Chapter Seven

Executive Producer Kendall Buckley stood at the front of the room and introduced the staff who would be responsible for the production of Killer Cuisine. There weren’t nearly as many as Kaitlyn expected. She thought there’d be dozens of people running around, making sure the lighting was perfect, the sets immaculate and the sound checked. Instead, a small number of personnel appeared to wear many hats, and included both Benji and Bryce, who looked beyond thrilled. Kendall told her that since it was a new show and she was an unproven commodity, they didn’t give her much to work with. Kait knew that if anyone could pull this off with a skeleton staff and a small budget, it was Kendall.

In order to pitch the idea for the show to CuisineTV, she’d created her own company, TKO Productions, with her good friends Taylor Hudson, soon to be Costa, and Olivia Larrson. Kendall was in charge of operations, Taylor the legal issues, while Olivia was more of a silent partner since she lived and worked in New York City. Kait chuckled to herself at the tendency of her friends and family to name their businesses after their names. Luke and Logan combined their last names to form COBRA Securities. Taylor, Kendall and Olivia had settled on TKO both as their initials and for what it represented…they wanted every show they produced to be a technical knockout, as in an out-of-the-park hit. It made sense. Somehow.

After she introduced Taylor as the legal counsel, Kendall said, “This is the director of Killer Cuisine, Lanie Harris.” A woman with a mass of short brown curls and cat-eye glasses stood and waved. “Lanie will be the go-to gal with any questions or concerns you may have. This is her first gig as director. I met her when we were on staff together at a television station in New York. She’s a hard worker, ruthlessly organized and amazingly competent. I was happy to be able to steal her away,” Kendall said with a smile. “Lanie, do you want to say a few words?”

The young woman pushed her glasses up her nose and smiled. “First, I want to thank Kendall for this incredible opportunity. I’m really excited, and nervous.” She laughed and everyone joined in. “I just want to welcome you all here and I look forward to taking this journey with you. Good luck!”

When she took her seat, Kendall placed a hand against her chest. “All of the people I’ve just introduced are responsible for what goes on behind the scenes. They are the unsung heroes. But as most of you know, reality shows usually have one or two people who serve as the face of the program, if you will. Contestants come and go, so when people think of the show, they picture the host or hostess. I can’t tell you how unbelievably lucky we are to have as our hostess, Oscar-winning actress and my very dear friend, Juliet LaRue!”

The group surged to their feet and erupted in cheers. Jade waved to the crowd looking every bit the famous Hollywood actress. Kait had to work hard to remember to call her Juliet, her stage name. To her, she would forever be Jade Bradley, the love of Logan’s life.

“This is the first time most of you will meet your competitors,” Kendall continued. “Before we get to the details of the show, let’s take a few minutes to introduce yourselves and give a brief rundown of your qualifications so we can get to know each other better. Ronald, since you are practically vibrating out of your seat, why don’t you start.”

A young African-American man with a poof of curly bleached blonde hair on top but shaved sides of black jumped up. He waved to the group. “Hi, everyone. My name is Ronald Foley, and yes, it’s pronounced RO-nald. Maybe not by my parents, but by me.” He clapped his hands together. “I’m so excited to be here. I’m from Fort Wayne and I graduated with honors with a Bachelors in Culinary Arts from The Art Institute of Indianapolis. I’m currently the sous chef at Le Banquet, training under world-renown chef Jesper Auclair. As you can probably tell, my specialty is French cuisine, but my area of expertise is creole. But really, I like to cook a bit of everything. Let’s see, I’m an Aries and I like painting—”

“I said brief, Ronald,” Kendall chastised with a fond grin. Kait had a feeling if allowed Ronald would talk all day.

“Oopsie! Right. Okay, I think that’s everything. Any questions? No? Okay. Bye-bye.”

Kait smiled at him. You couldn’t help but like him. He plopped down next to her and sighed dramatically.

“Could you tell I was nervous?”

“Not at all,” she lied.

“I can’t believe I’m actually here,” he gushed. “Isn’t this the greatest?”

“It totally is,” she agreed.

“Shandee,” Kendall called. “You’re up next.”

A woman stood and glided to the front, there was no other description for her hip swinging gait, enhanced by a body-hugging dress. She wasn’t fat by all means, but she wasn’t skinny, either. Her curves had curves. When she spun around, she was a dead ringer for Marilyn Monroe, mole and all. “I’m Shandee Young.” Even her voice was breathless like Marilyn. “I’m from Toronto, Ontario, Canada but I came here for school and never left. I’ve always loved to bake but I don’t have a degree in Culinary Arts. Just plain old Business, which I put to good use when I decided to go for it and open my own shop.”

That’s where Kait knew her from…she’d seen the billboards around town promoting her bakery, Sweeties. “Although baking is my specialty, I’m quite proficient in all areas of cooking.” Kait just bet she was. It was obvious why she’d been chosen. She was sex appeal personified.

“Thanks, Shandee. Keisei,” Kendall called next.

A short man wearing a white bandana jogged to the front of the room. He clapped his hands together and bowed at Kendall. “I am Keisei Matsuoka. My parents are from Kawagoe but I am proud to be a first generation Japanese-American. I trained at the Illinois Institute of Art and then spent two years in Japan learning proper techniques. My specialty is Asian fusion. I have a huge following on Twitter and Instagram. KMat. Hit me up.” He bowed again and then jogged back to his seat.

“Kaitlyn, you’re next.”

“Good luck,” Ronald whispered, squeezing her hand.

She smiled at him and then stood and walked to the front. Kendall and Jade both winked at her. She turned to face the rest of the group. “My name is Kaitlyn Colton and I was born and raised here. I graduated from the Culinary Institute of America as well as Le Cordon Blue in Paris. I’m currently the executive chef at Fresh!, as well as hiring out as a personal chef. Though my training is in all areas, my specialty is healthy cooking. I teach a class at the university and I give lectures on the benefits of a balanced diet.”

“Thanks, Kaitlyn. Joy, you’re next.”

Kaitlyn smiled at the woman as they passed but the one she received in return was fake, almost snide. Joy was overweight with a dark bob, dark eyes and spoke with a southern accent. “My name is Joy Hopkins and I’m ever so happy to be here.” She wrinkled her nose at Kaitlyn. “None of that ridiculous healthy cooking for me, I like my food to actually have flavor. Sawdust is not tasty, y’all.”

“Bitch,” Ronald hissed at the dig.

Kait smiled at him. She wasn’t surprised Ronald had attached himself to her…she was a magnet for gay men.

“Stick to the introductions,” Kendall chastised.

Joy looked chagrined. “I learned to cook at my grandmomma’s knee and have mastered the kitchen ever since. I own a widely successful catering business specializing in southern cuisine, or as I like to call it, comfort food.”

“Watch this,” Ronald whispered. He raised a hand and waved it like a student asking the teacher a question. “I just adore your accent, Joy, what part of the south are you from?”

Joy’s eyes darted around the area. “Um, Atlanta.”

“Atlanta, Georgia? My auntie lives there. What part of the city?”

Joy narrowed her eyes at Ronald. “Indiana. Atlanta, Indiana, okay?”

Ronald pasted a look of confusion on his face, and tapped a finger against his chin “That’s north of Indy, isn’t it?” Clearly a rhetorical question. “But…if you’re not from the south, why the accent?”

“I like talking this way,” Joy pushed out between gritted teeth.

“Okay,” Kendall broke in, sounding more like a referee than a producer. “Thanks, Joy. That leaves Darrin.”

Joy gave her and Ronald a dirty look as she took a seat behind them. A man with spiky bleached red hair marched to the front. His shirt sported a Megadeth logo. The horseshoe mustache and goatee on his face was black. He had silver hoops in both ears and a thick chain around his neck. Another chain attached from his belt to what she assumed was a wallet. He looked like a younger, thinner Guy Fieri with a carrot top. Wow, Marilyn and Guy…tough competition.

“I’m Darrin Giddens. I’m originally from Cincinnati, but now I live and work in Louisville. I don’t have a specialty. I cook a little bit of everything. I’m a chef at Trendy!. I also moonlight as a bartender and can pour a mean vodka tonic.” Trendy! was another one of Dion’s restaurants, so technically, they worked for the same boss.

“Thanks, Darrin. That’s everyone. We streamlined the number of contestants to six for the inaugural season. We’re learning as we go, but hopefully this will be the catalyst for a long run.

“Okay, we’ve kept this under wraps, but I know you’re all dying to know all about the format, so here’s how it works. Each episode will be different. You won’t know what you’re cooking until the cameras start to roll. You’ll have a list of three ingredients you must use. No exceptions. Plus, you’ll have access to the Palmer’s Pantry, sponsored by Palmer’s chain of specialty grocery stores. You should be able to find anything you’ll need there. No recipes allowed…this show will test your improvisation skills. Sometimes you won’t even know what the food will taste like. Use your background and training. And there are no rules on what you make. For example, if the ingredients were tabasco sauce, chives and ground beef, and you could whip that into a dessert dish, go for it. We’re looking for creativity as well as culinary talent. But remember, you only have one hour. As soon as the buzzer sounds, you’re done, no matter what. I don’t care if the oven timer says thirty seconds to go. You’ll be disqualified from the judging and lose those points from your score.

“We’ll have an intro with filler that will be shot during the week, then the announcement of the day’s ingredients. It will all be edited down so that the last fifteen minutes of the show will be the judging and then the results of the audience vote. The person with the lowest combined score will leave the show immediately.”

Ronald held up his hand and waved it around.

Kendall looked amused, “You have a question, Ronald?”

“Yes, how does the judging work?”

She smiled at him. “I’m getting to that.”

He slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“No problem. For each episode, we will have a panel of three expert judges. Two will be with us all season—”

The door opened and everyone turned as a man and woman entered. Kait’s gaze snapped to Dan leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed. Apparently he’d talked his way onto the set. It didn’t hurt that Kendall’s fiancé worked for his brother. She hadn’t noticed him when she was giving her introduction, so he was doing a good job of staying hidden. He gave her a two-fingered salute.

“Perfect timing,” Kendall said as she greeted the newcomers. “Everyone, this is Lucretia Lettiere.” Kait’s gaze whipped from Dan to focus on Lucretia. She was Dion’s mother. She’d never met the woman but she was a legend in the culinary world. She was tall with dark hair pulled starkly back from a striking face and secured in a bun at the back of her head. Her skin was a flawless olive color and her eyes were a golden brown. If Kait didn’t know better, she would guess the woman was mid-forties, certainly not the sixty years she knew her to be. Her face was unlined, no doubt thanks to plastic surgery. Her hair was as black as a raven’s wing, not a strand of gray. She wore a large intricate necklace made of metal and stones and looked more like a work of art than a piece of jewelry. It was probably one of her daughter’s originals. Viola McArthur was a world-famous jewelry designer and her pieces started in the four-figure range.

Kendall continued with the introduction. “Ms. Lettiere has been a contributor and editor of several magazines, including currently serving as editor-in-chief of Taste magazine. She owns a dozen successful restaurants around the country and she hosts the popular show Everyday Elegance.” The woman’s lips moved in what was probably supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a grimace.

“I’m guessing botox,” Ronald murmured.

“And this is Grady Cannon.”

Kait shuddered. Grady Cannon was a no-holds-barred food critic who delighted in bashing chefs and restaurants alike. He was often mean-spirited, mocking and just plain horrible. He reveled in reducing chefs to tears and even laughed at their distress. He’d hate her cooking, she feared.

“Mr. Cannon has served as a food critic for numerous major newspapers across the country including the Washington Post, the New York Times and the Chicago Tribune. He’s currently the host of The Grading Gourmet.”

“I may have even graded some of you,” he said with a mock frown pointing around the room to nervous chuckles. Grady was approximately five-seven, five-eight. His pencil-thin mustache framed narrow lips and his eyes were small and beady. He was never photographed without his trademark bowler hat. Kait had heard gossip that his hairline had receded as quickly as his waistline expanded. Standing next to tall, exotic Lucretia, they were the spitting image of Boris and Natasha.

“Both Ms. Lettiere and Mr. Cannon will be with us for the entire first season and we are so honored to have them on board. We felt like we hit the jackpot when they both agreed to judge.”

Kait almost snorted out loud. The network owned them both. If the higher-ups said jump, they’d jump.

“Ms. Lettiere and Mr. Cannon will provide feedback and critique for each of you. Additionally, there will be a surprise third guest judge each episode. The judges will sample each dish and provide a score based on taste, presentation and appearance. That number will count for three-fourths of your score. The remaining twenty-five percent will be audience vote. Each of you will have a number for people to call in so they vote for you.”

“Can I have my number now so I can tweet it?” Keisei asked without looking up from his iPhone. His fingers were flying over the buttons.

“But that’s not fair,” Shandee complained. ‘They won’t be able to taste the food.”

“The number will be available tomorrow, Keisei. And Shandee, no, they won’t be able to taste the food,” Kendall agreed. “But CuisineTV is looking for their next break-out television star. They want someone who is likeable, fun and connects with the audience. Although they won’t get the chance to sample your cooking, those votes are important. It tells the network that people will tune in to watch you each week.”

“So it’s a popularity contest,” Joy grumbled.

Kendall shrugged. “In a way, yes. But that vote only counts for a fourth of your score. First and foremost, you need to wow the experts.”

“So is it fair if someone comes in wearing a mini-skirt and heels, trying to get votes that way?” Darrin asked, clearly meaning Shandee.

“However you want to get votes is up to you,” Kendall told him. “If you want to tweet it to the world or don your highest pair of Louboutins, you’re welcome to try, Darrin.”

“I didn’t mean me,” he groused.

“I’m not going to tell anyone what they can and can’t wear,” Kendall continued. “No nudity, of course, but you are all required to wear the chef jacket provided, so that takes care of what most people will see on television anyway. There is a time limit, so there will be a lot of hurrying around to prepare a dish. I wouldn’t think it would be in anyone’s best interest to arrive in four inch heels or a diamond-encrusted bustier.”

Joy didn’t look appeased. Shandee looked disappointed.

“The show will be taped—that’s per the network’s requirement—but there will be a small live audience, as you all know since you’ve each been offered tickets for your families and friends. We’ve heavily promoted the event and the response has been encouraging. The tickets are sold out for the first taping.

“The set consists of two warehouses: the one we’re in right now that houses the offices and meeting rooms, and one next door that is the actual stage. We’ll film the first episode this afternoon but it won’t air until tomorrow night. We’re doing two shows a week, so it will be broadcast on Monday nights and Thursday nights. The votes will be tabulated and the contestant with the lowest combined score will be sent home. Make sure you pack your suitcase each episode. If you’re voted off, you will be going home immediately.

“I’m sure you’ve all brought your bags with you. In a few minutes we’ll bus you to the house where you’ll be staying during the run of the show. Remember, this is reality television. Filler will be filmed continuously, so be on your best behavior. Nothing is off-limits except the bathroom.”

“Are we allowed to leave the house?” Keisei asked.

“You aren’t prisoners, but you will need special permission and a chaperone if you have to leave. You’ve all committed to three weeks and signed the appropriate forms. There’s plenty to do, so you shouldn’t get bored. We have a couple of group trips planned, too, if time allows.”

“Do we get to pick our own rooms and roommates?” Joy asked.

Kendall shook her head. “Your room has been assigned to you. There are well over six bedrooms so you won’t have to share.”

“What about bathrooms?” Joy’s gaze swung to Kait. “I’m sure there are some people who take more than their fair share of time getting ready.”

Kait could tell Kendall was getting pissed and probably cursing whoever’s bright idea it was to add Joy to the cast. “You’re all adults. You can work that out amongst yourselves.”

“What if there’s a problem?” Ronald asked “Will you be staying with us?”

“No.” She motioned to two people who stepped forward. “This is Abigail and Mason Rossi. They’ll be staying at the house with you.”

“Oh my,” Ronald breathed and Kait agreed. Mason Rossi stood at least six-four with bulging muscles accentuated by a snug black t-shirt. His dark hair was cut high and tight, but growing out on top. His eyes were laser blue, even from this distance. Kait detected a slight limp when he walked to the front of the room, but it did nothing to detract from his rugged masculinity.

“It’s Abby,” the woman said. “I won’t answer to Abigail.”

“I stand corrected,” Kendall murmured.

Abigail, or Abby, was tall for a female, probably five-eight, but she looked petite next to her giant of a husband. Much like Lucretia, Abby’s brown hair was drawn back and secured at the base of her head in bun. She was beautiful but her green eyes were cold. She wore an air of superiority and arrogance. Totally unapproachable.

“Mason and Abby are former Marines, so don’t try to pull anything on them. You won’t get away with it. No drugs. No porn. Nothing like that. If something comes up that they can’t handle, they’ll get in touch with me.”

“What about our vehicles?” Darrin questioned.

“We have a secure lot here on the set where you’ll park your cars during your stay on the show. You’ll be bussed back and forth to the studio in a passenger van.”

Next, Kendall introduced the camera crew and technicians. Benji and Bryce looked overjoyed to be interns helping with the production. “The six men and women on the camera crew will be staying at the house with you, so the cameras could click on at any time. Remember, you signed a confidentiality agreement so you can’t speak about the details to anyone. Not your spouse or parents or mailman. If details leak and we trace it back to you, you will be held in breach of your contract. If there are no more questions, we’ll get you to the house now so you can settle in. Mason and Abig…er, Abby will bring you back this afternoon for the first taping.”

#

Mason Rossi studied the contestants as they introduced themselves, memorizing names and faces. It wasn’t a large group so it wouldn’t be difficult. It wasn’t the most glamorous gig serving as a live-in chaperone to contestants on a reality TV show, but he was happy to have the work. After the accident that ended his Force Recon career—and almost took his leg—he was thankful for something to distract him from brooding over the end of his military life.

He glanced at his wife, disappointed in her sour attitude. She hadn’t wanted to take this job and truthfully, it hadn’t been offered to her. His former teammate and good friend Aiden Hill contacted him about the opportunity. Aiden had recently signed on with COBRA Securities and wanted Mason to join him. He’d love to work for the renowned company if they’d have him, but he had to rehabilitate his leg first. Aiden had passed his contact information to Kendall Buckley and when she called and offered him the job, he accepted with the stipulation that his wife be allowed to chaperone as well. Kendall readily agreed, happy to have another person with training on site.

Mason thought it would be a good opportunity to work on their marriage, though he was pretty sure it was irrevocably damaged. A few weeks sequestered in a house would be the most time they’d spent together during their entire tumultuous partnership. But Abby flat declined to play babysitter, as she called it. It was beneath her. He told her he was taking the job anyway and he hoped to meet with the executives at COBRA Securities while he was here. That snagged her attention. She wanted to join the company, too. Abby had been an excellent Marine. She scored high on marksmanship and was proficient in hand-to-hand combat. She would be a good fit, if she could keep her attitude in check. Through Aiden, he’d set her up with Dante Costa so she could start the training required for her to pass the physical tests. It was possible that she could be hired on before him.

Mason closed his eyes and wondered how his life had careened so far off the rails. He had a vocation he loved and was good at, and a beautiful wife at home. Now his career was over, his leg was shattered and his marriage was in ruins. He’d like to think he loved Abby once, but he couldn’t lie to himself. He’d been in lust with her, definitely. They were dynamite together and they spent the first three days after they met in bed. Marriage had seemed like a good idea at the time. But it quickly soured. Abby chose not to reenlist and he later found out about her affairs.

Abby’s father had left her and her mother when she was young and she hadn’t seen him since. Her mother tried to replace him, running through a long string of men, and in the process, her daughter became lost in the shuffle. Abby began acting out to get her mother’s attention, becoming increasingly more volatile. A counselor suggested the military so she enlisted in the Marines. It gave her the structure she needed and she was able to channel her anger into training. But her childhood left scars that Mason didn’t see until after they were married. If he didn’t pay enough attention to her, she would act out to get it. That usually meant sleeping with other men.

It was partly Mason’s fault because he didn’t give her the devotion she craved. While he was on a mission, it was his focus. When he wasn’t, he avoided going home. Her constant nagging had worn thin and he dreaded spending time with her. When he found out about the affairs, it was a relief. He had an out to a partnership that shouldn’t have happened in the first place. When he told her he wanted a divorce, she cried and threw a fit and even threatened suicide. This time together was a last-ditch effort to apply triage to a badly broken union.