Off the Menu (36 page)

Maria introduces Patrick, and the two of them fall easily into a bantering interview, with some quips and quotables on both ends. They know each other well, they are comfortable together on camera, and they pretty much ooze charm all over each other. During the second part of the interview, Maria delves into his past, his parents, and his playboy lifestyle. She gets him to open up a little bit, especially about his mother, and while she doesn’t get the full blubber, she does get him to well up just enough for the camera to catch it. My heart breaks for him, and I am reminded once again how amazing my family is and how lucky I am to have them.

They get set up for the cooking demo during the commercial break, and I grab my notes to get ready to walk him
through the recipe. I give him basic instruction, toss him some info about Maria having the dish as a child, and lead him step-by-step through the process. He is a rock star, smooth as silk, and before I know it, he is feeding Maria a bite of the finished stew, and she is rolling her eyes and mumbling things in Spanish. I take a deep breath and let my sphincter unclench. Always an adventure with Patrick.

They get settled back down on the couch for the third interview section, talk about the Master Class he did, and get great quotes from both Joseph and Clara. The kids look great, it is clear that they all got Maria-ed, new clothes and hair and makeup, and now I’m a little bit excited about this photo shoot since it means I’ll get to see them for a few minutes before I have to leave.

After the kids are done speaking, Patrick turns to Maria and says with a grin, “Maria, I want you to know that I have been so moved by the work you are doing with these young people, and I had such a great time teaching that group over there”—he gestures at the students in the front row—“I want to make sure you are able to continue to do this amazing work. So I am creating an endowment for the culinary intern program for ONE MILLION DOLLARS!”

The place erupts, and suddenly a stagehand is delivering one of those enormous cardboard checks to Patrick and Maria.

“Isn’t he amazing?” Maria claps delightedly, and I can tell this is a genuine surprise to her.

I look out at my students, and the guys are high-fiving and the girls are crying, and I can feel a lump rise in my throat. Patrick. I know that he is a celeb and has a lot of money coming in, but he’s no George Clooney, making twenty million a movie. A million dollars isn’t nothing to him; it is significant. For him to make a million dollars liquid is huge, I don’t care
what kind of tax break it will get him. My heart swells. They cut for the commercial break and Patrick walks the big check back over to where I’m standing.

“You’re amazing,” I whisper to him.

“You’re not kidding. Look at the fine print.” He points to the memo portion of the huge check. It says The Patrick Conlon and Alana Ostermann Endowment.

I’m flabbergasted. “Patrick …”

“Hey, I would never have gotten involved if it weren’t for you, and I genuinely loved teaching those kids, even for just one day. I could have been any one of them, and I can only imagine what it might have been like for me growing up if there had been a program like this. I believe in it, and I know it will be great because you were and are a part of making it happen.”

I reach forward and give him a huge hug. “Thank you, Patrick, thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

And in a weird way, him endowing the program in both our names, acknowledging my role, it makes me feel a weight lift from my shoulders. Because I know that if I decide to leave him to work with this organization, he will genuinely understand and wish me well. And that if I decide to stay, I’m staying with someone who would not only make that kind of massive personal financial sacrifice, but would do it in the name of someone he knows would if she could, but cannot.

“Hey, we’re a team, we’re in all of this together.”

Velma gives him the high sign and he kisses the top of my head and scampers back onto the stage for the next part of the interview. Maria facilitates some questions from the audience, Patrick fields a funny marriage proposal from a smitten woman in her eighties, and then she returns to sit
with him on the couch. Then she asks Patrick what he has coming up.

“Well, Maria, I’m very excited to give you an exclusive on that.”

“Rrrrreally? More excitement on top of excitement! We loaf a scoop, what is yourrrrr news?”

“I am officially going to be the new Warrior Chef on
Master Chef Challenge
!”

The audience goes nuts.

“Congrrrrrratulations, Patrick, that is wonderrrrful for you.”

“Not just for me, Maria, but for someone we both know and love.”

Oh. No. Everything slows down, and one by one things click into place.

The clothes, insisted upon by Bennie.

The hair and makeup, supposedly for a photo shoot.

The Cyrano schtick to get me in a mic pack. My stomach clenches up.

“Your former personal chef, one of the teachers in your program, the other name on the new endowment and my right hand, can’t-do-it-without-her girl, Alana Ostermann, is going to be my official sous chef on the show!” Patrick actually gets up on the couch and does a full-on Cruise.

The audience is going crazy. I turn to my left where they have stashed the equipment from the cooking demo, and promptly vomit up my breakfast into the garbage can. Velma, cool as a cucumber, produces a bottle of water as if by magic, and leans over to whisper in my ear. “You can do this, baby girl. There are only seventy-five seconds left. You go out, you smile and wave, you sit on the couch. That is Maria out there,
she loves you, and she will take care of you, just maintain eye contact with her and it will be over before you know it.”

I take a sip of water.

“And she is here today with me, what do you say, everyone, want to meet her?” Patrick is milking this for all it’s worth.

“Alana, come on out,” Maria says.

My feet are leaden, but Velma gives me a little push and I robotically move forward into the bright light of the studio.

I have no idea what happens. I cannot remember one thing that I say or is said to me. I know that Maria asks me a couple of questions, and that the audience laughs at my answers in a way that sounds like they are not laughing at me, but think I am funny. I know Patrick keeps touching my shoulder and putting his arm around me. I know that I am smiling even though I’m filled with a combination of fury and nausea. But ultimately, Velma was right, I just keep looking into Maria’s eyes and it is over quickly, and then I am offstage again. And then we are taking pictures, and all the kids are so excited and eventually my blood pressure returns to normal and my stomach stops doing jumping jacks.

“You werrrrre fantastic, I am so proud of you!” Maria says when the hoopla is finally done.

“How could you do that to me?” I whisper. “You know how I feel about being on television. How could you ambush me like that?”

And she looks at me and her whole face sinks. And I suddenly realize that she didn’t know it was an ambush.

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” I nod my head in Patrick’s direction, where he is saying good-bye to the kids, who are buzzing around him like bees. “He told you I was on board.” No wonder Dana looked at me like I was insane for asking her about my hair and makeup.

“Oh, honey, of courrrrrse he did. I would NEVER do that to you, not in a million …” Her beautiful brown eyes fill with tears.

“It’s okay, Maria, he’s an ass. I should have known it wasn’t you.”

“And on your BIRRRRRRTHDAY!” She wipes at her eyes with a handkerchief, and then launches into what I can only presume is a Cuban curse on Patrick’s manhood and lifespan.

“Hey! My gorgeous ladies! Wasn’t that fun?” Patrick glides in from the green room.

Maria turns on him with venom in her eyes. “No, Patrick, it is not fun to lie to me and upset my best frrrrriend on national television.”

“What are you talking about?” He looks confused.

“Maria, don’t. It doesn’t matter. I have to go, I’ll see you tonight.” I give her a look that tells her clearly that this is my fight, that I need to do this for myself and on my own. She nods and I kiss her cheek. Then I turn to the man who completely swung my emotions from the highest to the lowest in the span of fifteen minutes. “Patrick, car. Now.”

Maria’s show always sends a limo for guests. We walk out to the underground parking garage, and I take deep slow breaths. We get in the car and the driver pulls out. I press the privacy button and raise the window between the front and back seat, and then turn around and sit facing him.

“How could you do that?”

Patrick reaches into the little cooler near him and grabs a bottle of water. “Do what?”

“Announce that I am going to be with you on
Master Chef Challenge
, make me come out on the show without telling me about it.”

“I thought it would be a fun surprise, and the network
thought it was brilliant. And I didn’t tell you because you would have said no.”

It boggles the mind. “If you KNEW I would say no, why the FUCK would you think I would be okay with a freaking AMBUSH?”

“Look, the network knew I was going on the show and wanted me to announce it exclusively to Maria. I called and told Maria that we should introduce you as well, so that people can start to see us as a team. Maria said you had stage fright and she was surprised you were going to do the show, and I said not to worry, that you’re a trooper and are on board.”

“But I’m NOT, Patrick. I’m not on board. I told you I had to think about it, I haven’t committed to do the show at all.”

“But you are going to.”

“I might not.”

“Of course you will. Come on, Alana, of course you will. You’ll never get a better offer. And now you’ve broken your television cherry and you can see it’s no big deal. And that was with a studio audience, on
Challenge
you just have to be there with the crew and staff and judges.”

He thinks he did me a favor. Like a parent teaching their kid to swim by chucking them into the pool. “Patrick, I want to be very clear about something. This was not a favor, and it wasn’t about me. This was about you assuming that you’ll always get what you want. That you are somehow entitled to have everything fall at your feet. But let me be clear. I have not yet committed to this show, and I have very grave concerns about what it would mean for me and my life. You can’t just railroad over me, and you can’t do things like you did today. It was thoughtless and selfish and enormously upsetting.” I know I’m going cry, and I can’t let him see it.
I have to stay grounded. I roll down the barrier and ask the driver to pull over at the next intersection. “Do me a favor, Patrick. Don’t come tonight. You have done a great deal to ruin my birthday already, and it is going to take me most of the rest of today to try to ignore how furious and hurt I am by your disregard of me and my feelings.”

“C’mon, Alana, isn’t that a little dramatic? I’m sorry if I handled this wrong, but it isn’t that big a deal. You know you’ll be sad if I’m not at your party.”

“Patrick, the best present you can give me tonight is your absence. You are very genuinely not welcome, and I can tell you for sure that if you do come, we are done. I mean it. I need a couple of days.”

His jaw flops open, and I know that he finally realizes that I’m serious.

“I’m getting out here,” I say to the driver, who gets out of the car and walks around to open the door.

“Alana …” Patrick starts, but I put my hand up.

“Don’t.” I get out of the car, cross the street and hail a cab. And to my credit, I don’t start to cry until we are a block away.

Maria calls just as I get home, and I sit on the stoop to chat with her before I go in.

“Arrrrre you okay,
mi amorrrrr
? I feel just terrrrrrible.”

“I’m okay, Maria, I am. I gave Patrick what for, and uninvited him to the party tonight. I just need some space.”

“Good forrrrrr you. That son ov a beetch.”

“Indeed.”

“But you will be okay? I feel so awful that this happened on your birrrthday.”

“I will be fine. If I let Patrick Conlon and his inane pranks ruin my lovely birthday then I am an even bigger idiot than he is. Bennie and I are going for a whole afternoon at the spa,
and then the party is tonight, and nothing is going to ruin that for me.”

“Good girrrrl.”

“And don’t trouble yourself, Maria, you couldn’t know. I’m not at all angry with you or your team.”

“I feel better. And you have a rrrrrelaxing day and I will see you tonight.”

“Thanks, Maria.”

“I loaf you, Alana.”

I laugh. “I loaf you too.”

I take a deep breath and open the door, waiting for Dumpling to come greet me before remembering that he is boarding overnight at Best Friends today so that I don’t have to worry about walking him after the party, and so that RJ and I can have a quiet, romantic night and a good sleep-in tomorrow morning. I drop my work bag, go to the bathroom to clean off the television makeup and make sure it doesn’t look like I’ve been crying. I shoot an e-mail to Rachel to let her know that despite what it might look like on television, I have not made any final decision about her job offer, that it is still my intention to meet with her next month to discuss it further, and that I am still giving it every consideration. I call RJ and fill him in, and he is perfectly disgusted on my behalf and asks if I want him to beat Patrick up. I laugh and say no, but he is in charge of getting rid of Patrick if he shows up tonight. He agrees to play bouncer if I need him to and tells me he loves me and will pick me and Bennie up at six thirty, and that he will do his best to help turn the birthday around. I tell him he already has, and then I head out to meet Bennie at the Peninsula, where I am sure that the masseuse is going to have her hands very full trying to unclench my back.

Lucky for me, nothing bad can happen to you at the
Peninsula Spa. Bennie and I spend the afternoon in a festival of bliss. Tea and snacks in the relaxation lounge. Facials to make our skin glowy, body treatments to make our limbs silky, hot stone massages. Then a primpfest of mani-pedis and blow outs. By the time we leave, I feel like a new woman, and the stress of the morning seems like it happened a long time ago to someone else. My face is smooth and dewy, my body feels all loose and noodly and as soft as a baby’s tush. My traditionally unruly hair looks like a Breck-girl commercial, shiny and smooth and bouncy. Bennie is staying at Maria’s, but brought her stuff with her to get ready at my place. While we dress and put on our makeup, I chastise her for her part in the fiasco, but it turns out she didn’t know either; she just genuinely thought I should wear nicer clothes on my birthday. I fill her in on the whole morning, the job dilemma, Patrick’s ridiculous behavior.