Deep Dish (17 page)

A
s the dappled green waters of Eutaw Sound slid by, Tate slung an arm around Val’s shoulder.

“See?” he said companionably. “Isn’t this cool? Don’t you love the fresh air and the open sea? Isn’t this going to be great?”

“I fuckin’ hate fresh seas and open air,” Val said. “Always have. Makes me queasy.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Never,” Val said. “My next job, I’m thinking about game shows. Yeah. Game shows. You never leave the studio.”

“Wait till you see Eutaw again. Miles of unspoiled beaches. Windswept dunes, gnarled oaks. Remember the herds of wild ponies? And that sea grass, ruffling in the breeze? And what about the whitetail deer? And there’s what, thirty different kinds of birds? I wanna go back over to the other side of the island, see that blue heron rookery again. And you know my favorite part? Not a soul around, hardly. No condos, no suburban assault vehicles, no traffic jams. Spectacular.”

Val turned and gave him an appraising look. “You’re sure little Johnny Sunshine today. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Tate told her. “The tides and the moon are perfect. Fishing should be great for the next couple days.”

“That’s my boy,” Val said, nodding approval. “We’re gonna win this thing.”

G
ina Foxton could feel Tate watching her from two rows ahead. Her cheeks still burned from the memory of her blurted-out confession in the diner.

God! She shook her head, trying to dislodge the whole stupid scene from the place where it had embedded itself in her brain cells.

“Smile, girl!”

D’John trained a tiny, handheld camcorder inches away from her face.

“D’John, no!” she wailed. “I’m not even wearing any makeup.”

“I know,” he said, leaving the camera rolling. “This is for my Before file. Give D’John a smile so he can see where we gonna be shootin’ the Botox on you.”

Instead she showed him the back of her head.

He clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Bed-head! Didn’t I teach you anything? Did you just roll out of bed and forget to look in a mirror this morning?”

D’John put the camera down and started fluffing her hair. “You can’t be walkin’ around in public looking like this, Gina,” he fussed. “If you don’t care about yourself, think about how it reflects on
me
. People see you, and they’re saying, ‘Damn! D’John did that? He musta been trippin’!’”

He picked up the camera again and pointed at her. “Tell the folks at home that you will never be seen in public again without full makeup and hair.”

Gina rolled her eyes, but mugged for the camera as she was told, and, satisfied, he put the camera away and sat back to enjoy the scenery. She rested her head on D’John’s shoulder and watched the sweep of sky and sea as it flowed past. “Beautiful, huh?” she murmured. “I think I’ll go up on the bow in a little bit and get some sun.”

“Can you say squamous-cell carcinoma?” D’John said, biting out the words. “Here.” He reached into his straw beach bag and brought out a pink baseball cap and a tube of sunscreen. “I don’t wanna see you stepping foot out of the shade unless you’re covered head to toe in this stuff.”

D’John himself was dressed in a Moorish-inspired, ankle-length, pale yellow cotton tunic with black embroidery at the neck and hem
line, matching drawstring pants, and rope-soled espadrilles. The brim of a huge floppy straw hat drooped over his shoulders. And he’d taken the precaution of coating his nose with a paste of white zinc oxide. His favorite white plastic Jackie O sunglasses shaded his eyes.

Lisa sat on the other side of D’John, already deep asleep, snoring with her mouth open. She’d disappeared the night before, shortly after they’d checked into the Riverside Inn, and had crept back into their shared room around dawn. Gina had no idea how her sister had managed to find nightlife in a tiny little town like Darien, but obviously she’d found somebody to party with, because when she’d finally managed to drag herself down to the boat dock minutes before their departure this morning, she was still dressed in a spangled black halter top, filmy black chiffon miniskirt, and lace-up, high-heeled black sandals.

Gina looked discreetly around, trying to figure out where Barry Adelman and the rest of the TCC people were. Zeke, Barry’s assistant, had already unzipped his laptop computer from its carrying case and was busily tapping away on the keyboard, oblivious to the spectacular scenery flowing by.

Gina got up and made her way to the bow of the boat, tugging the bill of the cap down in deference to D’John’s dire warnings about skin cancer.

The sun beat down on her shoulders, and the wind whipped at her hair and hat so that she had to hold them down with one hand. If she squinted, she could barely make out a dark shape in the distance. Seagulls cawed and dipped in and out of the water ahead of them, and suddenly, off to the right side of the boat, she saw the sleek dark gray backs of a pair of dolphins as they surfaced for air. Now, as she watched, two more smaller fins joined the other two, and then there were two more, close enough that she could hear their snorts as they surfaced. The dolphins reminded her of children at play, circling and, yes, leaping into the air, spraying droplets of water as they hit the water again.

“There’s a school of fish they’re feeding on.” She turned, and Tate Moody was standing right beside her at the bow rail.

“I love watching dolphins,” Gina said. “Before Lisa was born, my
daddy used to take me with him to the coast, on fishing trips. We’d rent a little boat in Brunswick, just the two of us, and go out into the creek. Sometimes when the tide was in, dolphins would swim right up beside the boat. Daddy’d always toss ’em some of our bait. It was like they were hanging around waiting on us for a handout.”

“Do that now, and you’d get arrested,” Tate said. “Dolphins have protected status in Georgia. It’s against the law to do anything to lure them closer to boats. The experts think that’s how a lot of ’em get injured and die.”

“Oh, well,” Gina said with a sigh.

“That’s Eutaw up ahead,” Tate said, pointing. “If you look over there to the right, in a minute, you can see a little bit of the lodge and the plantation house through the treetops.”

“You’ve been here before?” Her voice was sharp.

“Yeah. Of course. I did a show here a couple years ago.”

“I should have known,” Gina said bitterly. “I thought this was supposed to be some big mystery destination. It’s not really fair. Is it?”

“I had nothing to do with picking the spot for the Food Fight,” Tate said. “I’ve been doing my show for two years. We’ve been all up and down the East Coast filming. But that doesn’t necessarily give me an advantage. I’ve got no idea of what these clowns have up their sleeves for us.”

“Guess I’ll just have to be a better cook than you,” Gina said, keeping her gaze on the approaching island.

“You think I’d cheat?” Tate asked.

“You’re a man,” she said, as if that settled the question.

“Zaleski cheated on you, is that it?” he asked.

“Like you hadn’t already heard the whole tawdry tale?”

He tapped her on the shoulder, and reluctantly, she turned toward him.

“I’m kinda out of the loop on local gossip. Though, to tell you the truth, it doesn’t surprise me.”

“He
says
it was a onetime deal,” Gina said, turning so her back was to the island and the wind was out of her face.

“Moron. You mind if I ask who it was?”

She shrugged. “Danitra Bickerstaff.”

“Who’s she?”

“You really are out of touch. She’s married to Wiley Bickerstaff III, the owner of the Tastee-Town supermarket chain.”

He grimaced. “Aren’t they…”

“Yeah. My sponsor. Or, they were my sponsor. Wiley caught ’em in the act, and so now, come spring, my show’s off the air. Unless—”

“You win the Food Fight,” he finished for her. “And get a shot at the big leagues.”

She gave him a sideways look. “Make you feel guilty?”

“Nope,” he said. “This is a whole separate deal here. May the best cook win. Anyway, I’m not the one who cheated on you. See, that’s one big difference between me and Zaleski.”

“What? You’re smart enough not to get caught?”

“I’m not all that smart,” Tate said. “But if we were together, I’d never cheat on you.”

“Sweet,” she said, touched.

“Geen?”

Lisa lurched toward her, her face a grayish shade of green.

Gina moved aside just in time for her sister to hang her head over the rail and puke her guts out.

D’John leaned over the side of the boat to catch the action on camera. “Lisa, baby,” he called. “Look this way.”

“Ohhhh.” Lisa moaned, pressing her face to the rail. “Get me off this boat.”

“You okay?” Gina asked, pulling a tissue from the pocket of her shorts to wipe her sister’s face.

“Noooo,” Lisa said. “I need this thing to stop moving.”

Gina looked up. They were only a few yards from a long wooden dock extending out over a stretch of salt marsh and sea grass. Parked under a covered pavilion at the end of the dock were half a dozen golf carts.

“Five minutes,” Tate assured her. As they watched, a golf cart trailering a string of luggage carts came bumping over the dock toward the end. “The guys from the plantation will get the baggage and equipment unloaded, but we’ll take those carts up to the lodge for check-in,” he said.

“Gina? Lisa?” Scott strode toward them. “I’ll get you guys up to the lodge.” He put a proprietary hand on Lisa’s elbow. “Come on, Lisa. You’ll feel better once you’re out of the sun.”

Lisa groaned, pressed both hands to her mouth, then barfed all over Scott’s Ralph Lauren polo shirt.

“Got it! D’John said triumphantly, neatly sidestepping the mess as he panned the camcorder for a wide-angle shot of the disaster.

L
isa!”

Zeke rushed up and put his arms around Gina’s retching sister. He tenderly helped her back to her seat and proceeded to mop her up with the roll of paper towels fetched by one of the crew members.

Scott stared down at his ruined shirt and his spattered shoes. “She did this on purpose,” he said, his voice low and furious. He pointed his finger at Gina. “You told her to do this.”

“Me?” Gina sputtered. “You think I can make my sister barf on command?”

Tate had to move away, his shoulders heaving with suppressed laughter.

Sensing the tension, D’John quietly followed, his camera switched to off.

Scott watched them walk away. “You think this is funny too?” he asked Gina. “This was a Purple Label Ralph Lauren. It cost a hundred and eighty-five dollars,” he said, stripping it off and flinging it into a nearby trash barrel. “It was a gift from a very special friend,” he added, with more than a touch of malice.

He looks good shirtless, Gina thought idly. All those hours on the rowing machine, on the elliptical, at the weight bench, and on the beach had paid off. His shoulders rippled with muscles, his golden chest hair glinted against the deep bronze of his skin. He was flat-bellied. He was buff, he was tan. He was soulless.

“Maybe if you play nice, she’ll buy you another one,” Gina offered.

His eyes clouded. “I’m sorry,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “That was way off base. Danitra did give me the shirt, but I swear, it was just that one time, when we were at the Ritz.”

“None of my business,” Gina said lightly, feeling a faint stabbing in the vicinity of her left ventricle.

“I want it to be your business again,” Scott said. “I want you to know I haven’t seen her or talked to her since that night.” His voice faltered. “I…don’t know why I wanted to throw that in your face. I was mad at Lisa. And maybe…” He gazed into the distance, and she saw he was watching Tate, sitting beside Val Foster, deep in conversation. “I was jealous. I saw you this morning, in the diner. With him. You looked pretty friendly. And just now…”

“We were talking,” Gina said coldly. “About dolphins. And then we were talking about the island. He’s been to Eutaw before. I think it gives him an unfair advantage.”

“Shit!” Scott said, suddenly energized. “That sucks. I’d never even heard of the place before.”

The sharp bleat of the air horn sounded, and suddenly the launch bumped hard against the dock.

“Debarkation point, Eutaw Island,” the deckhand called.

“People?” Zeke was standing beside the deckhand now, his laptop and briefcase strapped across his chest, bandolier-style.

“Everybody?” he repeated. “This is Eutaw Island. Before you depart the boat, I’ve got dossiers for everybody.” He reached into the briefcase and pulled out a stack of shiny orange vinyl packets, which he started passing around.

Gina grabbed one of the packets. “Food Fight!” read the label on the packet. “An Adel-Weis Production for The Cooking Channel.”

She opened it up and scanned the first page, but she needn’t have bothered, since Zeke had already started his briefing session.

D’John stood against the boat’s deck rail, panning the camera at the crew, and then focusing on Zeke’s big moment.

“Eutaw Island is the southernmost coastal barrier island in the state of Georgia,” he began. “The name is thought to be derived from a Creek Indian word that, translated loosely, means ‘damned good oysters.’”

That drew a faint round of laughter from the surprised crew. Zeke adjusted his reading glasses on the end of his nose and plowed onward in his lecture.

“Before the Civil War, the entire island was owned by Colonel Bradyn Nathaniel Hooker, a wealthy cotton planter. Colonel Hooker built a plantation home here, called Rebeccaville, named for his only daughter.

“At one time, nearly one hundred slaves lived and worked on Rebeccaville, which produced the highest quality Sea Island cotton on the Georgia coast. The old tabby-shell slave quarters have been preserved and are sometimes rented—”

“Slaves!” D’John lowered the camera. His voice was indignant. “I’m not staying in any damned slave quarters.”

Zeke blanched. “We’ll all be staying in the lodge while on the island.”

“Fine,” D’John said, gathering up his belongings. “As long as we’ve got
that
settled.” He came and stood beside Gina, listening for more details.

Zeke cleared his throat. “The island and the plantation remain today in the hands of Brady Hooker’s heirs, who operate it as a conference center, wildlife preserve, and corporate retreat.

“The entire building complex was completely restored and modernized by the Hooker family five years ago. At the lodge, you’ll all have access to the living areas, which include a living room and dining room, library, and of course, a screened porch that looks out over the plantation’s grounds, much of which have been allowed to return to their natural, unspoiled state.”

“Does that mean bugs and snakes?” D’John asked. He poked Gina in the ribs. “You know this queen does not mess with bugs and snakes.”

“Where will we be doing the actual cooking for the Food Fight?” Gina asked, hoping to quiet D’John.

Zeke beamed his approval. “I’m glad you asked. We’ve had a crew over here all week, building a state-of-the-art kitchen in the ruins of the mansion’s old ballroom. I haven’t seen it myself yet, but Barry says it’s stunning.”

“A
kitchen?” Tate frowned. “We don’t each have our own kitchen? We have to share?”

“Barry feels it’ll make for great television,” Zeke said. “And there will be plenty of room for both of you.”

“I don’t like it,” Scott said, folding his arms across his chest. “Nobody said anything to me about shared facilities.”

Valerie yawned loudly. “Can we just get the hell off this boat? I’ve got to pee. And I’m hungry.”

“And I don’t feel so good,” Lisa said, wobbling as she stood.

“Fine,” Zeke announced, throwing her a sympathetic look. “The golf carts will take you all up to the lodge, and the caretaker will meet you in the lobby and give everybody their keys and room assignments.” He glanced down at his watch. “Our lunch should be ready when we get there, and the dining room will be open until one thirty.”

“Is there a bar?” Val asked pointedly.

“I believe wine and beer will be available after five o’clock,” Zeke said. “After lunch, we’ll have a meeting to go over the rules and procedures for the Food Fight, and we’ll discuss the taping schedule.”

“Let’s go,” Scott told Gina, moving toward the ramp that had been lowered from the ferry to the dock. “I want to start getting the lay of the land as soon as possible. Moody’s already got a head start on us.”

Gina nodded in agreement and looked around for her younger sister. But Lisa was already being helped off the boat by Zeke.