Free The Accidental TV Star by Emily Evans Page B

breakup, ephemeral like the memories. And thanks to Scoop Out , a layer of strawberries to symbolize hope for the future.”
    Ms. Sims sliced through the cake with her tasting spoon. My heart pounded with the motion. Her eyebrows rose and she nodded but her face remained impassive.
    Ms. Sims went down the rows, trying Kate’s Precision Chocolate Mousse, Grandma’s Apple Bop Pie, Spice King’s Spicy Crème Brulee, Cal’s Fry It and Die for It Beignet, and Will’s Austrian Amaretto Torte. Ms. Sims wore her inscrutable expression the whole time. After she’d sampled all the desserts, she faced the main camera. “Paprika on Crème Brulee? Spice King, your spice-centric take on the world went too far this time.”
    One of the cameras zoomed in on Spice King’s dessert. He huffed and went to the front of the room.
    Sara Sims held up the doggie bag. “You’ve been scooped out. Enjoy this at home because you can’t eat it here.”
    All the remaining contestants began to bark as the Spice King made his farewell. He shed his apron and threw paprika at the camera. I was too stunned to join the barkers until Cal elbowed me. “Ruff.”
    “Cut. That’s a wrap.” The director’s shoulders slumped. She blew out a breath and looked at the clock. “Great job, you guys. See you next rehearsal.”
    Before she’d finished the word rehearsal , Ms. Sims was out the door. The five of us who remained high-fived each other and got our own spoons out to taste each dish.
    Grandma Gert did the slicing. She was like a Samurai with the knives. While on the show, all her movements were cautious and grandmotherly. Take the cameras off her and the blades flew. Amazing. I’d have never beaten her in a cutting contest. And the desserts tasted incredible. Everyone offered opinions on why certain ingredients worked and why others would have worked better. I was in heaven with my people.
    Hannah hung back with us, but she didn’t taste the dishes. She typed on her computer tablet and then brought each of us a navy blue T-shirt. The shirts read, Scoop Out Final Five. “Obviously, you can’t wear the shirt until the episode airs, but then we encourage it.”
    Will, looking smug, grabbed his and left.
    Kate turned to me. “I’m going out to celebrate. Want to come?”
    “Sure.” I folded my T-shirt carefully, put it in my bag, and then straightened to shrug off my apron.
    Cal removed his cap and ran a hand over his hair. “Y’all can ride with me.”
    “Terrific.” Kate lifted her sweater set over her head and left it on her stool. Underneath she wore a backless, metallic silver halter-top.
    “That’s my girl, secretly slutty,” Cal said and Kate bumped his fist in agreement. “How about you? How off is your show name, Star Stalker?”
    “Mine’s pretty much spot on,” I said. “You in, Hannah?”
    “Yeah.” She took off her black Scoop Out T-shirt. Underneath, she wore a neon pink tank.
    “How about you, Gert?”
    “Shit, no.” Gert put on a flannel shirt, drew a pack of cigarettes from the pocket and tapped the end against her palm. “You kids have fun.”
    The whole process was like watching Clark Kent change into Superman.
    Kate dragged a shirt from her bag and tossed it to me. “Hold up, Marissa.”
    The shirt had green sequins, thin straps and landed two inches above the navel. I looked from it to my ancient T-shirt. “Thanks,” I said, and headed to the bathroom to change.
    “I’ll grab some makeup.” Hannah went for the small vanity in the corner we used for touchups.
    Hannah and Kate met me in the bathroom at the counter. Hannah set up the large, professional makeup kit in the center along with a stash of cotton swabs and cotton balls for application. “Pick your poison.”
    We dug through the kit like Christmas came early. Hannah was very particular about color, Kate was fastidious about high-gloss finish, and I had a fondness for sparkle. As Hannah lined her cornflower blue eyes with a neon green pencil, I