. Of course, Christian looks as relaxed as ever. I really think he might be taking sedatives.

“We’ll begin filming in just a few minutes. Before then, please look over your station and make sure that you have everything you need. If anything is missing, let one of the production assistants know immediately.”

I guess they’ve decided now, for liability’s sake, that we need to inspect our own kitchens. That way, when one of us catapults across the room from a pressure cooker malfunction, we have no one to blame but ourselves.

Just a little sabotage humor—I’ve got to do
something
to keep from attacking Prescott with an oyster shucker.

“All right, we’re on in sixty seconds,” someone calls out. The three of us move behind our counters. I stare at the
X
of tape on the floor. This is the last time I’ll need to stand here, the last time I’ll be competing in this arena. It’s weird how quickly things become so familiar, you can’t imagine life without them.

The rest of the judges, including Prescott, come out onto the set and stand in their assigned positions. I hold back the animal-like growl I feel in my throat. A director’s assistant runs forward with the black-and-white marker board and, moments later, Marcus calls “action.” Chef Mason moves to stand next to a covered cart.

“Tonight, one of you will receive the gift of a lifetime—a chance to study cooking in one of the food capitals of the world. In Paris, there is a section on every menu in every restaurant—‘
le fruit de la mer
’: the fruit of the ocean. Tonight, you will be creating a dish that highlights the best these gifts from the sea have to offer.”

He removes the sheet to reveal dozens of oysters, scallops, crab, clams, and shrimp, all chilling on a bed of chipped ice. He gestures to the mountain and smiles.

“These are your ingredients. You will have five minutes to map out your recipes and ninety minutes to prepare two dishes—one entrée and an accompanying side.”

At the sound of the buzzer, I practically fly to the cart. I reach for the scallops just as Christian starts putting some on his platter. I hurry to grab a dozen before he’s claimed them all. When I pass by Gigi picking through the clams, I give her arm a squeeze.

I decide on cranberry-glazed scallops with a sweet-potato
puree, an adaptation of a dish we do at Smoke Signals around the holidays. Once I’ve got the potatoes diced, I drop them in a pot of salted water and reach for the dial for my front burner.

I click it to the right, waiting for it to flare—nothing happens.

I try a few more times, but there’s nothing—no spark, no flame. I try one of the other burners. Turning the dial further, I lean down and sniff.

Nothing.

Crap. Of all the days not to check my burners first thing …

“Excuse me!” I call out to a group of techs loitering on one side of the set. “There’s something wrong with the stove—it’s not lighting.”

“Really?” One of them comes over and tinkers with the knobs. A minute passes as he continues to turn them again and again.

“I’ve already tried that. A lot.”

More technicians, and then Chef Mason, come to look at the broken range. After a few minutes, I can’t help but get a little impatient. There’s never been a more important night—the last thing I need is a nonworking stove.

“Nora.” Chef Mason pulls me aside. “Listen, I know this isn’t exactly the most appealing solution, but we’re going to have to have you buddy up with Christian—use his stove while we try to fix yours.”

Reluctantly, I look over at Christian. He shrugs.

“It’s fine—come on over. I have two open burners.”

I grimace.

“Just use mine, Nora,” Gigi calls over to me. “I’ll help you carry your stuff over.”

But Chef Mason has already moved my sauté pan to Christian’s station. I shrug, grabbing my tray of scallops.

“I’ll just stay here, Gigi.”

“But—”

“Contestants, please!” Ms. Svincek calls out, clapping her hands. “We’re
filming
!”

Gigi is shaking her head, her eyes troubled.