Fire In the Kitchen (17 page)

A soft tap on the doorframe gained her attention.

“Going my way?”

She looked at the man dressed identically to her.

“What do you want, Dante?” Her voice was cold.
Antarctic
cold. “What happened to us both going our separate ways?”

“Can’t a friend check on his fellow competitor before the media onslaught?”

“So we’re just competitors again? Give me a break.” Cassidy rubbed her eyes. Behind the lids her eyes felt gritty and she wished she’d had at least a few solid hours of sleep to help her be more alert for this conversation. Coffee would be very welcome too, but not of the instant kind.

“I’ve made it this far,” she said. “I think I can cope alone now, thanks.”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought his shoulders slumped for a millisecond before his straight posture returned.

“Our conversation yesterday came out all wrong,” he said. “I hope you didn’t take it personally.”

Cassidy shook her head. “Well I am a person, Dante, and you were speaking to me, so it was personal. I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I’d rather focus my energies on the interview.”

“Fair call, Cassidy. I just want you to understand the dilemma I’m in. I came in here because I wanted my causes to be taken seriously, and winning is a way to do it. Showing that footage undermined all that because they wanted to focus on a frivolous food fight. I can’t believe they televised it.”

Cassidy shook her head. “I thought it was kind of fun.”

Dante picked up her hand and kissed it.

“Please remember my answers today will be strategic, and one or two should be taken with a grain of salt,” Dante said. “I need to salvage some of this.”

“Why? Because you’ll be aiming to keep your
integrity
intact?” Cassidy crossed her arms and indicated with her head it was time for him to go. “You’re priceless, emphasis on the
less
. Just go.”

Dante took a couple of steps before turning back.

“Er…Cassidy?”

Please don’t kiss me…please don’t kiss me…I’ll fall apart.

“Yes?”

His hand ran down her arm and shook her white jacket sleeve.

“This isn’t you.”

“Don’t be so sure.” She felt a glint in her eye she wished were a blowtorch.

“Don’t be so defensive,” he said as he moved his hand back up her arm and squeezed her shoulder.

Cassidy pushed his hand away. “Please don’t touch me. I’m over your mixed messages. You may be able to treat your other women like that, but in my world, people want to be around me unconditionally.”

“About the other night we spent together…”

“It meant nothing?” Cassidy crossed her arms.

“Of course not, but we have to be careful that…”

Cassidy started to close the door to block out the rest of his words and what he’d done to her heart. He put his hand out to stop her and eased the door open again. She put her hands over her face to cover her eyes for a few seconds.

“It’s hard enough being judged by judges on what I can do,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to be judged by
you
on who I am—on every level. In the kitchen and…” Her voice caught. “…out of it.”

He moved inside her room and leaned against the door.

“Stay true to what makes you unique,” he said, “and ignore stuffy chefs who have a habit of saying the wrong things.”

He kissed her gently on the forehead.

Cassidy pushed him away.

“Don’t want anyone else to see that, do you?” She pointed to the door and exhaled heavily. “I’ll see you there.”

Dante nodded and left, closing the door behind him. As she exhaled the breath she’d been holding, she heard another knock.

“What now,” she called out in exasperation. “My own message isn’t mixed, it’s plain and simple—I’ll see you there.”

The knock was persistent, so she pulled the door open with more force than was necessary. Instead of Dante, there was a box waiting for her on the other side of the door.

What now?

She opened the card first. It simply read, “Sorry.”

She placed the box on the bed and lifted the lid. A smile illuminated her face as she swung the outfit around her as though it was a beautiful dress for her first school dance. The pants were a thick cotton and practical, but they looked comfortable. The top was a chef’s top, but it was made of the same material and had mixed colors of turquoise and sea green. She loved it and changed quickly, transferring her finalist pin onto it. Where had he gotten it from, and how had he gotten it here so quickly? He may have wronged her, but he was right in choosing clothing that reflected who she was. It reinforced her belief to remain true to herself.

With a bounce in her step and a quickening of her heart, she almost floated to her interview. It didn’t mean she forgave him, but it was a start. At least she felt in control of her own destiny, in clothes that reflected who she was inside.

She was directed to a new area of the building and was in awe of the set. It looked like a room Martha Stewart would be proud of, and there were a couple hundred empty seats for viewers. The cooking benches were an inviting warm wood for cutting straight onto. There were wine racks filled with interesting wines, herb plants in abundance, and a screen backdrop that kept changing, showing the different outdoor locations of where the final competitors normally worked. Cassidy felt homesick when she saw her beloved Cuckoo Café.

There were now only four of them left—Cassidy, Dante, Carlos, and a chef named Frederick, who could cook well, but lacked the charisma required for a chef to be successful on television.

The producers indicated for her to wait until it was her turn to be interviewed.

Frederick was the first to be interviewed and it was so uninteresting, it was boring. In contrast, Carlos was charming, funny, and confident. He came across as so sincere, but Cassidy couldn’t forget what Dante had told her about him, not to mention the way he’d tried to get close to her in order to hurt his cousin.

Cassidy’s interview went well, just as she’d played it in her mind. She waited for the interviewers to ask her about the night of the food fight, but they seemed happy to talk about her café and her dreams for the future and what it would mean to her if she won. She returned to her seat and smiled encouragingly at Dante when they called him up, watching as he strode confidently to the interview chair.

“So, Dante, we know all about your cooking skills, but let’s get to know who
you
are a bit better, away from your public façade,” a glamorous female interviewer said without preamble. “We’ve heard you and Cassidy are an item…should your female fans be pinning their hopes on another man now?”

Dante looked the interviewer in the eye and smiled confidently. “We only met roughly around the time of the competition.”

“So there’s nothing going on?”

“Not for public consumption,” Dante said, leaning forward and raising his eyebrows. “Got any questions for me about the exciting Slow Food movement in Perth?”

The interviewer ignored Dante’s attempted distraction.

“Come on, Dante, we’ve seen the footage. How about we remind you?”

The backdrop of the ocean and Dante’s restaurant faded into the scene of the food fight. Cassidy saw there was no way he could get out of it and she believed he had no chance but to come clean, albeit metaphorically. As she watched, she felt laughter bubbling in her throat at the memory of the great time they’d had making such a mess.

“Yes, that little scene you have there was amusing, and we had a bit of fun, but you must understand it was all taken out of context,” Dante said, smooth as marble.

“How so?”

“We’d had a long day and it was our way of blowing off steam. It was just a refreshing dip in the ocean, just a laugh we now know will also be enjoyed by the viewers. It could have happened to any of us. It was nothing.”

Cassidy felt her stomach tighten. She felt like she was going to be sick.

“Oh really?” The interviewer knew she had Dante trumped. “So, when you say it was nothing, you really mean she means nothing to you?”

“Other than admiring her as a talented cook and a nice person to be around, there’s no relationship.” He flashed a smile at the interviewer. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“So, you won’t be seeing her again after the finals?”

“We have nothing in common other than food, so can we get back to talking about that?”

Dante looked over at Cassidy and, as she felt her chin start to quiver, she also finally understood. He wasn’t a man who could be happy to accept her unconditionally, and couldn’t embrace her lighthearted behavior in public. She’d been humiliated beyond belief. Any warm feelings she’d had left for him had been put into a cooler, along with several bags of ice.

Cassidy kept a brave face until the interviews were complete. She said her farewells, thanked the producers for their time, and discreetly left via a back staff exit. The red door creaked open and sunlight welcomed her face.

“Cassidy, wait.” Dante called out to her. She ignored him and fled along the paved path. She heard his footsteps and started to run. Evading him would be difficult, but she couldn’t bear to talk about what he’d just said about her. She aimed for the large white gum tree in a secluded corner and scrambled against the rough bark on its trunk to climb it as fast as she could. She settled on a hefty branch before looking down to address the sound of a branch snapping below. Dante was right behind her, cursing.

“Hi.” He sat on a nearby limb, slightly out of breath.

“What’s wrong with you?” Cassidy looked down to make sure no one else had followed.

“I’m a grown man climbing a tree.” He rubbed a fresh graze on his arm.

The wind was strong, so she held on tight. “I wasn’t talking about you being a poor imitation of Tarzan.”

“I know.” Dante moved toward her branch. “I’m an ass. It came out all wrong in there.”

Cassidy put her hand out to stop him from moving closer. “I really don’t want to do this.”

“Although I’ve always had a public façade, I’m a very private person.” Dante bit his bottom lip. “I think we should be judged by the food we cook, not how we feel toward each other.”

“
Now
you feel something?”

“I always did. Don’t you?”

Cassidy climbed down the tree and jumped to the ground. She looked up and shrugged. “Stop playing games with my emotions and we’ll see.”

Tap, tap.

Tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

The annoying sound woke Cassidy from a deep sleep. The sixteen-hour days were taking their toll, and she always looked forward to the moment her head hit the pillow. Often she was too tired to get into her pajamas, so she stripped down to just her underwear. Tonight had been one of those times. It had been a long day that had fused into night.

Her heart rate reacted to the noise before her mind had had time to make the leap between her dreams and being awake. The insistent rapping did not cease, and she forced her eyes to try to see in the darkness as she sat up in bed.

“Who is it?” she called out.

“It’s Pearl, love.” The older registrar’s voice croaked through the door. “Open up.”

“Pearl?” A nervous wave swept through Cassidy’s body. She ran her hands through her hair and rubbed her eyes. “Just a minute.”

Pulling the sheet around her, toga style, she swung herself over the bed and tripped over one of her shoes.

“Ouch. Stupid thing.”

“Cassidy? You all right in there?”

“Yes. I’m coming, I’m coming.”

She made her way to the door and fumbled for the light switch. She took a look at her messy reflection in the mirror and decided she should really start removing her mascara in the evenings.

Swinging the door open, she said, “Another early morning challenge?” Her words faded away when she noticed Pearl wasn’t alone.

She looked at the producers and then her gaze connected with Pearl’s. She read an expression in them she hadn’t seen before. She’d seen bemusement, she’d seen exasperation, she’d seen impatience. It took her a moment to decipher it, but it hit her like steam being forced from a pressure cooker.

It was worry.

Worry for her.

“What is it?” she whispered. “What’s happened?”

Pearl reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“Your soon-to-be stepfather is on the phone.”

Cassidy pulled an edge of her sheet around her tighter. The producers appeared to be interested in getting a better look at what was or wasn’t beneath it. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Get dressed. We’ll take you to speak with him.” Pearl gently pushed her away from the view of the producers and started to close the door. “We’ll wait for you out here.”

The competition rules were very strict. They were only permitted to take calls during certain hours, and they’d been warned about not discussing the format of the program or its progress. Cell phones weren’t allowed in their rooms under any circumstances to prevent cheating. Cassidy cursed under her breath about the idiocy of her phone being confiscated as she put on the nearest clothing she could find. A T-shirt stained with beetroot, old jeans, and sneakers without socks.

In less than a minute, they were making their way to the producers’ office. Their footsteps in the hallway sounded hollow, as if the sound they made as they bounced off the lilac walls were closing in on her.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s happened?” Cassidy’s voice came out in quick breaths as they made their way quickly downstairs. “It’s my mum, isn’t it? The baby?”

“I don’t know, Cassidy. He refused to tell anyone except you.” Pearl was having trouble keeping up with her.

“No, no, no.” Cassidy was running now, the others several steps behind. She saw a flash of long auburn hair before it disappeared around the corner. As they entered the common room, a producer walked over to her with a wireless phone and placed it in her hand.

Dante appeared from around the same corner she’d seen the woman’s hair and rushed over to Cassidy. “What’s going on?” he said.

Cassidy pointed to the area Dante had come from. “What were you doing with Valerie?”