Free Spicy (Palate #1) by Octavia Wildwood Page A

to you this afternoon but it’s going to take a week or so for the necessary parts to come in.  I’ll drive you home when we’re done here.”
    “I need to pick Joel up from the sitter’s house.”
    “Okay.  I’ll take you.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Are you ready for this?” he asked me quietly, obviously referring to the competition.
    “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied.  It was tough to get a read on him.  The previous night he’d been sweet and tender.  Now it felt like Gavin Rothe the celebrity chef was back.  There was a guarded quality to his voice that hadn’t been there before.  I didn’t like it.
    “ I hope you brought your A Game,” he cautioned me.  “You know I can’t give you any special treatment, right?”  It was too dark to get a good look at him and his tone was such that I didn’t quite know how to take his comment.
    “I wouldn’t expect you to,” I retorted immediately, insulted by the suggestion.  I crossed my arms defensively.  “And yes, for your information, I did bring my A Game.  I always do.”  It was true.  I couldn’t afford to have an off day…not when my son’s future was dependent upon winning the competition and the money that came with it.
    “Good.  I hope you’re right.”
    As the pre-recorded interview wrapped up and the lights came back on, Gavin strolled over to the host to say a few words.  He moved like he owned the stage, and when he leaned down to talk into the microphone, the audience hung on his every word. 
    Love him or hate him, there was no question that Gavin Rothe was a star.
    The show went on around me, but I was numb.  Gavin did his job, spending considerable time evaluating the other contestants’ creations.  He spoke at length with each of them, interviewing them in his characteristically abrupt and authoritative manner.  At some point he did the same to me.  Looking back, I had no recollection whatsoever of what he’d asked me or what I’d said.  I’d been operating on autopilot. 
    “Mr. Rothe, do we have a decision?” the host asked some time later as drumrolls sounded in the background.  The familiarity of it all jolted me back to the present.  I knew this part well.  It was the part I had dreams – and nightmares – about.  It was the part where one of us contestants would be laid on the chopping block.
    “I do,” Gavin replied, sounding as confident as ever. 
    He said some other things, the mandatory comments about how we’d all put in a good effort and he was proud to be our judge and mentor.  The words didn’t sound like his.  It was probably some contrived speech he was contractually obligated to recite, I reasoned.  I’d come to learn quickly that virtually nothing shown on television is real – least of all, so-called reality TV.
    “Janessa,” Gavin said, addressing the young woman to my left.  “I was impressed with your choice of menu, and your presentation was exquisite.  But I think you and I both know that your crème brûlée left something to be desired.  Cooking disasters can happen to the best of us, but unfortunately this is a competition and you only have one shot at impressing me.  I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to send you home.”
    My heart went out to the young woman whose dream had just been crushed and I was grateful that Gavin had shown some mercy by letting her down easy.  It had to hurt to be dismissed from the competition.  It was a rejection I hoped I wouldn’t come to know firsthand. 
    But on the other hand, Janessa was young indeed – probably just barely in her twenties.  Other opportunities would come her way.  She was devastated now, but she’d pick herself back up and move on.  I tried to focus on that thought so that I didn’t feel guilty about the huge smile that had lit up my face.
    I was safe for another round. 
    And as a reward for progressing to the next level, the remaining three contestants would all be receiving a monetary bonus.