Skinnydipping (33 page)

“Well, it’s true I’m a baker, but I also went to bartending school, and this is a little drink I created a while back that’s always a big hit at parties. I call it the Have Faith Pink Lemonade Mojito.”

“What did you do to your hair?”

I could feel my cheeks burning, but I played it cavalier. “We were going for a theme—the 1960s Domestic Goddess serving drinks for her husband’s colleagues after work.” I twirled around in my apron again. Chaz tipped his hat.

“I see,” Sybil said. “That was … probably not necessary.”

“Let’s just make you a drink then,” I said.

“Interesting,” Sybil said after taking a sip. “Did you use simple syrup?”

“We made our own with raw sugar,” I said. She paused. I could tell she liked the drink.

“It’s nice,” Ruby said, nodding.

“This is great,” Alice said. “Can I have another one?”

“Why not? I’ve already had three,” I said.

“You’ve been drinking these?” Sybil asked. “Are you drunk?”

“Um…” Suddenly I regretted saying anything. “Well, we had to taste… and be sure they were right.”

“I see,” Sybil said. “And that required drinking three of them. Well, that explains your judgment about the costumes.”

“It’s been a very stressful day,” I said, apologetically.

“A Domestic Goddess always has herself under control,” Sybil said. She turned to Chaz. “The drink is named after your teammate. What did you do to help in this team effort?” she asked. “Did you have three drinks as well?”

“I … I did the …”

I jumped in to save him. “Presentation is key in a cocktail, and Chaz was in charge of rimming the glasses with raw sugar and garnishing with the lemon-lime wheels.”

“Really?” she said, raising her eyebrows.

I realized I’d pretty much taken over our team. I hadn’t listened to any of his suggestions, so I felt like I had to give him credit for something. I hoped I hadn’t unintentionally sabotaged him.

“It looks to me,” Sybil said thoughtfully, “like Faith took the lead on this one. Is that correct?”

“The drink was definitely her invention, and I would say she was in the role of team leader, but we worked on it together,” Chaz said.

“OK,” Sybil said. “I do like the drink, even if I think your outfits are tacky. Your recipe, please.”

Finally Sybil and her entourage continued to the next table and I could breathe again. Before Alice moved on, she leaned in and whispered to us, “I think your outfits are cute.”

“Oh, my God,” I whispered to Chaz, when they were out of earshot. “That was so stressful, I wanted to die.”

“You and me both, honey,” he said. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Just between us, I wouldn’t mind if she cut me. I’m happy to take the blame for anything and everything, if it means I don’t have to go through this again.”

“Don’t say that!” I said. “She’s not going to cut you.” I glared at him. “You did more than help, Chaz. We were a team.”

Suddenly, a cameraman jumped in front of me and Mike appeared. “Faith, how do you feel after that challenge? Talk us through it.”

“I think she liked our drink,” I said. “I think she really would have liked to have three or four of them. In fact, I strongly suspect Sybil’s a
secret party animal. I think we’ll probably win this challenge, after she swings back for another one.” Mike gave me the thumbs-up, then the camera swung away toward Team Six.

“Do you really believe we’re going to win?” Chaz said.

“Sure!” I said cheerfully, not feeling sure at all.

chapter twenty-three

B
ack in the Loft, we all ate dinner and waited, although for most of the contestants, dinner meant an energy bar and a diet soda. Nobody had an appetite. We were too tired and wired and ready to blow. We all knew that Sybil’s testers were having their way with our recipes. I gazed, glassy eyed and exhausted, out the windows at the panoramic view of the sun setting over the Hudson River, but I hardly saw it.

“Is there any of that champagne left?” Monica said, pacing back and forth in front of the couch.

Katie looked disgusted. She put her long legs up on one of the white ottomans and crossed her arms, slumping back into the cushions. “You people are so bizarre,” she said.

“Honey, we’re all in this together, so why don’t you just cut the diva act?” Shari said.

“Excuse the hell out of me!” Katie said. “At least I’m not trying to sell my flowers to everybody I meet like I’m some dirty street vendor.”

Chaz raised his eyebrows at me, and mouthed the words “dirty street vendor?” I giggled.

“Have you guys thought about how much money they are making off of us?” said Andy, the chef, bouncing up and down on the balls of
his feet like he was on springs. “The question is, how do
we
cash in on this whole reality show concept?”

“Reality!” yelled one of the cameramen. I thought how ironic it was that we couldn’t talk about this one major aspect of reality on a reality TV show. They called it “breaking the fourth wall,” between the action and the audience.

“I just want to prove myself, so Sybil doesn’t hold this whole Ian thing against me,” I said.

“Too bad you can’t give Sybil a blow job,” Katie said. “Then you’d be just fine.”

“If I had, I’d own her company by now,” I shot back. I rubbed my eyes. They wanted so badly to close.

“Sybil loved your cocktail,” Shari said.

“Probably not as much as she loved your beautiful cupcakes,” I said. Shari and Jodi Sue had made pink cupcakes with real flowers on top.

“They were beautiful,” Shari agreed. “I’m so glad I thought of them.”

“It was my recipe,” said Jodi Sue, crossing her arms over her overexposed cleavage and pouting.

“Whatever,” said Shari. “The flowers made the recipe. How can you not love cupcakes with fresh flowers on them?”

“I think our meat loaf rocked it,” Andy said, bouncing back up again and pacing in front of the window.

“I think our meat loaf is going to win,” said Linda. “But will you sit the fuck down, Andy? You’re driving everybody crazy.”

“Hey, I’m a mover and a shaker,” he said. “I’m a wild man.” He made a pelvic-thrusting motion.

“You’re manic,” I said. “Get off your high horse.”

He started moving like he was riding a bucking bronco. “Yee ha!” he said. “You can ride me anytime.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” I said.

“That’s what she said,” Andy said.

“I know one recipe that isn’t going to win. A stupid salad,” said Katie, sulking.

“Hey, I resent that,” said Sadie, tossing her long braid behind her back. “The only thing she didn’t like about our salad was your horrible dressing.”

“Bitch,” Katie muttered.

“You know, Katie, you seem to have an anger problem,” I said. The lack of sleep was stripping away what little subtlety I had.

“A what?” she said, jumping up, like she wanted to take it outside.

“Do you even remember that we’ve met before?” I said, getting more and more irritated.

“No,” Katie said, scrunching up her nose. “I don’t know you. Thank God. I hardly think I would have hung around with your type.”

“What do you mean my ‘type’?” I said.

“I mean, there’s me, and then there’s you. The two don’t mix.”

“Well they’re mixing now,” I said. “We’ll see who’s who when this is all over.”

“Whatever,” she said. “Bitch.”

“You’re just mad because I wouldn’t let you dance on the bar at Hearst Castle,” I said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, reddening.

Chaz put his hand on my knee. I took a deep, calming breath. Katie looked wildly around at everyone. Suddenly, she seemed to deflate. “I need some licorice,” she said, and stormed off to the kitchen, where she kept a huge stash of candy.

Shari raised her eyebrows. “Can you say ‘blood sugar issues’?” she said.

“Why don’t you just leave her alone,” said Nadine directly to me.

“You want
me
to leave
her
alone, Queen Nadine?” I said. Ever since she’d passed me the note about sleeping with Hugh Pritzker, I wasn’t sure what to make of her. Was she trying to befriend me, or get me in trouble? Now that she was roomies with Katie, who obviously hated me, I could tell I was no longer on her good side, if I ever was.

The front door opened and one of the producers walked in. “It’s decision time,” he said. “Let’s go, everyone.”

We all stood up and a new wave of nerves swept over me. Shari came up and squeezed my hand. “It’s between you and me,” she whispered. “I’ll be happy if it’s either one of us!”

“Me, too,” I said. “I’m glad you’re here.” I felt supported with Shari around. She was confident and less nervous than the others, and that calmed me. But I also knew we were both in it to win.

“Some of you did very
well on this challenge. And some of you did not,” said Sybil, as she came into the meeting room, where we all sat, nervous and on edge, waiting for the verdict. She walked brusquely to the table. “You all remember Hugh Pritzker.” She motioned to the door as he came bursting in, followed by Alice and Ruby. “And of course, you remember my sister and colleague Alice Hunter and
Domestic Goddess Magazine
’s executive food editor, Ruby Prasad.”

Ruby and Alice nodded.

“We’ve been very busy this afternoon in the Sybil Hunter Test Kitchen,” Sybil said. “We’ve tested every single one of your recipes. In many cases, I have to say, the results varied from what I saw and tasted when you created your own recipes. But there were a few standouts … and one winner.”

My heart beat faster. It had to be me. It just had to be me. I shot Chaz a look. He smiled nervously.

Sybil continued, “Your recipes were judged not just on results, but on ease of preparation, simplicity of ingredients, and on how well the final product could be photographed for the Recipes 2 Go splash page on the ePhone. We also took into account input from the guests at our reception. A few of you did
not
measure up.”

“First of all, I didn’t like Team Three’s salad,” said Ruby. “There was nothing to it. It wasn’t really a recipe at all. It was raw vegetables in a bowl,” she said. “And the dressing was just terrible.”

“The dressing was indeed terrible,” Sybil agreed. “Inedible. Whose idea was that dressing?”

“Katie made that dressing,” said farmer Sadie. “I had nothing to do with it. And I have to say that while I understand a salad may not exactly be a recipe, the point was to feature and celebrate the most vibrant organic produce that New York has to offer—”

Sybil interrupted her. “Nobody is going to look to an ePhone to choose the best tomato,” she said, dismissively.

“Team Two’s cookies were vile,” said Alice. “They tasted like cardboard.”

“One of your bellboys could come up with something better than those cookies,” Sybil said to Christophe, the concierge, who looked humiliated. “And Mikki, as an event planner, didn’t you taste the cookies before you served them?”

“Yes,” Mikki said, quietly. “I thought they were”—she glanced at Christophe—“I thought they were OK.”

“They most certainly were not OK,” said Sybil.

“I had to spit mine out,” said Ruby.

“In the test kitchen, the recipe didn’t even work,” said Alice. “The cookies fell apart.”

“And I’m afraid I wasn’t a big fan of Team Five,” Sybil said, finally.

“What?” I couldn’t help saying out loud. “How can you say that? Everyone loved my mojitos!
You
loved them!”

Sybil looked annoyed that I was arguing with her.

“The drink itself was acceptable,” she said. “But I wasn’t a fan of the presentation, and I don’t think it’s reasonable to expect the average ePhone user to squeeze all those lemons by hand.”

“
You
would squeeze all those lemons by hand,” I countered. “You know you would.”

“Yes, but this particular challenge was not about what I would do; it was about creating an appropriate ePhone app. The taste was fine, but the implementation of the idea was lacking, and you can’t make up for an impractical idea with a beehive hairdo and a silly apron.” Ouch.