By the time I’d settled into the rhythm of design I was telling myself that upsetting Brody wasn’t my fault. Why didn’t Brody think a flirtation was okay? Was I that bad? Was I not the kind of person that warranted a flirtation? Maybe some gentle touches or kind words.
He said he was going to ask you for a coffee. He asked you to save Jeremy.
On autopilot, I’d created tiny car shapes for the top of my cupcake, all in white, decorated with the smallest pink sugar paste window I’d ever managed.
I’d received a few messages from kids in the last couple of days, probably because of the superhero bake I’d done. One of them asked me how to make fondant icing templates, and I hadn’t answered yet, but I took a couple of quick snaps of what I was doing when the cameras weren’t on me and saved them for later. So what if my demographic wasn’t ten-year-old kids, I wouldn’t leave this one hanging. Although what he’d think of the naked chest post last night and the suggestive mention of frosting I don’t know. Maybe I needed to set up a second stream for my social media that was kid friendly? I filed away the thought for later because I had to concentrate. One thing I do know is that I smiled at the thought of helping out new bakers who wanted to learn.
And the smile was genuine.
The cars were cut out of rolled icing, and I placed them gently on top of each cake into the swirled topping which tasted of just the right mix of vanilla and rose. The buttercream had a touch of pink hue, and it tasted like heaven. It was so nice that I could eat a bowl of it.
Of course, then I’d be sick, but somehow I’d done enough with my cupcakes, and with only five minutes on the clock I’d nearly finished. A small dusting of edible rose-pink glitter and I was done. I set my cupcakes on the end of the bench and spent the last few minutes tidying up. As I deposited the bowls into the sink, I cast a look at Brody’s cupcakes.
And my world imploded.
They were stunning. He’d chosen a musical theme with tempered chocolate notes aside of tiny violins that he sprayed gold against the red and white cream which was sumptuously layered with the notes. They were a winning design, and if they tasted as good as they looked, I was losing against him. Self-doubt was crippling, and I panicked. In real life, one of the on-site pastry chefs would come over and primp my cakes, make them more this or more that, ensure they were perfect for the beauty shots we’d use on my social accounts. I didn’t have anyone doing this here. Were the car shapes too big? Did they look enormous against the swirled icing? Were the swirls delicate enough? Maybe I should have tempered chocolate the same as Brody. Maybe I should have—
“TIME!” Courtney shouted and startled the hell out of me. Too late now, what’s done is done. “Tools down bakers.” Ivan cursed under his breath. Shauna squeaked, but the rest of us were soberly quiet. This was the first bake of the competition and one of us would be going home tomorrow after the final gingerbread extravaganza. I didn’t want it to be me.
I won’t let it be me.
One by one we took our cakes up in order. Clare’s were given a perfect. Ivan received a well done with provisos about flavor. Shauna got a thumbs up from Venetia, which was the highest plaudit from her. Kristen got a handshake from Lewis, the highest accolade from him. Then it was Brody with his perfect cakes.
Venetia fluttered her hands in front of her, pressing them to her chest. “Oh my, I’ve never seen chocolate work so perfect before. Look at those tiny notes and the violins, oh my.”
“Well if it’s on looks alone, you could have a winner here,” Lewis warned. He cut open a cupcake and hmmmm’d. I could see the way a small amount of chocolate filling oozed, and the cake held firm. The cream remained in place, and then there were the goddamn tiny violins. The look on Lewis’s face when he tasted the first one. He was in heaven. Venetia gave a thumbs up, fluttered some more, and everyone in the room knew this was the winning bake.
Unless of course I did better.
It wouldn’t be me.
It was now my turn. Lewis turned the plate critically checking the cupcakes on their stand for imperfections. I could see so much wrong with them.
“What is your inspiration?”
“Driving home for Christmas,” I managed.
“Very nice,” Lewis murmured without a single sign of a hmmm.
“These are so pretty,” Venetia added, and I got a quick hand flutter.
Lewis cut into one. The filling stayed. The icing fell just so, and the tiny car looked cute. He chewed on a mouthful, exchanging a look with Venetia who mid-chew returned the glance and nodded.
“I think the look of what you’ve done is perfect, but I think the cake is a little dry, although the cream offsets that for the most part.”
“I agree with Lewis,” Venetia said. “Presentation eight out of ten, content under the buttercream maybe a seven?”
“Thank you.” I took the positive and returned to the bench. What was done was done, and there was nothing I could change now. Ivan threw me a look of camaraderie, and I smiled back. Then I caught Brody’s expression, one of silent support and non-judgment, without a flicker of anger in sight. Had he forgiven me for the stupid suggestion?
“They look good,” he told me. He was supporting me even after I’d fucked up.
“I wish,” I whispered back. Stupid freaking cupcakes with their teeny tiny cars. What a fuck up.
Rita, floor manager extraordinaire, stepped into the space in front of us all. “Okay, guys, awesome. You have sixty and then we’re setting up for the blind challenge. Use the facilities, get your makeup checked, and then to the foyer for sound bites please.”
This I was used to. Being herded from room to room, giving our take on what had happened.
Mine was pretty much: “It’s the first day, and I can’t wait for the blind challenge. I was kind of disappointed they found the cake itself a seven out of ten, but I loved the feedback.”
I went and hid then, right at the back of the ballroom where the filming was, finding a space where a row of fridges gave me space to just be on my own. It was similar to a space I’d found during season one on the sound stage, only there’d been more room in that one. I needed to ace the blind challenge today because, if I didn’t then it could be me going home, and I have over three hundred thousand dollars in endorsements riding on getting to episode four. Erin had planned it all, how in week four I was going to use several particular products in my baking. I had to get to that episode.
I was planning to give a cut of my endorsements to the charity because I didn’t expect to make it to the end, but there was no way I wanted to go out in round one.
“Hey, mind if I sit?” Ivan slid in next to me before I could answer and hunched up so the refrigerator hid him as well. He was a big man, broad, with a faint accent I couldn’t place but assumed was Russian given his name. Who knows? “That was a hard one,” he announced and sighed noisily. “Getting back into the swing of it.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry about the dry cake comment you got from the judges.”
I side-eyed him expecting a gleeful expression but was shocked to see that he appeared genuinely sad for me.
“Thanks.”
“I stole one off the display, they weren’t dry. In fact, they were better than mine, but I guess they need to hold the superstars back a little.” He wrinkled his nose and then laughed. “It’s all a game isn’t it.”