Take Me Home Tonight (30 page)

“For Laney? You don't even know her.”

“For getting Gus the job. For suggesting Terrence produce your album. I stuck my nose in where it didn't belong. He kept telling me to mind my own business, and I just kept pushing.” Why hadn't she listened to him?

“He's upset,” Derek said. “He'll be fine tomorrow.”

Cooper nodded toward the door. “Come on. I'll give you a ride to the train station.”

“You sure?”

“You bet. Fuckin' hate hospitals.”

Her friends surrounded her with hugs and good wishes, and then she took off in a race into the city.

*   *   *

“With
thirty minutes on the clock,” Verna Bloom said. “Eleanor and Mimi, let's see what kind of dessert you can
make with a box of macaroni and cheese, a papaya, Indonesian cassia sticks, and an ostrich egg. Ready ladies? Go.”

Fear ticked like a bomb inside Mimi's chest.

But damn it all to hell, she had to sweep the negativity out and focus.

Head in the game.

With the four ingredients placed on the counter before her, she saw only the stiff backs of the Bourbon family in the ER. She couldn't stop thinking about the look passed between Calix and Shay, his silent request to keep Mimi away.

Her friends thought he'd get over it, wake up tomorrow after he'd calmed down and come back to her. But they hadn't looked into those cold eyes.

Was it over? Even though Gus was fine—Violet had texted to let her know he'd come out with only a broken wrist and some pretty bad scrapes and bruises—Calix hadn't contacted her. So it wasn't fear for his brother's life that had him pushing her away. No, it had to be anger that she'd dragged his family back into the world that threatened his mom.

When Eleanor raced past her to get to the refrigerator, Mimi snapped out of her thoughts.

Get your head in the damn game.

Macaroni and cheese . . . turn this into a dessert? Papaya. Cassia sticks—that was basically cinnamon. And the egg was good.
This single ingredient will bind, leaven, emulsify, thicken, clarify, and coat.

Thank you, Jo
.

She could do this. She'd spent the whole week working on desserts. Why couldn't she get her mind to engage? Because she hadn't lost some guy she'd been dating. She'd lost a man she truly, deeply, and thoroughly loved.

She'd gotten so close with Lee. Jo, too. Did Lee blame her, too? Did they
all
blame her? A sickening feeling passed over her.

Stop it.

She looked up. Took in the studio audience, the judges—and found Zoe staring at her.

And it flipped a switch. Snapped her right out of it.

Okay, macaroni and cheese. She tore open the box, ripped
open the packet of noodles, and dumped them in the food processor. She pulsed those suckers into powder.

She'd add some flour to it.

And then images started flooding in. Ricotta cheese. Lemon. Orange zest. She headed for the refrigerator, grabbed some milk, the cheese, and club soda. She'd purée the papaya, use it as a sauce. She could picture the brilliant orange-yellow color against the white plate and knew she'd use it as a drizzle, too. Beautiful. She'd get that syrup going right now.

“Twenty minutes on the clock, ladies. Twenty minutes.”

Oh, crap. She'd lost ten minutes. Mimi got out a skillet, dropped a few pats of butter in it, and reached for a bowl. She'd make three small
crespelles
and then deep-fry them. But the moment she realized she was making
cannoli
, fear plucked her spine. Nothing Italian, dammit. Screw it. She'd already lost too much time. Had to do something she could pull off. Maybe she'd lose points for innovation, but she'd blow the judges away with presentation and quick thinking. And it would taste awesome.

She beat the egg, added milk, salt, and melted butter. Then, she added the flour. Not knowing what would happen if she didn't let the batter stand, she decided to go for it anyhow and quickly poured it into the heated skillet. Too runny.
Keep going
.

After grinding the cassia sticks, she grabbed a bowl and mixed the ricotta, vanilla, some milk, sugar, a squeeze of lemon, and some orange zest. She beat the egg and added it.

While flipping the crepes, she thought about the forms. What could she use that would withstand the heat yet pull easily out of the
cannolis
? She really couldn't think of anything other than foil. But it had to be heavy-duty or it wouldn't hold its shape.

Turning back to the papaya, she cut it in half, scraped out the seeds, and pureed it. Quickly straining it, she added it to a sauce pan with sugar and a squeeze of lemon. Very low flame. It couldn't burn while she tended to something else.

Removing the
crespelle
from the skillet—
too thin
—she wrapped each one around the foil dowel. As she set them into
the deep fryer, she knew Jo would be disappointed that she'd gone with something Italian, but it couldn't be helped. She'd wasted precious time worrying about Calix.

Thank God Emmie and the baby were okay. Thank God Gus had nothing worse than a broken wrist.

And . . . wait a damn minute. What exactly had she done that was so bad? The accident happened because he'd hooked up with—and moved in with—a freaking nymph.

Mimi had gotten him a
job
. She'd given him an
opportunity
. One he'd desperately wanted.

Screw Calix. She knew how upset he'd been—worst fears realized. She understood that. But rejecting her?
Blaming
her?

Of course, she didn't know what he was thinking since he wouldn't talk to her.
Dick.

“Ten minutes, ladies,” Verna said. “Ten minutes on the clock.”

Oh, crap. She'd lost her focus again.
I can do this
. Pulling out three white plates, she found confectioner's sugar and looked around for something green. Mint, perfect.

No, wait, dammit. She couldn't do a drizzle and sprig again. Think,
think.
Glancing across Verna's kitchen, her gaze caught on a huge bouquet of deep red roses on a countertop. The image of those petals against the brilliant orange-yellow of the papaya fired in her mind.

Dashing away from her station, she snatched one stem from the vase, pulled a spray of baby's breath, and hurried back. Verna said something, the audience laughed, but Mimi shut it out.

Crap. How long had the
crespelle
been in the deep fryer? They looked nicely browned, so she pulled them out. Time to remove the dowels . . . but the crepes were so thin.

Please don't break, please don't—

A shell cracked. Damn shaking hands.
Forget it. Put the cracked side down on the plate
. She spooned the filling into each one, poured papaya sauce in two pools on each plate and arranged the rose petals on it. Gorgeous. Setting the
cannoli
in the center, she dusted each one with confectioner's sugar.

Something was still missing. Green. She set a floret of mint in the center of the petals, and she was done.

“Time's up, ladies,” Verna said. “Hands off.”

Mimi stepped back. Her clothes stuck to her with perspiration, and her whole body trembled. But she'd done it.

Holy crap, that had been close.

And now to face the firing squad.

*   *   *

“Chef
Alonso?” Verna said.

Even as Mimi cursed herself for forgetting the sweet Marsala, she reminded herself that the judges had deemed Eleanor's gorgeous dessert tasteless, so she still had a chance.

“I think I've tasted heaven,” the chef said. “This filling is divine. Absolutely divine. I'm going to give you a four for quick thinking, because even though you were a little slow off the mark, you managed to pull together a lovely dish. A five, as always, for your gorgeous presentation. And a five for innovation because you took a box of macaroni and turned it into a scrumptious
cannoli
.”

Relief swept through her so hard, her knees went weak. “Thank you so much.”

“Mr. Simmons?” Verna said. “Who, I just want to point out, basically licked the plate clean.”

“It was quite tasty.” The man gave a boyish grin.

The audience laughed.

“Well, I thought this was terrific. The orange zest in the filling, the perfect crunch to the shell, I'm giving you fives across the board because, Mimi Romano, you dazzle me.”

Maybe it was Calix's stunning rejection, or maybe just the crash after the race to perform, but tears blurred her vision. “Thank you.” She could barely get the words out. She wanted to walk into that man's arms and sag against him.

If only her dad were so easily dazzled.

Was he watching right now? Was his team? At least she hadn't made a fool out of herself. But she had to win the competition and score the apprenticeship or she'd have no hope of working with him.

“Chef Zoe?”

Mimi held her breath. This woman would determine her
fate. With the high scores she'd gotten from the men, she could afford a few of Zoe's low ones. She just didn't know how tough this judge would be on her.

She only knew failure wouldn't get her a job at Dino Romano and Associates.

“The best thing I can say about this dish is the presentation. You finally moved beyond a drizzle and a sprig. But you basically shoved warm ricotta into a hot shell.” Zoe stuck fork tines in the flat filling. “The taste might be excellent, but the texture's like baby food.” She sighed, shaking her head. “A
cannoli
? I have to say I'm disappointed. I wanted to see you venture outside your comfort zone, but you didn't. You gave me exactly what I expected. I'm going to give you a one for innovation. I'm also going to give you a one for quick thinking, and I'll tell you why. You froze. I saw it—we all saw it. And in a fast-paced kitchen, there's no room for that. You zone out and someone gets hurt. And a four for presentation.” She held Mimi's gaze. “You finally impressed me. It's beautiful.”

Her blood turned cold. One point less than Eleanor. Everything in her yearned to find Calix in the audience, seek out the confidence and support he'd always given her. But he wasn't there.

She'd lost him, and she'd lost the competition.

“Thank you, Chef Zoe.” She looked to the other judges and then Verna Bloom. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

And with that, Mimi walked off the stage.

*   *   *

“I
lost, Mom.” Mimi's feet ached as she made her way down Avenue of the Americas. Her body felt so sluggish, she wanted to curl up in the vestibule of a bank's ATM station.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. You gave it your very best shot. You just couldn't get around that one judge.”

“She was right.” And that hurt the most. “I knew not to make something Italian, but I did it anyway.”

“Across the board, the judges loved the taste of your food. Isn't that what matters?”

“No, Mom. That's not what matters at all. I
lost
.” Which
meant she either went to Miami or she tried something different.

But this competition
was
trying something different, and she'd failed. So trying again would put off getting a real job even longer.
Enough already
. She'd graduated business school over a year ago. “I'm taking the job.”

“What job?”

“In Miami.”

“Maybe this isn't the best time to be making important decisions. Give yourself a break.”

“That's what I've been doing. I took a really long break, and now it's time to get back to work.” And funny enough, she was ready. After going hard her whole life, she'd needed this time cooking and goofing off on a wildflower farm on the tip of Long Island. She'd had a great time. But she was ready to get back on track. Have a real purpose.

“What about Calix? If you go to Miami, you'll lose him.”

A stab of pain punctured her brief moment of resolution. “I already lost him.” Mimi faltered, looking for a bench, anywhere to sit for just a moment. She couldn't bear all she'd lost.

“I wouldn't write him off so soon.”

“You weren't there. You didn't see the way he looked at me.”

“I'm not sure he
was
seeing you. From what you've told me, I'm quite sure he was seeing his brother get hit by a car and then seeing his mother's reaction to another son's life in jeopardy. You might want to give him a moment to settle down.”

“Okay, but Gus is fine, and I still haven't heard from him.” Passing a homeless man parked on a cardboard mat against the filthy stone wall of a high-rise, Mimi reached into her pocket and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. The smell of hot dogs from a street vendor filled the air. She looked at the street sign to see how far she'd gone. She was miles from home.

“You said something interesting not long ago. You said if he takes his eyes off his family and something goes wrong, he'll never forgive himself.”

“Right.”

“Did he take his eyes off his family to spend time with you?”

Fear slammed her, and she lost her rhythm, nearly stumbling. “Yes. He spent the night with me. He's never done that before. He always goes home to make sure his mom gets something to eat before she goes to bed. Last night he stayed over.”

“So, he doesn't blame
you
. He blames himself for spending so much time with you.”

She sucked in a breath. “Mom.”
Oh, God
.

“What?”

“He thinks the reason Hopper died is because he got selfishly carried away with his band. Hopper wasn't going to grow up and be the independent man Calix was, and he felt so much guilt about that. So right when he was about to get a record contract and truly separate from his family, Hopper died.”