Sweet Reality by Laura Heffernan (8)

Jen in the Guppy Gabber, Monday:

 

 

 

 

About half an hour later one of the production assistants, a tall woman with short, curly brown hair framing her heart-shaped face, appeared. She introduced herself as Janine and led us to the Lido Deck for the competition. I tried to assure her that we didn’t require an escort to go to the place we’d already visited about eleven times, but she insisted she’d get fired for letting us walk alone.

When we got to the pool area for the contest, people swarmed the deck. Having someone to lead me through the crowd suddenly seemed much better. Janine took us to Leanna, who pointed out a row of judges’ tables for us. Three tables. Tiny, one-person tables. One for Danielle, who hadn’t mentioned she was also judging, one for Wyatt from Season 2 of The Marrying Kind, and one marked “Jen and Justin.”

“Wait a minute. Why do we only have one chair?” Justin asked.

“Well, since the two of you are a couple, you’re acting as one judge.” Leanna said.

The two of us exchanged a look. “You mean, my vote’s only worth half as much as the other judges?” Justin asked.

“Look, the two of you together are a huge draw. Everyone loves Justin and Jen, the couple who ran away from the Fishbowl together. Apart, you’re not as exciting. It’s like the Q&A. More people come out to see the two of you. Sorry, but also, not sorry at all.”

With each word she spoke, my boyfriend’s face reddened more. He didn’t like losing his identity, and if we shared one chair, no one would see him with me perched in his lap.

“Is it really necessary to give us only one chair?” I asked. “I mean, even if we have to talk before voting, can’t we each have our own place to sit? That way, Justin can eat without dropping crumbs in my hair.”

Leanna sighed. “I can’t even. You two still like each other, right? But, whatever. If you can find another chair, you can have it. I don’t have time to deal with this.”

Justin left to grab a chair from one of the giant stacks less than twenty feet away, which told me the Network was just trying to stir up trouble. Clearly, they had enough chairs. Ah, ratings.

I started to say something to Leanna, but she’d already moved away, on to finish the setup. I stuck my tongue out at her back. Mature, I know.

The other contestants stood behind a second row of tables lined up beside the pool: Ed; the girl whose stroller Ariana was watching the first day; a thirty-something guy I didn’t recognize; and Tabby Rangoon. She stood out at the table as the only one wearing six-inch heels and a flaming red wig. Plus, who could forget an Asian drag queen named Tabby Rangoon? Not me. I found myself hoping her creation would be deep-fried, with cream cheese filling. My mouth watered as I thought about it.

Originally, I considered signing up for the contest to gain publicity for the bakery, but didn’t want Tammy Rae to bring up my audition video. Besides, Sarah was the baker in our little organization: my “old family cookie recipe” came preprinted on the bag of chocolate chips. But it had been used by several generations of Reid women, dating to whenever Nestle started printing recipes on their bags.

The judges’ smaller tables arced around the deep end of the pool, and beach chairs filled the rest of the patio area. To my surprise, I spotted Ariana on one of those chairs, sunning herself.

Finding her lying out tanning came as no surprise; she spent half her time on The Fishbowl doing exactly that. No, what struck me as odd was her skirt, which reached nearly to her knees. I also didn’t understand why she’d be at a bake-off in the first place when she wasn’t participating. From the look of her, she hadn’t eaten a bite in months.

A baby’s cry split the air, and I realized Ariana had been sitting with her friend from the elevator. Madison or something. At least Ariana hadn’t come to see us. If she knew Justin and I were judging, I hoped she wore something under her skirt. I wouldn’t put it past her to pull a Paris Hilton on my boyfriend.

To my surprise, the older woman rose when the contestants were announced, her hands flying through the air with each word from Tammy Rae. Finally, I recognized the young girl as Madison, star of Deaf Teen Mother. The show was about to enter its second season. That explained both why she brought a baby on a cruise and why she ignored me in the elevator. She probably saw me and Ariana talking and didn’t want to interrupt. She couldn’t have known I’d been about to introduce myself. Ariana stayed with the baby, whose name I didn’t know, while Madison joined the competition and introduced herself to the audience.

The guy I didn’t recognize turned out to be Braden, from Season 3 of The Marrying Kind. He’d made history by changing his mind after the final episode, dumping the girl he originally chose and proposing to someone else halfway through the reunion episode. He and his bride, Amanda Something, were scheduled to get married on the air sometime next year. According to Ed, we’d probably all be invited, just to fill the seats with, as he called it, “Reality Royalty.”

Tammy Rae explained the rules: Each contestant had been allowed into the kitchens individually earlier to “shop” for ingredients. Now, they’d get access to a hot plate, a toaster oven, and a microwave. They would get one hour to create a delicious dessert for the three judging teams.

I glanced at Justin when Tammy Rae referred to us as a “judging team” rather than as two separate judges, and he raised an eyebrow at me. The Network’s ploy didn’t really bother me, since they were footing the bill, but I understood his frustration. I nudged his knee with mine under the table, and he kissed my cheek. Someone in the audience “awwed,” and I blushed. More than a year after our show ended, I’d forgotten how it felt to be constantly on display until we arrived onboard.

Tammy Rae further explained that, when she called time, we’d taste each of the final products and judge them, one at a time. Each creation would receive a score on a scale of one to ten, and the entry with the highest overall score won a bottle of champagne from the ship’s gift shop, plus dinner for two at one of the fancy restaurants onboard. Ed smiled when she announced the prize. The reality star cruisers were allowed in those restaurants, but only if we wanted to pay for the dinners, and most of us didn’t. Not when they offered free food all over the ship, including in our cabins via twenty-four-hour room service.

While the contestants measured, stirred, and worked the crowd, Justin pulled me close, his hands moving up and down my sides. His lips tickled the side of my neck, sending chills down my spine, before resting against my ear lobe. “Hmmm. Maybe sharing a chair wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Come closer.”

With a happy sigh, I leaned against him, still mostly sitting on my own chair. “It’s too late now. You ruined our chance.”

“I know. I’m dumb. It’s just that the idea of being only half a person bugged me. It’s like we don’t exist as individuals outside of this relationship. I’m no one without you.”

“Without me, you’re still Justin Taylor, loving son, world’s best twin brother, and devastatingly handsome lawyer-to-be.”

“This doesn’t bug you at all? I’d have thought you’d be pissed.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I should be, but this week is just a tiny slice of our life together. It’s not real. When we go home, none of this matters. The Network is trying to add drama to get better ratings. I’m trying not to let them profit at the expense of our relationship.”

“This is why you’re the smart one,” he said.

His words from before came back to me, and I realized what frustrated him. “This isn’t about the chair, right? You’re still worried about your parents? And the bar results?”

He nodded, keeping one eye on Tammy Rae for our cue to pay attention. When he spoke, his voice was low. “I’m trying not to worry, but what if I don’t pass? I’ll have to wait until February to take the test again, and I’ll probably get fired. Mom and Dad are living off their savings and Mom’s disability until Dad’s worker’s comp settlement comes in. How can I help if I lose my income?”

My heart went out to him. He had a lot on his mind. Keeping everything inside must be taking a huge toll on him. An overwhelming rush of love hit me. I moved closer, letting my breasts brush against his bicep as I pressed my lips into his neck. From the way his breath caught, he definitely felt the same jolt of electricity I did at the contact. If we didn’t find some alone time soon, our libidos were going to explode when we finally made it home.

“You’re not going to get fired,” I said quietly. “Your bosses love you. If you don’t pass, they’ll give you another chance. Besides, you’re a genius, remember? You got a twenty-three hundred on your SATs. The Florida State Bar Exam is nothing to you.”

He smiled against my ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the day with this stuff. Want to take off?”

“Abandon the contest?”

“Well, Ed’s over there baking away, and Dominic’s never around, so the cabin should be empty.” His voice trailed off, and he wiggled his eyebrows at me suggestively.

For a long moment, I was tempted. We hadn’t seen each other in days before the trip, and wouldn’t be alone again until Sunday. Sneaking off for a quickie might be just what the doctor ordered. Alas, duty called. We could have all the sex we wanted back in Florida, on Justin’s comfortable king-sized mattress, rather than a twin bunkbed where my ex-boyfriend could walk in at any minute.

I chuckled and kissed his cheek. “Nice try, Romeo. I need to get this recipe, which means I can’t piss Tammy Rae off by abandoning my post. Besides, I have to taste these coconut wonders before I spend all week sucking up to her. What if they’re gross?”

“The ones Sarah made weren’t half bad.”

“True, but we can’t build a business on ‘not half bad.’ We watched the finale a hundred times this week to figure out what she was doing, but our cupcakes still aren’t as light and fluffy as the ones everyone raved over on the show.”

“Did you ever consider that the whole thing was over-hyped for TV?”

“Of course not. That never happens.” I rolled my eyes at him. “We know it could be a red herring. But since we’re here, I need a cupcake. And hopefully a recipe. If I don’t get it, I have to do the floors for the next month to make up for leaving Sarah right before our grand opening.”

The cupcakes in question sat on a platter about five feet from the judge’s table, little bits of chocolatey goodness piled high with coconut frosting and sprinkled with toasted coconut. With all the chlorine and sunscreen in the air, I couldn’t get a whiff of the promise they held, but they looked exactly like what I’d seen on TV.

Hopefully, when I bit into it, I’d find moist, fluffy chocolate cake and coconut filling. Every time Sarah tried to make something similar, it fell apart, or it turned out too dense. It could be a matter of proportion, but Tammy Rae had gone on and on about her “secret ingredient” while she made the cupcakes, going so far as to cover the camera when she added something from a brown paper bag to the mixing bowl before adding the rest of the dry ingredients. That bag held the key to the cupcakes’ texture. And I was determined to find out her secret, by whatever means necessary.

“Okay!” Tammy Rae said from the deck in front of the pool. “Let’s see what our contestants came up with. Contestant number 1? What did you make for us?”

Tabby stepped forward. “This dessert was inspired by my favorite movie in high school. Tammy Rae, I’m sure you’re familiar with The Breakfast Club.”

My mom loved that movie; she watched it every rainy weekend when I was a kid. I never really saw the appeal. Then again, most of the jokes went right over my head. Tammy Rae was much closer to my mother’s age than mine. As was Tabby.

“Absolutely, Tabby! Who doesn’t love the Brat Pack?” Tammy Rae said.

“Exactly. Remember the scene where they eat lunch?”

“Do I? Actually, we’ve got a surprise for you. If you turn toward the big screen over the pool, we’ve brought the clip so our judges and contestants can witness your inspiration firsthand.”

On the screen, a chick about my age with dark, shaggy hair sat at a table in a room filled with books. She was supposed to be in high school? My mouth dropped in horror when she pulled out two pieces of bread, smothered them with Pixie Stix, added breakfast cereal, then put it together and ate it. Beside me, Justin shuddered. What the hell had we gotten ourselves into? I didn’t want to eat that.

“I went with an interpretation. This is bread pudding, made with a Coca-Cola caramel reduction, Cap’n Crunch base, and sugar sprinkles. I used white and wheat bread, like in the movie.” That didn’t sound completely horrible. But then she said, “I present to you–The Basket Case!”

The name of the dish did not make me feel any better. Would anyone notice if I dropped my plate into the pool?

“For those of you who don’t know,” Tammy Rae said, “This character is referred to in the movie as ‘the basket case.’ We don’t think you have to be crazy to eat it. Well, probably not.”

They both laughed while I congratulated myself on my strong stomach. The plate set before us looked like normal bread pudding. The dessert wasn’t my favorite, but eating it wouldn’t kill me. Probably.

I pushed it toward Justin. “You first.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “Ladies first. Absolutely.”

Tentatively, I leaned forward and sniffed.

“What do you think, Jen?” Tammy Rae asked.

“It smells normal!” The crowd cheered, so I prodded it gently with my fork. “It’s nice and soft.”

“Moment of truth. What does it taste like?”

Slightly emboldened by the smell, I forced myself to take a bite. Cinnamon and caramel filled my mouth. The cereal, which I expected to be appalling, added a nice crunch. The sauce tasted like regular caramel—I’d never have guessed she used soda to make it.

“I’m very sorry, Tammy Rae, but you’re going to have to bring Justin his own piece, because I’m not sharing this. It’s delicious!”

The crowd went wild. Justin leaned around me and grabbed the plate, popping the entire rest of the piece into his mouth in one bite. Unable to speak, he raised both his hands, giving it two thumbs up.

“Looks like our Fishbowl judges love the Basket Case!” Tammy Rae shouted. “Now, what did contestant number two make for us?”

Ed stepped forward. “As Jen and Justin well know, I’m one hell of a chef. However, I don’t have a ton of experience with baking. I prefer acting on instinct, not having to measure precisely or worry about ratios. So, I let the muse guide me through this recipe. Here we have, Ed’s Apple Crema Brownies: apple butter brownies made with a hand-whipped caramel-scented whipped cream.”

The thing sitting on the plate in front of me was not brown. As a lifelong brownie connoisseur, I immediately recognized this as a problem. “Ed? Why is this brownie yellow?”

He waved his hand. “Come on, Jen. You know ‘brownie’ is a figure of speech.”

Right. Next he’d be telling me “chocolate chip cookie” could be interpreted by adding things like ham or motor oil. I lifted the plate, then let it thud onto the table.

“Justin, you’re first this time. No arguing. And I see you trying to run.” Tammy Rae flashed blindingly white teeth at the crowd.

My boyfriend stopped trying to scoot his chair away from the judge’s table. At least he had the good grace to blush at Tammy Rae’s words. The crowd laughed. Leaning forward, he pressed his fork against the top of the “brownie.” It slid smoothly through the whipped cream, then stopped. He pressed harder. Nothing happened.

“Out of curiosity, what’s in this?”

At the table beside us, a judge with dark brown hair and glasses knocked carefully on the top of the brownie. At the table to the right, a plate clattered loudly to the floor. “Oh, no!” Wyatt said. “I seem to have . . . destroyed mine?”

He leaned down to pick up the plate, but when he straightened, the brownie remained in one piece. Being dropped three feet onto a hard surface didn’t even dent it. I resisted the urge to see if it left a hole in the deck.

“It’s normal brownie stuff,” Ed said. “Oil and flour and eggs and sugar and stuff. Taste it. I’m sure it’s great.”

Still looking doubtful, Justin picked up the brownie. He moved it toward his mouth in exaggerated slow motion.

“Do you need me to make airplane noises?” Ed asked.

Tammy Rae laughed. Above us, a yell split the air. I turned to see something yellow whizzing toward us. Before I could move or say anything, Justin lurched forward, dropping the brownie onto the deck and knocking me out of my chair.