Free Fire In the Kitchen by Donna Allen Page A

comments about her.
    Dante ignored them and turned around to walk to the registration desk.
    “Good morning, Pearl. Nice to see a delightful face in an unattractive crowd.”
    “Why, Dante, you’re a pleasure for my old eyes.” She put out her hand and Dante dutifully kissed it before she retrieved it. “Aren’t they horrible?”
    He leaned over and spoke conspiratorially, “Only when off-camera. You’re looking lovely as ever.”
    Pearl laughed a long, raspy laugh, suggesting she may have been a chain smoker in her day. “Just say the word and I’ll divorce George,” she said. “We’ve only been together for forty years, he won’t notice.”
    Dante smiled. “Do you have my cell key? And who are my inmates?”
    “Oh, Dante, you are terrible.” Pearl smoothed back her tinted blue hairdo. “We’ve done it in alphabetical order to avoid complications.”
    “Does that mean I’m sharing with my cousin?”
    Pearl looked at her clipboard. “Sure does. He hasn’t checked in yet. He’s too busy making a fool of himself.”
    Dante frowned. “He has a habit of eating foods that…er…don’t agree with him, if you get my gist. He can get a bit noisy at night. Any chance of…”
    “How disgusting.” Pearl shook her head. “I can’t help you with that I’m afraid. It came from up above, from what I’ve heard. Maybe it wasn’t a random decision after all.”
    “Don’t let the truth get in the way of good ratings?”
    “Something like that.”
    “Um, can you tell me what room Cassidy Summers is in?”
    Pearl’s rasping laugh returned. “Ah,” she said. “I’ve been traded in for a younger model. She’s on the top floor like you, but on the opposite side of the building. Let me see.” She pointed to the rooms on the floor plan. “You are on the other end of the building. If you look out your window, because the building is curved, you should be directly opposite and able to wave to her.”
    Dante thanked her and collected his information pack. He turned toward the staircase and almost bumped into his cousin because he was standing so close.
    Eavesdropper.
    Carlos crossed his arms.
    “So glad you could join us. Not. This competition’s a bit below your league, isn’t it? Couldn’t stand to let me have this one simple thing?”
    “You threw down the gauntlet,” Dante said, feeling the vein in his neck start to throb. “All I’m trying to do is repair what you broke.”
    “Can’t stand for me to be in the spotlight?” Carlos replied. “Wouldn’t want me to shine without you?”
    Several chefs had gathered behind him, interested in Dante’s response. Dante’s voice was low, almost a rumble, and the words were only for his cousin’s ears.
    “While I was in Italy, you damaged my restaurant’s name by deliberately going against everything I believed in. You purchased food that wasn’t from our local suppliers, you served food that didn’t have an Italian influence, and you poisoned the majority of my staff against me with lies. You created a media circus at my expense.”
    Carlos stood back and put his palms out.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m checking in and checking out of this conversation.”
    Dante shook his room key at him, exposing the room number 29.
    “After you’ve checked in, we’ll continue our private conversation in our room.”
    * * * *
    Even with the unanticipated cameramen waiting for him, it had taken Dante less than twenty seconds to absorb his new home away from home. Small, impersonal room, tiny en suite bathroom. The space had been designed for practicality rather than aesthetics: single bed, bookcase, desk, lamp, rubbish bin. The walls, ceiling, door, and even the quilt were eggshell white. Had he been committed , he wondered, to match his inner commitment to being successful in the competition?
    He pulled open the drapes and looked down at the garden that had been planted months before in readiness for this television series. He