Twice Baked Page 9

  “Good morning, chefs,” Meyer called as he entered the kitchen. “I think Luke is having a little trouble with your dishes, so I’m going to taste them with Lyle, and we’ll present the three that we think he’ll like.”

  I was never so grateful for a save in my life. Looking down the tables, there was no way in hell that I wasn’t going to end up being sick.

  Meyer and Lyle began at the beginning again, speaking about each dish. I figured my little gaffe would be edited out, but I still hated that I couldn’t get through it all.

  “Which three do you think Luke might like?” Meyer asked Lyle, and they conferred and asked me to taste the three top dishes. Needless to say, the first two were not among the offerings, though the third contestant, Katy’s, was, and it was tasty. There was mushroom flavor, but it wasn’t overpowering, and the texture was firm. It helped that she had served the dish on toast, so it was crunchy, with garlic and even a hint of heat.

  “This is definitely the winner, and I can tell you that I will eat this again,” I said with a smile, and shook Katy’s hand. “A mushroom dish I can eat. You will definitely have to show me how to make it.” I thanked Meyer and Lyle, as well as the chefs.

  Ethan said cut, and everyone relaxed. “We’re going to take ten to clean up the kitchen and reset the cameras.”

  We stepped out of the way, and Lyle stayed to himself. “That guy is a real winner,” Meyer said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

  “Yeah, well. He thinks he’s all that.” I sighed. “Thanks for coming to my rescue. There was no way I was going to make it through all those dishes without getting sick.”

  “Hey. I’ll support you.” The warmth in his eyes and the gentle set of his lips sent a rush of heat down my back and right to my groin. I hoped to hell the excitement didn’t show.

  Rachel strode across the set and over to where we stood. “You two need to be more careful,” she whispered.

  I cleared my expression, and Meyer turned to her in innocent bemusement.

  She leaned closer. “The way you were looking at each other, I’d swear the two of you were on the menu. If you’ve decided to kindle some flames between you, for God’s sake do it, but be fucking careful. Ethan isn’t going to stand for anything that might be a controversy or a hint of scandal on his highly respected show.” She smiled and turned to where Lyle was speaking with Ethan. “And beware of that one. He’s a real backstabbing little bitch.”

  Damn, the way she could say those words without losing an ounce of radiance from her smile was impressive.

  I remembered Ethan’s little enigmatic talk and nodded. This set was turning into a pressure cooker, and none of the stoves was even on at the moment.

  “Chefs, in keeping with our theme of the day, tonight we will be having a fish fest. Each of you is to make one plated fish dish. Now, the plating is going to be particularly specific. We will be having a special guest at dinner, so in addition to a plate for your judges, you must make an exact replica of your dish in miniature.” Rachel held up a bread plate. “Good luck to all of you.” She went to leave and then stopped in dramatic fashion. “Katy, you get to assign the fish that each person is going to cook.” Rachel oversaw each of the cuts of fish going to the selected chef and then wished them all good luck again.

  The chefs were escorted out of the room for their planning session as a team of people moved in to clean the kitchen. We got out of the way and joined Rachel off to the side.

  “This is the surprise?” Meyer asked. “Who are we feeding, a kid?”

  Rachel pursed her lips. “I’m not saying a word.” She was really having fun with this.

  “We are going to have to eat again in a few hours?” I asked, shaking my head. My poor belly was not at all ready. “On TV you all make it seem like so much time has passed.”

  “I know. But with taping, we have to get ahead of the viewing schedule, and they have us really pushing it. I spoke with Ethan, and he said that next week we’ll be able to go back to a more normal shooting schedule since we’ve done so well.” She seemed relieved. “Go and relax a while,” she told me. “Meyer and I need to check on our chefs.” The two of them left the greenroom, and I returned to my trailer, still wondering what was going on with Meyer and when I would be able to talk to him.

  I RETURNED to the set a few minutes early. The kitchen was bustling, with Meyer busy overseeing the dishes. He saw me in the wings and came over when he could, directing me out of camera and microphone range.

  “I wanted to know how you were holding up.”

  “I’m okay. Trying not to think about it.”

  “Come to the apartment tonight and I’ll listen,” I offered, and Meyer nodded, then excused himself as he returned to give final instructions to the chefs. I went to the dining area, where a large table had been set up for just the four of us. Lyle was already there, but I didn’t talk to him, instead taking my time to psych myself up for the gustatory ordeal ahead.

  Justin came in from the wings, carrying an animal carrier, and I knew the plaintive sound coming from inside.

  “What are you doing with Rosco?” I asked, hurrying over to rescue my friend from his incarceration. He settled in my arms, glaring at Justin.

  Rachel breezed in. “Luke, can you come in here and bring Rosco?”

  “Why?” Then it hit me. The fish, the small plates. “You have to be kidding me.”

  “Nope. Rosco is going to get to eat well today.” She beckoned, and I figured this had to be a first—a cat as judge on a cooking show.

  We entered the kitchen area. “You all remember Luke, and this is Rosco, his picky cat. We need you all to put the miniature version of your dish on the floor along that line, and the dish the cat chooses will receive five thousand dollars. His decision will not affect our judging, but it will put some cash in one of your pockets.”

  “Now I’ve seen everything,” one of the chefs commented.

  I smiled as I waited until all the dishes were in place and then set Rosco down. I half expected him to run for a corner and hide, but the smells must have been too good to resist. Rosco slowly made his way to the plates, sniffing and stalking before taking a bite of the salmon. Of course I could have told them the outcome—that was Rosco’s favorite. I let him eat and then picked him up while Rachel announced the winner.

  “Thank you, Luke and Rosco, for your help with judging. Now we’ll all head in for the final assessment.” Thankfully the cameras cut, and Justin took Rosco, this time smart enough not to try to stuff him into a strange carrier before taking him back to the trailer.

  I got to follow a few hours later and found Rosco curled on the sofa, sleeping off his food coma. The trademark shooting schedule and notes for next week were already on the table on the familiar canary-yellow paper. I left them where they were for now, figuring I would look at them first thing Monday. If something was urgent, I’d be called, and as it was, I was ready to start my weekend. Rosco barely woke when I lifted him for the ride home.

  “GOOD GOD, that bit with the cat came off as hilarious. Rosco actually seemed to look at each plate before selecting the one he wanted,” Meyer said that evening just after he arrived at the apartment. “That whole thing could have gone terribly wrong.”

  “I don’t get it at all,” I said.

  “I spoke to Rachel, and they’re billing the episode as the pickiest eater and his picky pet… or something. She thinks it will be funny and the fans will love it, especially after hearing about Rosco in the previous episodes.”

  “Are you hungry?” Lord knows I wasn’t. The very thought of food made my belly rumble in discontent.

  Meyer shook his head. “The food I ate on the show, I ended up throwing up as soon as the taping was over. This whole thing with my parents has me on edge, and Ethan stopped by before I left to give me his little speech about behaving and not causing anything that might mean bad publicity.” He sighed and wiped his forehead.

  “Hey,” I told him, “I’m sorry about your da
d and mom, I really am. I feel bad that I encouraged you to talk to them.”

  “No,” Meyer protested. “You were right. Regardless of what they think, I had to let them know who I was. They deserved that, and so did I.”

  I brought Meyer a bottle of ice-cold, half-frozen water and took one myself, and sat next to him on the sofa. “What can I do?”

  “I think I’ll take Option A,” Meyer whispered.

  I needed a second to recall what I’d said earlier in the day. “Ah, well, then. Your family are who they are, but if they can’t accept you and love you for the person you are inside, then they should be led to the ninth level of hell and sautéed in a large pan until they’re just golden brown, and fed to a demon named Fred. Over and over again until they beg for mercy… and béarnaise sauce.” He lifted his gaze and chuckled. “But seriously, you’re an adult, and while Mom and Dad are important, you don’t need them any longer. You have a life of your own, are successful, and on a national television show. You have amazing restaurants and… well, you have to have friends and….”

  Meyer shook his head. “You already have more friends here than I do.” He sipped his water. “I was never good at making friends. Already half the crew adores you. They think you’re the cat’s meow, and they bend over backward for you.”

  “That’s because I’m nice and I ask about them when I can. It doesn’t take much to listen.” I leaned closer. “And when you have something to hide, it affects everything about you. In the back of your mind, you’re always wondering if someone knows or if they have figured out that you might be gay. You remain distant, because if they don’t know you well, then they will never figure out who you are. It all goes together.” I paused because I was preaching, and I didn’t want to go there. He didn’t need me talking at him that way. “What do you want to do about your mom and dad? Are you going to go see them when we’re done?”

  Meyer nodded slowly. “I probably should, even if I get the door closed in my face. At least I can try to talk to them face-to-face.”

  “Yeah. What about the rest of your family? Are they all in Arkansas or spread out?” I tried to remember and couldn’t. I had never met any of them, so they were all just names with no faces.

  “They’re pretty far-flung. My sister called just before I came over, and she’s pretty angry with Mom and Dad. Raelynn was always the rebel of the family. She’s also the only other one of us who got out, went to college, and left that small town behind. I don’t think she’s ever been back for more than a holiday visit, and she can’t wait to leave every time. I’ll fly in when taping is done, stop by for a day or two, and then leave again.” He shrugged. “It might be my last visit.”

  “Or the best visit you’ve ever had,” I corrected.

  Meyer shook his head. “I wish I had your attitude. You can smile when everyone around you is shoveling shit your way. Nothing seems to faze you.”

  “It does. But being gloomy and depressed doesn’t help. I try to be positive.” I drank some more water, willing my stomach to settle. “I never want to eat most of those dishes again. They were—” I shivered.

  “Actually, they were all pretty good. And you really liked the tuna. It was a difficult decision, but I understand. Today was a tough one for you.”

  “Can I ask what you want to do going forward?” I had to know what Meyer was thinking.

  “I’ve decided I’m not going to hide anymore. I won’t shout that I’m gay from the rooftops, but I won’t deny it either.”

  I figured that was a good start and took Meyer’s hand. His fingers were rough, and I rubbed slowly along them, entwining mine with his. “That’s a huge step.”

  “I know. But I don’t want to hide any longer. But then Ethan starts in with his cautions and paranoia. He’s so worried about any sort of talk.”

  “It’s part of his job to make sure the show is good and comes off perfect. I suppose it could be worse. The producers could be in everyone’s hair all the time, asking a million questions.”

  “They respect and trust Ethan, so that’s probably why he’s so uptight.”

  I nodded. “But what I don’t understand is why you and I being involved would cause a huge scandal. It isn’t like I’m a contestant and could use the relationship to further my chances on the show. I don’t get it.” Maybe I didn’t know enough about the entertainment business to really understand it, but it made no sense to me.

  “This is an image business. That’s all that matters. No one cares how anything truly is, only how it looks. So if it looks like something is wrong, then it is. The contestants could complain that either you or I could be influencing the other, though I doubt that would get them very far. Still, someone might make a stink, and then that’s what they’re talking about, rather than the current season and the onscreen drama. Studios and networks can control the onscreen drama, but the rest… well, they basically hate what they can’t control.” Meyer set down his water, yawning as he leaned back in the chair.

  “God, I’m glad this condensed schedule is over. It’s killing us all.” I yawned because Meyer’s was contagious.

  “Yeah, well, Ethan is asking that we come back tomorrow to shoot some takes that didn’t come out. It shouldn’t be too bad, but he needs the footage, and then on Tuesday, we head to the desert for an episode.”

  I was already so tired. When I had agreed to this, I had no idea how hard it was going to be. I was never a stranger to work, but this was draining on so many levels, and I wasn’t quite sure how much longer I was going to be able to keep up this pace. I really needed a break.

  “Is there anything on the schedule for the weekend?”

  “No. I thought if you wanted, we could go to the beach or Disneyland. Do something fun, something that doesn’t require cameras or instructions. And maybe you and I could cook together. We haven’t done that in a long time.”

  That sounded like a lot of fun. I had come all this way, so it would be nice to see something of the city while I was here. “Let’s figure it out later when I can think.” I closed my eyes as fatigue washed over me. It was lucky that I had planned ahead and a number of blog posts were all set to go, because by rights I should be putting some together, but I didn’t have the energy.

  I felt rather than saw Meyer draw nearer, heat rising around me even though Meyer didn’t actually touch me at first. His lips brushed over mine and passion rose, but I was too tired to move. “Meyer, the spirit is willing.” God, was it ever—I wanted him badly. It was sexy knowing that he’d told his parents about himself, because part of me knew that Meyer had taken that chance for me. Before, I hadn’t felt like Meyer cared enough, and now it seemed that he did. Although I did hope he hadn’t told them only because of me. Anyway, my mind snapped back to the here and now as Meyer kissed me again. “But the body….” I had to be honest. Even for him, I didn’t want to move.

  “Then maybe I should go and let you rest.”

  I didn’t want him to go, and I managed to slide my eyes open. “Let’s just go to bed. I can’t eat anything more.”

  “Then finish your water so you stay hydrated.” Meyer handed me the bottle, and I took it, drinking absently.

  He left the room, and I didn’t even think about where he’d gone before the lights in the room clicked off and he tugged me to my feet. Meyer guided me into the bedroom and slowly began stripping me out of my clothes. That should have been the prelude to sex, and I did try, but there wasn’t enough willpower in the world to make anything happen. Meyer got me in the bed and pulled up the covers. I rolled over, closing my eyes.

  I don’t know why I expected Meyer to leave. Maybe it was because when we were together before, if sex wasn’t on the table, he usually left to protect his secret. That was the reason he gave, but I’d always thought that maybe I wasn’t good enough or that I wasn’t enough for him. So when he slid under the covers, cuddling right against me in the heavily air-conditioned room, I sighed and smiled. “That’s nice.”

  “Go to s
leep. We’ll talk in the morning.” Meyer slid his arms around my belly, and I shut my eyes, falling to sleep almost instantly.

  WHEN I woke, it was still dark. I was on my back and… oh God….

  “Meyer,” I gasped. Hell, I’d thought I was having this marvelous dream, and instead it was true. Meyer slid his lips down over my shaft, and I groaned, pressing my hips upward for more, still half-asleep, the clouds of drowsiness intensifying the sensation. And when Meyer’s fingers slid up my chest to lightly pinch my nipple, I hissed and quivered. Not quite pain, but adding incredibly to the intensity.

  He didn’t say anything but took me deeper instead. My head swam, and I sat up, needing to watch Meyer as he drove me to nirvana. I flopped my head back, giving up trying to see in the darkness and just felt, letting Meyer take me where he wanted to go. And, man, it was one hell of a journey. He brought me high, let me hang there, right on the near-screaming edge, and then backed off, only to do it again and again until control was lost, and I was fully in his hands—or actually, his lips. Then, just as I couldn’t take any more, Meyer finished me off, and I tumbled into sweet oblivion, flopping back breathlessly on the bed.

  “Give… me a minute and…,” I gasped.

  Meyer chuckled and slipped out of the bed. He returned and climbed in next to me, his hands a little damp. “I’m good, honey. You took me right along with you.” He held me, and I drifted back to sleep in a haze of warmth and care.

  I could very easily get used to this, and I wanted to. But things had gone wrong before, and I wasn’t ready to go all in the way I had in the past. Call me wary, smart, or just once-burned, but I was going to need to see if this was real. But, damn, I was starting to really want it to be.

  Chapter 8

  “DO YOU really want to go to Disneyland?” Meyer asked that weekend as we zoomed down the freeway in his smooth ride.