“What about you guys?”
“Sorry?” I heard Brody ask, and I wanted to turn and listen to him explain how he was using kirsch, and how he was inspired by this or that, anything to watch him talk. I faced forward because I had to keep control of myself and try not to drool over the cake concept or the man.
“Ideas for tomorrow,” Clare prompted.
“I’m all in on silver,” Ivan replied. “But I’m on the lemon track for flavor.”
“Blue and lavender,” Kristen shouted from behind them, but I didn’t hear Shauna say anything. I swear she was going to cry when she was doing her introduction, and I wanted to hug her and tell her not to worry about things. Of course, I’d be lying because I was so worried about everything to do with this competition that I was a step away from hyperventilating myself.
“I’m thinking red velvet and gold to decorate,” Brody said.
I noticed no one was giving away their flavor profiles. Still, just from Brody’s simple explanation I could imagine some delicate filigree of gold on red and imagined Brody winning the whole competition. When it came to cupcakes, I only really had one idea, and that was a rose gold color for my decorations, maybe infusing the buttercream icing with a little rose water, not much because then it would taste like soap, but just enough to have a hint. As bakers, we had access to a ton of equipment, a room full of ingredients and equipment that we could use, and I was certain that in the supply area there would be something I could use. I could only hope that inspiration would hit me when I stepped inside the kitchen area.
“Oh,” Clare said. “Red velvet is what I’m doing.”
“Cool,” Brody mumbled. “May the best red velvet win.” He was laughing, but Clare just seemed irritated. How could she claim that only one person could do red velvet? It was a staple for bakers in this competition.
By the time I’d thought all that through, we were back at the hotel, and its portico was framed perfectly with the fresh snow. They’d begun to decorate for Halloween, which was at odds with the fact that we were filming a Christmas show, but then, this place wasn’t appearing in the show itself, just the convention center was given over to the show. Still, I would be taking a lot of photos, so I had to plan on what to include and what not to include. Probably the huge spider hanging over the doorway which made Clare stop in her tracks and tug me to a stop. She visibly shuddered, and then let go of my arm and hurried through, as her completely impractical high-heeled boots skidded on the wooden floor.
Kristen teased Ivan about the spider then they went inside with Brody. I just needed a moment, standing under the huge fake spider and catching my breath. Sometimes rooms closed in on me. On occasion, I couldn’t separate the noise and the chaos of life and I ended up overwhelmed, and it was happening now.
“Coffee?” Brody asked from behind me then came to stand at my side, holding two coffee mugs and passing one to me. “Black, but I have creamer and sugar.”
“Thank you, black is good.”
We sipped our coffees, our hot breath turning the air white, and it seemed as if he had something to say from the way he kept glancing over at me from under his lashes.
“Are you excited?” he asked.
“About the competition? Yeah. Nervous.”
“Me too.”
He lifted his cup in salute, and we toasted to our nerves.
We separated to go to our rooms, and it was with the promise we’d meet in the bar for a drink in an hour and then eat dinner. I went to my suite on the top floor. Thankfully the rest of the contestants were scattered all over, and I was happy with that. I didn’t want the other guys randomly knocking on my door, asking me questions or demanding I tell them my plans for the cupcakes when I had no plans to share, and as soon as I shut myself in I was happy to be alone.
For someone who has millions of people watching their every move, I prefer my own company. I’d been used to looking after myself, found my own ways of dealing with life, and to get someone else involved at any point would mess with my head. So why did you say yes to coffee? It’s just coffee, not a sweeping love affair with Olympic style sex. Although random sex with Brody wouldn’t go amiss. In fact, if I closed my eyes I could think of his eyes, and his body, and…
His snowman sweater.
His ridiculously cute snowman sweater with the floppy carrot, and the scarf that puffed out under it.
Not that I’d been staring.
My cellphone vibrated and I casually looked at the notification, hoping it would be something I could ignore, but seeing Erin’s name at the top I knew I had to at least acknowledge it. I know she was somewhere in this hotel, and that she probably knew exactly what suite I was in.
ROI down, shoot some inside footage. Nice car vid.
I had a shop, selling aprons with my name on, bakeware, even packed ingredients to make the perfect cakes, I sold chocolate, candy, blowtorches for meringue, plates, cups, posters—if it was something that was even tangentially connected to baking it had my name on it. ROI, or return on investment, was just another term for how much advertising cost against what I was earning, but it had become so much more than that to me. It was a measure I had to watch to know how I was doing, and it used to be I’d watch the ads and how they ran, checking them every hour, sometimes more, desperate for the money to outweigh the cost of making the ads. Now I had a guy who did this for me. He was part of Erin’s team. A quiet focused man with huge complicated spreadsheets that calculated what I was worth to my company at any given moment. The formula was simple. I go live on Insta or make a video for any platform that would have me, and I made money.
I settled back on the bed, one hand under my head after tousling my hair, and then I put the phone just right, playing with the settings and moving until the light was perfect.
“Hey, Mallys, I’m at the Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel, met up with the other five contestants and did the opening shots. Wait until you see the antlers and the sweater I had to wear, you’re gonna laugh. I might get some sweaters commissioned for the shop, who’s up for that?” Several hearts began to dance on the screen, and a few messages along the lines of I’d buy that. Meanwhile, I had a product I could push. “Seems like I’m going to have to be content with a Mallys T-shirt, but it’s a good shirt, so I’m not going to worry too much.” More hearts, more messages, and I could guarantee people were getting shirts, buying into the name. “We’re meeting for dinner, check my Insta for photos later. Bye, guys!” I blew a kiss at the screen and then ended the video, dropping the cell to the bed and feeling faintly dirty. When had it got to this point where I didn’t feel successful after each video? Where the number of likes meant nothing to me? The cell buzzed, and I buried it under a pillow. I could still hear it, so I was torn between looking at the messages or turning it off. Instead, I headed into the bathroom for a shower. No one can hear their phone through a closed door while standing under a torrent of water.
If only I could forget it was out there making noise.
I rolled my neck and then braced my hands on the tiles, the water beating down on my tight neck.
Rose water cupcakes, winter rose, rose gold.
The blind challenge I had no control over, so I’d have to cross that bridge when I got to it and try not to panic. There are two types of people in a blind bake. Those who’ve never seen whatever they had to make before, and those who’ve made it all the time. The ones who knew what to do always looked so quietly confident, and the ones who didn’t? They were the contestants who said that they didn’t understand what they were doing and just winged it.