"In the Kitchen with Aunty Mae and the Dog," Mrs. R informed me. "It's on every morning just after the Today show."
"That, I have seen," Mom piped up. "I adore Aunty Mae."
That was a name I did know. Aunty Mae was a sixty-something woman with a wide smile, a sweet Southern accent, and a down-home solution for every household problem, which she could teach the viewing public in thirty minutes or less. If Martha Stewart had a perkier Southern sister, it would be Aunty Mae. She'd been a staple on the Cooking Network for years, and she could not seem more the opposite to the grungy looking rapper on stage right now.
"That seems like an unlikely pairing," I noted.
"Oh, it is. That's what's so fun," Mom said.
"Aunty Mae and Dog are always fighting on the show." Mrs. Rosenblatt grabbed Mom's arm. "On yesterday's episode, they were each using knives to slice up tomatoes, and I swear they were thinking about using them on each other. Dog said Mae had a 'face like the back end of a haggis.'"
"I missed that one," Mom said, frowning.
"Stream it," Mrs. Rosenblatt advised. "You'll thank me for it later."
Goatee Guy turned around in his seat again. I felt we should be on a first name basis by now. "I read they got into it so badly last week that Aunty Mae stormed off the set."
"What did Dog do?" Mom asked.
Goatee Guy shrugged. "Maybe he added something funny to the brownies."
Dana snorted back a laugh.
The lights in the studio audience flicked on and off, and the familiar opening musical strands of the show met my ears, followed by Johnny Gilbert's booming voice. "This is Jeopardy!"
My mother clutched my hand in excitement. "Here we go."
CHAPTER TWO
The contestants were introduced one by one, starting with Doggy Z, who looked like he was having a hard time concentrating on the host. He startled when he heard his name. "From the bonny hills of Scotland, rapper and co-host of In the Kitchen with Aunty Mae and the Dog, Doggy Z!"
Dog gave the peace sign to the audience, which got a few laughs and murmurs of approval. I glanced over at the stage manager, who didn't seem as impressed.
"He looks a bit out of it," I noted.
Dana agreed. "Yeah, even for Dog."
Faux Dad smiled and nodded graciously when Johnny called him the "hairdresser to the stars." Angela's gleaming white teeth looked like they belonged in a Crest commercial when Johnny referred to her as the "Queen of Mean on Daytime."
"And now, here's your host of Jeopardy!" Johnny cried, "Alex Trebek!"
Mrs. Rosenblatt whistled loudly and threw up her arms to clap. "The older that Trebek gets, the hotter he looks. If he plays his cards right, he could be Husband Number Seven."
"He's happily married," I told her.
"Oh poo." Mrs. Rosenblatt frowned. "This is Hollywood. Anything goes." Then she shouted out an, "I love you, Alex!"
"Thank you, Johnny," Trebek said, slightly flushed, and I wondered if he'd heard Mrs. Rosenblatt's confession. "Welcome to the first night of our Celebrity Jeopardy! Tournament."
Trebek went on to introduce each of the contestants and asked what charity they were playing for. Faux Dad announced that he'd selected the Los Angeles Children's Hospital. Angela was playing for a local animal shelter.
Trebek looked puzzled as he stared at his card before addressing Dog. "This says that you're playing for the Bonnie Ladies of Glasgow fund?"
Dog gave a slow smile. "I dinnae ken what that is, but they sound like wee belters to me!"
Trebek was left speechless for a second. Then he smiled and said, "Uh, let's take a look at the board."
I glanced at the categories. American Presidents. Farming. The 1500s. Crossword Puzzles. Figure Skating. Before & After.
I bit my lip. I had no idea if Faux Dad knew anything about any of those categories.
Faux Dad went first and boldly skipped over the smaller amounts, selecting Figure Skating for $1,000. He was rewarded with the Daily Double.
"Too bad he had to find it so early," Mrs. Rosenblatt lamented.
"Shush!" Mom whispered.
After the applause subsided, Faux Dad said, unflinching, "Let's make it a true Daily Double, Alex."
My mother gasped and grabbed my hand in a vise-like grip. "I don't think he knows much about figure skating," she said in a worried undertone.
"Try to think positive," I told her.
Trebek read the answer out loud. "She's an Olympic gold medalist but remembered more for her wedge haircut."
Faux Dad didn't hesitate. "Who is Dorothy Hamill?"
Applause commenced, and Mom allowed herself to breathe again. Faux Dad and Angela went on to split the rest of the skating category between them. Then they moved on to Farming and American Presidents. All the while, Dog stood there, unmoving, more like an observer than a contestant.
Trebek announced a commercial, and the stage manager, positioned in a booth to the left of the set, started clapping, encouraging the audience to do the same. As soon as the camera was off, Trebek went to each contestant and posed for a quick picture with them. We watched as Angela wrapped her arm around his waist and gave the camera a flirtatious grin.
"What I wouldn't give to be in her place right now," Mrs. Rosenblatt sighed. "He'll never know what he's missing."
Thank goodness for small favors.
A makeup artist ran over to touch up Faux Dad's face. The hot lights above weren't doing him any favors, and we could see streaks of foundation running down his cheeks.
"Nerves," Mom said. "He always sweats when he's nervous."
Goatee Guy turned around again. "Ah, he's got it in the bag. Angela got lucky with her answers, and Dog's on another planet."
I watched Trebek approach Dog, who blinked at him, not seeming to comprehend who he was. He moved as if in a trance through posing for a photo, giggling like a child when asked to smile.
One of the stagehands went over to Dog and handed him some sort of blue sports drink. Dog grabbed it and chugged as if he'd been in the desert all day. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, let out a burp, and handed it back to the man, who looked at him with disgust.
The taping resumed, and I glanced at the scores. Dog had $200, Faux Dad was leading with $3,400, and Angela had $1,200. I could feel Mom getting more and more tense as each answer came up on the board. Faux Dad got one wrong, pulling away from his score a bit, and for a moment Angela was in the lead. Then he answered two in a row right and became the frontrunner again.
Dog, however, couldn't seem to find his stride. During Double Jeopardy! he kept clicking the buzzer, even after Faux Dad had answered the question correctly. Disgusted, he threw it on the floor and yelled, "What a bag of bollocks!"
"Cut!" one of the crew yelled.
Dog sat down on the floor. "Am just needing a wee doggy nap, ye ken," he said.
Several people in the audience laughed at the joke, though I didn't see the crew enjoying his antics. I glanced over at Dog's son sitting in the audience and saw him frown.