The Accidental TV Star (8 page)

“Yeah, I thought the other contestants had an edge since they knew what happened. I contacted the studio and got a cut.”

I stood still, holding the DVD. “You got this for me? Thank you.”

He brushed off my thanks. “I work at the studio. It was nothing. Let’s watch it.”

When he didn’t want to take credit for something his sentences got much shorter. Sincerity and shortness, I had to remember that. I followed him into the living room, feeling oddly touched. Men didn’t put themselves out too much in my world, and I appreciated it.

Garrett cued up the tape. “Let’s analyze their game play so we can take them down.”

“Garrett, I’m really just a fill-in. I expect to get scooped out after this first episode.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know that. You’re a great cook.”

I felt a flush of pleasure. “Thanks, but there are real chefs on the show.”

“You
are
a real chef.”

I swallowed and didn’t respond. The last thing I needed was for this man to get even more attractive to me. I took a seat on the floor in front of the couch.

Garrett clapped his hands. “Right, then. Here goes.”

I watched the opening credits with a new perspective, and it all became real when the contestants I knew showed up. My nerves jangled. I curled my arms around my knees.

Dolores stepped into the living room. “I’m finished upstairs.”

“Thanks,’ Garrett said.

“This is the show I’m on, Dolores. Come watch with us.”

“No, I have dust to get,” Dolores said, but she moved to the bookshelf to our left and I caught her checking out the screen. “I like that Kate. Clean and simple cooking. I hope she wins.”

“Dolores.” I grabbed the remote from Garrett and freeze-framed the shot. “She may look clean, but I tasted her Enchiladas Verdes at rehearsal this morning and they were too spicy. Fancy and spicy.”

Dolores waved a dismissive hand. “Throw some sour cream in there. That will fix the problem right up.” Her English improved enormously when she was distracted.

“Hmm, good to know.”

“Why would she make Mexican on dessert day?” Garrett focused on the food.

“We didn’t know it was dessert day. She was guessing they’d say entrée and would have had a leg up if she’d been right. Not that I’m scared of a Mexican food challenge. My TexMex is awesome.”

Dolores snorted.

“It is. And Sara Sims, the host, is from Texas, so she knows good Mexican food.”

“You’re arguing Mexican food with Dolores?”

“Dolores is from Puerto Rico, Garrett. It’s a whole other country. Geez. I’m not going to argue Puerto Rican food with her.”

“Dolores doesn’t cook.”

“Uh huh. If you’d hired me to clean, that’s what I’d say too. No one wants two jobs disguised as one.”

Dolores didn’t join the discussion, but she wore a small smile on her face. I hit play and gave the remote back to Garrett. After watching snippets of the players’ backgrounds, they got right to the cook-offs.

Garrett froze the image on Cajun Cal winking. “Don’t trust him. He wants a show-mance.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty flirty.”

“And Will?” Garrett asked.

I looked back at his narrow gaze. “Will’s too good to be threatened by me, but he’s so cocky I want to shove his face in a dish.”

Garrett laughed. The scene turned to one of Kate scrubbing down a counter. Garrett glanced at Dolores and lowered his voice. “In the film we’re shooting, the serial killer’s a neat freak.” Dolores shook the window cleaner hard and squirted the blue spray on the glass leading to the pool. When her back was to us, he nodded rapidly. “Kate will snap. Stay away from her.”

When we’d watched all the available episodes, Garrett turned off the TV and sprang up. “Get your suit on. The wee American version of Loch Ness awaits.”

“Umm, I don’t know.”

Dolores was heading for the front door by now, and Garrett called out to stop her. “Marissa can’t swim. I should teach her, right?”

Dolores put her hand on her hip and jangled her keys. “You go let Mr. Garrett teach you. You need to know how.”

I got up. Dolores had kids and, knowing how my mom could lecture, I wanted to head her off. “Okay, okay.” I went to my room to change. I made a quick call to my mom and told her about
Scoop Out
.

“Oh, Marissa, I know that seems like a dream come true, but they make those poor contestants appear to be people they aren’t. They’ll label you and you’ll lose yourself, forever known as whatever name they give you. You should come home.”

“Thanks for the advice, Mom, but I’m going to try this.”

“My customers have given various crazy opportunities a shot. Things don’t work out. You need a stable secure job back here.”

I put on my green polka dot bikini, and threw a Trallwyn High T-shirt over the top while listening to her warnings. “Well, I’m going for it, Mom, but I’ll keep what you say in mind.”

“Okay, and catch that flight home anytime. We’re here waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

I clicked off and went outside without telling Mom about the swimming. No need to make her worry from a distance. Swimming. Garrett. I couldn’t believe Garrett wanted to help me with this.

***

Garrett wore a grey T-shirt over his board shorts and he tugged it off as he walked over to the pool. My heart slammed against my chest. I’d seen him without a shirt a million times. I had the poster on my wall, but up close was different.

“What? Like the view?”

I loved the view. I loved his brogue.

“Marissa?” He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for my snarky response.

Some opportunities in life you can’t miss. I walked over and put my hand on his chest. He was warm, solid. I traced an inch of his skin and then made my hand drop. “You’re warmer than the poster on my wall.”

His eyes went from shocked to glittery. A flush rose on his cheeks. “Marissa.” This time his accent drew out all the syllables of my name.

I turned away and walked over to the steps at the shallow end. “Come teach me.”

He followed me. “You have a poster of me?”

“Who doesn’t?” I went down three steps and the cool water covered my knees.

Garrett’s expression turned serious the deeper I went. “You have two options in the water: float or move. You’re too wound up to float, so I’ll teach you to move.”

“I’m relaxed.” I wanted to flirt with him some more, but I didn’t want to get distracted and drown. I had to calm my pulse and get serious.

Garrett shook his head and moved in front of me. “Give me your hands.”

I put mine in his warm strong grip and he walked backwards, leading me in. The water swirled around me, cool and refreshing in the warm California sunshine. He stopped when the water was chest high on me. “Today I want you to learn to tread water and get to the side. Copy me.” He released my hands, backed up a step and waved his arms toward himself in a ‘come to me’ gesture.

I copied him, pulling the water through my arms, stirring it up like cake batter. “I want to do laps.”

“We’ll get there. I’m going to hold your upper arms while you kick.” His big hands closed over my upper arms. His fingers brushed my skin. “Soft,” he said, then shook his head and firmed his grip. He held me while I ran in motion under the water. “Good. Why haven’t you learned before?”

“My mom wouldn’t allow it.”

“Stop now. Touch the bottom and lean your head back until your ears are under.”

I straightened until my bare feet found purchase on the rough pool bottom, then leaned back to get my hair wet. I wasn’t nervous about being in the water; I didn’t know if that was because we were still in the shallow end or because this was something I’d done sunbathing. The only thing that made me nervous was trying to keep my attention on the lesson instead of him. Shirtless. Garrett. Water. He was taking his role as instructor seriously and I only caught him staring a few times.

“Why haven’t you learned on your own?”

“My mom’s a bartender. She comes home with lots of
life gone wrong
tales.”

Garrett shook his head. “Client confidentiality should be sacred. In Scotland, a barkeep would rather cut out his own tongue and serve it to the cattle with a side of whisky than reveal the private stories of his clients.”

“Well, it’s not the same in Trallwyn. Mom brings it all home. She’s a sucker for a sad story. When I go to try something new, all these warnings are in my head. For me to take a leap, I have to really want it.”

“Copy me.” He stroked his arms overhead, like an Olympic swimmer. “You really wanted to come to LA then?”

I mimicked his motions. “No. I already had a ticket. When Ashley told me about the summer job, it all fit.”

Garrett stopped the arm motion and made me demonstrate treading water. Though it wasn’t swimming because I stayed in one place, it made me feel successful. I grinned at him. “Two other things swayed me. I’ll tell you one day.” Him and getting fired. He didn’t need to know either of those things.

“Now.”

“One day.”

We worked on kicking to the side next. I knew I looked more like awkward dog paddling than Olympic contender, but I was happy to make progress.

“My family wants me in college.”

I spit water out of my mouth and blinked. “Take Ultimate Frisbee or some cool movie class. I bet you can find a cool film class out in LA. You could take one with Ashley or Caz. That would be fun.”

“Will you be taking it with me?”

“Sure, if you move to Houston and go to culinary school with me.”

His face wrinkled up. “Not likely. Enough for today. Shallow end or out for you while I do some laps.”

Chapter Four

The director tapped her foot and checked the clock. “Hannah, where is she?”

“I’m sure Ms. Sims will be here any sec,” Hannah said.

We all glanced at the door as if Sara Sims would walk in. She didn’t. It took two more hours for her to arrive, and then everyone flew into high speed. We took our desserts out of the fridge and added the ingredient they’d surprised us with at the start of today’s episode. Mine was strawberries. I sliced them thin, sprinkled sugar on top, and placed them between the layers of my cake.

“Two minutes, Chefs,” Sara Sims said.

I smoothed cream on the outside then placed the strawberries in an artistic pattern on the top.

“Three…two…one…” Sara said.

We threw our hands in the air.

“Cut.” The director motioned for the new kitchen-hand to get us ready for the next stage of taping. He gave each contestant a slice of green apple. The apple dried our mouths to cut down on smacking sounds when we answered any questions about our dishes.

Now we were ready for judgment. I braced myself for the critique. As the substitute contestant, I knew this was probably my time to go and I’d prepared a gracious speech for my exit.
Thanks for the opportunity. Good luck to everyone remaining, etc…

“Remember, when Ms. Sims reaches you, step one foot forward and angle your shoulder toward the camera,” the director said. “This will give you better dimension and your best shot.”

Ms. Sims moved in front of me. “Explain your dish.”

This was likely the last time I’d see her so I had to tell her how much she inspired me. “Hi, Ms. Sims. I’m a huge fan. I’ve seen every episode. I’m from Texas too and just wanted to say what an amazing opportunity this is.”

Ms. Sims smiled, but the director cut in, “No, no Marissa.” She sighed. “Introduce your dish.”

I felt the heat in my face, but this I could do. I’d been practicing this on cell phone videos for more than a year now. “What we have here is Ex-Boyfriend Lemon Cream Cake. Tart like the breakup, ephemeral like the memories. And thanks to
Scoop Out
, a layer of strawberries to symbolize hope for the future.”

Ms. Sims sliced through the cake with her tasting spoon. My heart pounded with the motion. Her eyebrows rose and she nodded but her face remained impassive.

Ms. Sims went down the rows, trying Kate’s Precision Chocolate Mousse, Grandma’s Apple Bop Pie, Spice King’s Spicy Crème Brulee, Cal’s Fry It and Die for It Beignet, and Will’s Austrian Amaretto Torte. Ms. Sims wore her inscrutable expression the whole time. After she’d sampled all the desserts, she faced the main camera. “Paprika on Crème Brulee? Spice King, your spice-centric take on the world went too far this time.”

One of the cameras zoomed in on Spice King’s dessert. He huffed and went to the front of the room.

Sara Sims held up the doggie bag. “You’ve been scooped out. Enjoy this at home because you can’t eat it here.”

All the remaining contestants began to bark as the Spice King made his farewell. He shed his apron and threw paprika at the camera. I was too stunned to join the barkers until Cal elbowed me. “Ruff.”

“Cut. That’s a wrap.” The director’s shoulders slumped. She blew out a breath and looked at the clock. “Great job, you guys. See you next rehearsal.”

Before she’d finished the word
rehearsal
, Ms. Sims was out the door. The five of us who remained high-fived each other and got our own spoons out to taste each dish.

Grandma Gert did the slicing. She was like a Samurai with the knives. While on the show, all her movements were cautious and grandmotherly. Take the cameras off her and the blades flew. Amazing. I’d have never beaten
her
in a cutting contest. And the desserts tasted incredible. Everyone offered opinions on why certain ingredients worked and why others would have worked better. I was in heaven with my people.

Hannah hung back with us, but she didn’t taste the dishes. She typed on her computer tablet and then brought each of us a navy blue T-shirt. The shirts read,
Scoop Out Final Five.
“Obviously, you can’t wear the shirt until the episode airs, but then we encourage it.”

Will, looking smug, grabbed his and left.

Kate turned to me. “I’m going out to celebrate. Want to come?”

“Sure.” I folded my T-shirt carefully, put it in my bag, and then straightened to shrug off my apron.

Cal removed his cap and ran a hand over his hair. “Y’all can ride with me.”