Dex (10 page)

“Yeah, some wacked dude who’s keeping me from getting the dishes done,” the kid shot back, starting to close the door.

Preston stuck his leg through and forced the door back open. “I’m going to have you fired, you little twerp!” he spewed as he walked through the door.

Preston hadn’t heard Marla tell the kid it was okay to let him in. She had been standing behind the partition between the kitchen and the dining room where she was hidden from view.

The kid rolled his eyes and walked away. Marla came out taking Preston by surprise.

“Oh, good you’re here!” Preston exclaimed. “I wanted to tell you that I found just the right wine to pair with the
Croque-Madame
for the after-wedding brunch. Very fruity. You’ll love it.” Preston took off his coat and flung it over a chair. “Why don’t you get me a cannoli and come have a seat.”

“Preston, we have to talk,” Marla said, quietly.

“Well of course we do. We’re getting married in a few weeks.”

“Preston-”

“Marla,” he interrupted, “just go get me the
cannoli
and then we’ll talk.”

She sighed and left him sitting at the table. Preston surveyed the dining room. There were so many changes he would make once they were married. He’d start by getting rid of the insolent busboy and then move on to the dark wood tables and their over-bearing matching chairs. The lace tablecloths and the faded carpeting had to go too. The whole place was mediocre, and he decided he’d change everything except the address.

Marla came out with a
cannoli
and placed it dutifully in front of Preston.

“Come sit,” he said, as one might command a cocker-spaniel.

“I’m sorry Preston. I just can’t.”

“Of course you can. I don’t need you to get me anything else. This looks delicious,” he piled a forkful of the pastry into his mouth. “Well, a glass of milk would be nice.”

Marla went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of milk.

“Good girl,” Preston beamed.

“This isn’t going to work,” Marla blurted.

“Oh, I know. I see how much I’m going to have to change this place,” he noted and gazed around the room again. “But, don’t worry. I’m up to the task.”

“I’m afraid I’m not.”

“You don’t have to be. You just have to look as pretty as you always do.” He took her hand and kissed the engagement ring he’d given her. “And, of course, be there when I need you.”

“Preston, you’re not getting it.” Marla took the ring off her finger and handed it to him. “I don’t love you. I can’t marry you.” She walked away without turning back.

“Love? Love is not what marriage is about--” Preston said into the air.

#

Poppy was in the kitchen prepping for the next day when Preston burst in and pounded his fist on the counter.

“Hey, hey!” Poppy exclaimed, “What’s going on?”

“Your daughter has lost her mind,” Preston roared. “She broke our engagement!”

Poppy walked over to Preston and put his arm around his shoulder. “I’m sorry kid. That’s a tough break,” he comforted, giving him a pat on the back before he went back to chopping vegetables. “These things happen. Sometimes life starts one way and ends up another.”

The phone in the dining room rang.

“But, in the end, everything always works out for the best.” Poppy excused himself to take the call.

Preston looked around the busy kitchen. Much to his dismay, every pot had its place and each herb was fresh and fragrant. Poppy was running this place like a well-oiled machine, and his obvious skills had led to the kind of success that made Preston seethe with envy. Marla had ruined everything.

Preston was sure he’d done everything right. He’d told her the things women want to hear, took her to the finest restaurants, bought her stupid little cards and gifts, and promised he would always take care of her. What more could she have wanted? So, he did what he had to do. That was her fault, not his. No one was going to push him away from his dreams without paying up.

A piece of paper was sitting on the counter near the stove. ‘Poppy’s Pesto.’ It was a recipe.
The
recipe. The one that had critics clamoring and diners driving for miles. This piece of paper was the dream, his dream.

“You’re right Poppy,” Preston said to himself. “Everything is going to turn out for the best after all,” he concluded in a whisper.

Preston whipped out a pen from his shirt pocket and searched for paper. He couldn’t even find a gum wrapper. He snatched a piece of paper towel from the holder on the wall and without moving the recipe a single hair, frantically copied it in its entirety before he could be discovered. When he was done he stuffed the towel into his pants pocket and took off like popcorn in a microwave.

CHAPTER
fourteeN

“I can’t believe it! Our Dex is going to be an Eatz Network chef!” Vince exclaimed,
making a turn onto the highway.

“I’m sure Poppy’s up there celebrating with a great big cannoli,” Marla said, eyeing Dex in the mirror of the passenger visor.

“Yeah,” Dex muttered. He was in his own world. He had woken up worrying about cooking class and not having enough time to soak the raisins for his spice cookies. Now he was ending the day worrying about having time for classes and his own TV show. His fingers hurt from texting back and forth with Kyle and Liza who sounded almost more excited than he did. The good news was that he might not have to wait forever to buy the
Gymbuff
and could get Sarah to go out with him by spring break.

Vince pulled into their neighborhood. The Eatz Studio was an easy ride from their house, only fifteen minutes if there was no traffic or construction. Dex noticed a school bus driving by and saw Rhonda at the wheel. They waved to each other as if she hadn’t just bought a Canadian bacon and egg
panini
from him earlier that day. It was always more exciting to see someone unexpectedly.

“Who was that?” Marla asked, rubbing on some vanilla-scented lotion she’d pulled out of the glove compartment.

“Rhonda. She’s one of my customers.” Dex watched the bus disappear around the corner and suddenly became worried. “What’s going to happen to my business? What am I going to do about my lunch stand?”

“You’ll still have plenty of time before school to stay ‘King of the Gourmet Lunch,’” Vince assured as he pulled into their driveway. “If that’s still what you want.”

“Yeah. I guess,” was all Dex could muster as he got out of the car, his head spinning so fast it was hard to move.

“Go on in the house,” Vince called out the window as he now pulled back out of the driveway. “Your mom and I have a few errands to run. We’ll be back soon. Hey, how about I pick up that kitchen sink pizza you like from Cortazzo’s?”

“Sounds great!” Dex yelled, with renewed energy.

The thought of the gooey cheese, mixed with the fried eggplant and the salty anchovies, got Dex moving again. Although now he had to tell Geema to save whatever she was making for another night.

“Geema?” Dex shouted as he ran into the house through the back door.

He popped his head into the kitchen, but no one was there. This was probably the only day Geema wasn’t preparing something at this hour. He checked the family room, but it was dark. Great. When he had nothing to tell except that a bird pooped on his book bag, everyone was home. Now, when he had much bigger news, no one was around.

He ran upstairs and barged into Alicia’s room without even considering that she might be naked. Thankfully, she wasn’t.

“Eatz is giving me my own show.” It wasn’t exactly the way he had intended to tell her, but at the moment, it was the most practical.

“What are you talking about?”

“What I told you. That’s what the meeting with Sarah’s uncle was for. That guy from the bat-mitzvah, remember? That’s Ezra, the head of Eatz network. He wants to give me my own show.”

“Oh my God! Dex, that’s awesome!” Alicia jumped off her bed and hugged him so hard he nearly passed out. Then she ripped out a sheet of paper from the notebook lying on her desk. “Can I be the first to have your autograph?” she asked, handing him a pen.

He knew she was trying to make him feel good, but he was too preoccupied to play along.

“Maybe later.” Dex started to leave the room, but turned around before he reached the door. “Can I see that letter again?”

Alicia opened her drawer and took out the notice from the bank.

Dex stared at it for a while. “Leesh, let’s not say anything about this to mom and dad. Not Geema either. There’s no sense making them worry.” He knew he sounded like he had an actual plan in mind, but he didn’t.

“Worry? You’re going to be a TV star; you’ll be able to pay for anything.”

“Not exactly. This is more about the future than right now.”

“Dex, that makes no sense.”

“Whatever. I’m just telling you. I may not make much for a while.” He waved the paper in the air. “Way past when this needs to be fixed.” He put the letter back in Alicia’s drawer.

“So no matter what happens we lose the restaurant.”

“No. I’m sure we’ll be able to work this whole thing out sooner than later,” he said, trying to convince himself that it was still possible.

CHAPTER
fifteeN

They gave him one week. Ezra called and said the sponsors wanted Dex’s show to air before the official start of the holiday season. That actually meant the day before yesterday, but Ezra was willing to give Dex one week to rehearse at home before filming in the studio. Marla had tried to convince Ezra that one week wasn’t enough time, but he insisted that Dex was a natural and that his charm and skill would outweigh any little problems he might have.

“I’m not worried about the little problems, like spilling flour on the counter, or even dropping an egg shell into a batter,” Dex explained to his mother.  “It’s the big ones, like setting the kitchen on fire, that scare me.” He added whipped cream to the top of the strawberry shortcake sundae he made for them to share.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Marla guaranteed. She took a big spoonful of ice cream. “You’re an amazing chef.”

“You’re my mother. You have to say stuff like that. It’s your job.”

Marla opened the refrigerator and started rifling through the bins. “Having faith in you is not my job, it’s my joy.” She sounded wistful.

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Do we have any sprinkles?” she sighed.

Dex laughed and got them from the cabinet. This was the first time in weeks she was
eating something you wouldn’t find in a rabbit cage.

“Listen Dex, I know a week doesn’t sound like much time,” she conceded, as she sprinkled the sundae, “but Ezra is a stranger and he believes in you and your talent. And he’d know better than anyone what people will watch. That has to count for something.”

“I guess,” Dex accepted, trying to be less negative. “It’s just that…”

“What?”

“It’s one thing to feel like a dork in gym class, but it would be a lot worse to prove it on national television.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Marla promised. “Call your friends and have them come over. What you need is an audience.”

#

Dex stood behind the kitchen counter assembling a line of ingredients and utensils. His rehearsal had to be authentic and he knew cooking shows always had that kind of stuff prepared in advance. That was the secret behind a meal made on TV being ready to serve in a half hour. Dex knew that with all the chopping and measuring he needed to do, he would have to add on at least another half hour.

The only thing he decided to save for his audience was the chopping. He knew people liked to watch a chef dice onions, grate ginger, and smash garlic. Maybe it was the speed and precision, or maybe they were waiting to see a professional make a mistake. He had to admit when Geema forced him to watch figure-skating, he counted on someone doing a butt-flop.

But that wasn’t going to happen to him. There would be no flopping of any kind. He had gone over the recipe a dozen times and he was more than ready to cook.

“Hey, Dexpert, looking good,” Alicia said from behind the camera. She had started filming the night before as Marla set up seats in the family room for Dex’s rehearsal. Earlier that morning, Marla booked a last minute commercial for glow-in-the-dark dishwashing gloves and Vince had gotten called to work when his assistant at the bakery came down with the flu. Neither would be at the rehearsal, but Alicia had promised to film everything so they wouldn’t feel left out.

In Dex’s opinion, Alicia was staying a little too true to her word.  He complained she was shooting too much footage, but she said that was what editing was for.

“You’re my work in progress,” Alicia reminded him. “So deal.”

Dex was so engrossed in his own thoughts about which bowls to use, and if sea salt would add more flavor than table salt, that he never heard the doorbell ring. He was taken aback when  Kyle, Liza, Jordy, and Sarah walked into the family room, following behind Geema. Everyone said their hellos and then, as Marla had instructed them the day before, they all took seats in front of the kitchen counter like a real studio audience.

“How’s it going?” Liza asked on the sly.

“I guess okay,” Dex answered, then glanced over at Sarah. “What’s she doing here?”

“You like her. I invited her.” Liza smirked and gave Dex a little pinch on the cheek. “You can thank me later, doughboy.”

“I will,” Dex groaned, with a nervous smile. He walked behind the counter and took a few deep breaths hoping to quiet what felt like an octopus clawing at his gut.
Just start
, he murmured to himself.
Pick up a spoon, an onion, grate some garlic; do anything but stare at Sarah or fart
. Was this really show biz?

“Go ahead, Dex,” Geema nudged, “You can start now.”

Maybe she didn’t realize he was trying. That was a good sign. It was much better for him if they thought he was waiting for them to be ready. He gave himself permission to stop obsessing, then began tying on a blue apron that read,
DINE WITH DEX
, a gift his parents had given him in honor of his new show.

The only thing missing was that big ‘I-love-to-cook-on-TV' smile. He immediately planted one on his face and reminded himself it had to stay there even when he was chopping onions.

“Hey everyone! Thanks for coming!” Dex began before he could stop himself with yet another worrying thought.  “So first off, it’s really important to season your pasta water.” He poured a handful of salt into a large pot. “Or you’ll be stuck with nothing but a boring, wet noodle.”

He got a chuckle from his audience and began to feel more comfortable. He moved over to another pot. “Classic marinara is a must-have in an Italian kitchen!” Dex exclaimed. “If it’s not there you feel like part of your family is missing at the table.”

Dex barely noticed as Alicia stood on a chair and held the camera above the cooking area.

“Looking good,” he said, covering the pot after the addition of several garlic cloves. “Let’s move onto our ground beef, pork, and chicken.” Dex added the pre-measured herbs and spices.

“Now I don’t know about you,” he said, blending the mixture with gloved hands, “but I always like to rub my balls with some oil and garlic.”

He heard Geema gasp and Jordy burst out laughing.

“Meatballs!” he shouted, realizing his little misstep. After a moment of hyperventilation, he continued. “Let’s go back to the sauce,” he said, regaining composure. “Now when you make tomato sauce, be sure to use the right utensils. I’ve got my own favorite wooden spoon, right here. My Poppy gave it to me.”

Dex lowered the spoon toward the pot, but a surge of hot steam burned his fingers.

“OW!” he yelped, letting go.

The spoon plopped into the boiling pot, and red hot tomato sauce splattered all over the counter and his apron. Dex did a pained dance as some of the burning sauce hit his head, and he smacked himself a few times to get it off. Jordy couldn’t contain his laughter and Liza punched him on the arm.

“Yo Chickee, don’t be bangin’ on my ‘ceps,” Jordy scolded, patting his wounded arm. Liza grumbled and turned away.

“I can’t do this!” Dex pounded his fists on the counter and started to walk away.

Alicia put down the camera and stopped him. “Remember?” she whispered in his ear, “failure is not an option.”

“Dex, stop worrying,” Geema advised. “No matter what happens, keep going. You’re doing great.”

Alicia was right. He had no choice. If they were going to save Poppy’s Kitchen, Dex had to be the best chef he could be. He pasted on the same smile he had mustered before and went back to the counter.

“Our pasta has been swimming long enough to be al dente, which literally means to the teeth, or a bit firm,” Dex offered, while he searched for something he didn’t seem able to find. He scratched his head and opened a nearby cabinet.

“Ah, there you are!” he said, clutching the colander like a long lost friend. There was nothing entertaining about desperation and he was worried. He took a deep breath. Just keep moving was his favorite new phrase.

“Now we’re going to put our spaghetti,” he explained, as he began to pour out the water, “into this calendar. I mean…um…colander!”

Dex panicked. Another mistake, but this time he tried to stay focused on the task. Meatballs and spaghetti had been one of the first dishes he had ever made. He expected everything to go smoothly, only now the pasta was sticking to the pot.  He was so nervous he hadn’t filled the pot with enough water. A common problem for amateurs, but not so much for chefs who had their own TV shows. He carefully attempted to coax the spaghetti into the colander when his hand hit the side of the sink, sending all but a little of the pasta down the drain.

“Whoops,” Dex chuckled, holding up the empty colander. “Dinner for one!” he exclaimed, before he had the chance to brood.

His audience nodded their approval giving Dex the confidence to continue.

“So, now that our sauce has cooled down, let’s put the whole dish together.” He took the pan of meatballs and emptied it flawlessly onto a platter, leaving a small well in the center.

“We’ve got our delicious meatballs,” he sighed in relief, “and our perfectly portioned pasta.” He felt relaxed as he arranged the meatball platter.

“And, to top off our dish, Poppy’s old-fashioned marinara sau--”

As Dex lifted the bowl of sauce, his foot slipped on a clump of pasta that had fallen on the floor. Everyone ducked as the sauce went flying forward, but there was no escaping its messy path.

“Yo D-Sizzle, what up wit da tomato rain?” Jordy complained, licking the sauce on his arm. “It’s fly, but you best use ‘dem noodles.”

Liza and Sarah were laughing all their way to the paper towels and Geema was applauding despite the mess on her lap. The only one Dex didn’t hear from was Kyle who was busy smacking his lips as the sauce trickled down his head into his mouth.