Fire In the Kitchen (8 page)

“Nice to meet you, Carlos. I guess I’d better find out where I’ll be sleeping.”

“I’ll walk you over there,” he said. This time he didn’t offer physical contact.

As they walked through the main entrance, Cassidy saw the same woman working the desk who’d been the registrar the day before. She waved to her, but Pearl didn’t appear to notice. Between Cassidy and the desk were several men with loud voices to match their confidence. Cassidy knew the dynamics would change when they saw her, so she stood back to absorb what she was up against. Carlos stood beside her and feigned interest in an oversized picture of a garlic bulb.

“There’s thirty of us,” an overweight chef announced. “Pretty good odds.”

“Heard that could be seriously culled by the end of the week. Harsh judges.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Around.”

“There are two of us to a room.”

“Johno snores.”

“I bags shacking up with Blondie.”

“That’s all she’ll be good for.”

“You’ve got to admit, she’s pretty inviting.”

“Can’t believe the judges chose her, though. I thought this was a serious competition.”

Cassidy coughed loudly and the lobby went silent. Considering she was the only blonde female in the competition, she knew they were talking about her. They weren’t worth it, she thought. Without missing a beat, she held her head high and deliberately walked through the group instead of around them.

“What’s cookin’, guys?” she said. “Sautéed egos?”

The few steps she walked toward the reception desk seemed to cover a few miles. She grasped the desk to steady herself and her nerves and smiled weakly at the registrar.

“I’d like to go to my room ASAP, and please
please
tell me I don’t have to share with any of those Neanderthals, or it won’t be pretty.”

Pearl pursed her lips.

“It’s not going to get any easier, you know. Toughen up.” She handed her a large envelope. “You’re in room 12E, which is a single room. You’re lucky, the other dozen girls opted to share. Please read the information carefully. It contains your schedule and, more importantly, the rules you must adhere to.”

“What sort of rules?” Cassidy scrunched up her nose and opened the flap to glance inside. “Please don’t tell me I have a bedtime. That would be just too disgusting.”

“It’s all in the envelope, but I do believe you have to get up at five most mornings, so that should dictate what time you go to bed, if you’re sensible.” She pushed her glasses down her nose and looked at Cassidy. “Mary Poppins isn’t going to tell you when that should be, so don’t blow it.”

“Yes, boss.” Cassidy held her hands in a praying position. “I seem to be outnumbered and in need of some non-competitive company to keep me sane. Wanna catch up for coffee later? I do a great macchiato.”

“And that would really put you to sleep, wouldn’t it? I’m not allowed to socialize with the contestants, so thank you but no.” Pearl pursed her lips. “Most of those chefs enjoy receiving praise, so if you don’t want to be alone through this, just tell them how fantastic you think they all are. Fake it to make it.”

“Not my style.”

Cassidy saw the glint in the older woman’s eyes and knew there was more to come.

“Well, it’s either that, or the promoters have given you all butcher knives as welcoming gifts,” she whispered. “You could use them early.”

“Thanks, Pearl, that sounds more like it. I’ve brought a few of my own—even sharper than their supposed wit.”

The woman wrote something on a notepad, tore the sheet off, and folded it twice before handing it over. “I forgot to include one last piece of information in your pack. Read it later. Your room is up the stairs, third floor, second door on the left. Now get out of here, missy, I’ve got work to do.”

Cassidy went back to the entrance for her heavy suitcase, delivered by her future stepfather when he’d dropped her off. She pulled it to the staircase and looked up, wondering if there was a lift she could use instead of dragging it up one long step at a time. If there wasn’t an elevator, the stairs were going to become her torment, along with the
delightful
chefs behind her. She put down her bags, unfolded the note Pearl had given her and read it.

Don’t let the bastards get you down.

*

Whenever Dante was near Cassidy, he felt a protective pull. He wanted to look after her, but she’d already made it clear she didn’t need a caretaker. He stood unnoticed and watched the scene before him. He’d heard what they’d said about her and had been about to join them to defend her, but he’d seen she didn’t need his help. She’d spoken to the chefs with such a pleasant tone, he was sure her insult had gone over some of their heads. Creative cooking wasn’t her only talent.

His cousin Carlos was taking center stage for all the wrong reasons. He was bragging about his latest challenge that had a name.
Cassidy
.

Dante saw her dragging her suitcase up the stairs, so heavy it must have contained a hundred cookbooks. He made his way toward the stairs to assist her when Carlos saw what he was about to do.

“Cassidy.” Carlos’ loud voice carried far. “Want to catch up some more later? Just you and me?”

Cassidy took a few more steps and turned. Dante felt a whoosh of sunshine spread through his body. She had something over him, around him, and inside him that wasn’t going to go away.

“I think I’m going to be a while,” she called back. “Maybe some other time.” Her voice had a hesitant edge.

“Need a hand?” Carlos passed Dante to the base of the stairs and held onto the end of the banister.

“No thanks, I’m good.”

She made her way up the first flight, her suitcase thumping down hard on every step. At last, she reached the top of the first set and pulled her case around a corner and out of everyone’s view. The sound of the banging suitcase started up again and Dante realized she must have reached the second set of stairs. The sounds became further and further apart, the gutsy lady had obviously let her guard down once out of sight and was moving up the rest of the stairs at a slower pace.

“I’ll catch up with you, young lady,
after
lights out,” Carlos said for the benefit of his male audience, knowing she would be out of earshot. They patted him on the back and continued to make derogatory comments about her.

Dante ignored them and turned around to walk to the registration desk.

“Good morning, Pearl. Nice to see a delightful face in an unattractive crowd.”

“Why, Dante, you’re a pleasure for my old eyes.” She put out her hand and Dante dutifully kissed it before she retrieved it. “Aren’t they horrible?”

He leaned over and spoke conspiratorially, “Only when off-camera. You’re looking lovely as ever.”

Pearl laughed a long, raspy laugh, suggesting she may have been a chain smoker in her day. “Just say the word and I’ll divorce George,” she said. “We’ve only been together for forty years, he won’t notice.”

Dante smiled. “Do you have my cell key? And who are my inmates?”

“Oh, Dante, you are terrible.” Pearl smoothed back her tinted blue hairdo. “We’ve done it in alphabetical order to avoid complications.”

“Does that mean I’m sharing with my cousin?”

Pearl looked at her clipboard. “Sure does. He hasn’t checked in yet. He’s too busy making a fool of himself.”

Dante frowned. “He has a habit of eating foods that…er…don’t agree with him, if you get my gist. He can get a bit noisy at night. Any chance of…”

“How disgusting.” Pearl shook her head. “I can’t help you with that I’m afraid. It came from up above, from what I’ve heard. Maybe it wasn’t a random decision after all.”

“Don’t let the truth get in the way of good ratings?”

“Something like that.”

“Um, can you tell me what room Cassidy Summers is in?”

Pearl’s rasping laugh returned. “Ah,” she said. “I’ve been traded in for a younger model. She’s on the top floor like you, but on the opposite side of the building. Let me see.” She pointed to the rooms on the floor plan. “You are on the other end of the building. If you look out your window, because the building is curved, you should be directly opposite and able to wave to her.”

Dante thanked her and collected his information pack. He turned toward the staircase and almost bumped into his cousin because he was standing so close.

Eavesdropper.

Carlos crossed his arms.

“So
glad
you could join us.
Not.
This competition’s a bit below your league, isn’t it? Couldn’t stand to let me have this one simple thing?”

“You threw down the gauntlet,” Dante said, feeling the vein in his neck start to throb. “All I’m trying to do is repair what you broke.”

“Can’t stand for me to be in the spotlight?” Carlos replied. “Wouldn’t want me to shine without you?”

Several chefs had gathered behind him, interested in Dante’s response. Dante’s voice was low, almost a rumble, and the words were only for his cousin’s ears.

“While I was in Italy, you damaged my restaurant’s name by deliberately going against everything I believed in. You purchased food that wasn’t from our local suppliers, you served food that didn’t have an Italian influence, and you poisoned the majority of my staff against me with lies. You created a media circus at my expense.”

Carlos stood back and put his palms out.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m checking in and checking out of this conversation.”

Dante shook his room key at him, exposing the room number 29.

“After you’ve checked in, we’ll continue our private conversation in
our
room.”

* * * *

Even with the unanticipated cameramen waiting for him, it had taken Dante less than twenty seconds to absorb his new home away from home. Small, impersonal room, tiny en suite bathroom. The space had been designed for practicality rather than aesthetics: single bed, bookcase, desk, lamp, rubbish bin. The walls, ceiling, door, and even the quilt were eggshell white. Had he been
committed
, he wondered, to match his inner commitment to being successful in the competition?

He pulled open the drapes and looked down at the garden that had been planted months before in readiness for this television series. He watched the water shoot above the water feature in powerful bursts before cascading down the reversed letters and resting in the pond below. It was stunning to watch.

For reasons unknown to him, he looked up.

Looking at the window directly across from his, he found himself staring at Cassidy, the woman who’d been in the bold border of his thoughts since they’d met. They waved at each other.

Damn, that woman can release some serious feel-good hormones.

Dante let go of the curtain and turned his alert gaze to the camera crew.

“You must have a lot of other welcoming interviews to do. Shall we get straight into it?”

An eager young man held up his finger as he watched a cameraman getting his equipment ready.

“Sure, just waiting on…”

“Me?” Carlos leaned into the open doorway with a casual pose that appeared rehearsed.

“Yes, how about we get you both facing each other in a stance ready for battle?”

The man held his hands out in front of him and pushed his palms to and fro indicating they should move closer to each other. He reached into a bag. “Maybe put on these chef’s hats?”

“Pistols at brawn?” Dante raised an eyebrow and waited for Carlos to walk over to him.

“Food joke! You’re a crack up, Dante.” The interviewer slapped his leg and put the hats on Dante and Carlos at interesting angles. “Can you say that again when I say roll?”

“Yeah, a real ham,” Carlos said, pursing his lips as he watched Dante straighten his hat with military precision.

This time the interviewer and cameraman laughed together.

“Brawn, ham, love it. Keep up the banter during the interview and all will be sweet.”

The cameraman held up three fingers, lowering them one at a time as he counted down. The one was silent.

The interview went as Dante wanted it to, and he repeated his quip on cue. His war with Carlos was a private one for now, and the less collateral damage the better. After Dante had walked the cameramen to the door at the end of the interview, he turned to face his nemesis. Carlos was grinning at him as if he’d never tried to ruin Dante’s life.

“Time for a quick drink before we settle in for the night?”

“That was just for show, Carlos. I haven’t finished with you by a long shot.”

“Let’s put this on hold until after the competition,” Carlos said, holding out his hand for Dante to shake. “I’ve got a lot riding on this.”

Dante stared at the outstretched hand as if it carried a disease. “Why have you always tried to ruin what I have when I’ve always been willing to share everything with you?” he said.

Carlos let his hand drop and smoothed back his hair. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Dante put his hand on the chair, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Let me see,” Dante said, letting out a loud breath. “How about the way I left you to run the restaurant while I was away and you ran me into the ground instead?”

“I managed just fine,” Carlos responded smoothly. “Profits were up.”

“And staff loyalty toward me was down. Particularly after you fired my oldest team members and told them I’d left instructions for you to do so.”

Dante felt the room get hotter. He opened the window, hoping for another glance of Cassidy to distract him from where this conversation was heading, but he was out of luck. He turned around to face Carlos again.

“Why, Carlos? Why did you stop ordering local food from our family and friends? Why did you twist my causes around and tell so many lies?”

“I just said it like I saw it.” Carlos crossed his arms and started to rub them. “I see many things without even having to look, and I could see there was a lot more money to be made if we bought and hired smarter.”

“Your invisible glasses need cleaning, and they should be put away with your lost morals.” Dante grabbed his suitcase and tossed the items into the drawers by his bed. “Don’t traditions mean anything to you?”