The Accidental TV Star (14 page)

Garrett winked at me.

“What are you doing here?” I said.

“I’m your guest host.” He held out his palm. “I require the tasting spoon,” he demanded in a serious tone. The director handed it to him.

Will hurried to his station. He leaned in as he passed me. “Slide home, small town.”

Garrett came up to my table first.

I waved my hand at my layered dip and spoke to the camera. “This dish is called Nine Layers of Conflict.”

Garrett scooped up a large portion of the nine-layer dip on a chip and ate it. He tapped the spoon on my table. “Perfection,” Garrett said, drawing out the
r’s.
“Tastes amazing. A visually appealing culinary work of genius.” He turned to the camera. “If fairies came across from the other planets and demanded astonishing fare, and humans wanted to comply, we’d serve them food created by Chef Marissa. A stunning success.”

I grinned and shook my head. The dip was good, but not that good. Turning to the others, I said, “Garrett always says stuff like that. He loves food.”

Cal relaxed and pushed his casserole forward. “I call this, Banana Bite Chicken Delight. The fresh banana kicks a touch of sweetness to go along with the crispy chicken.”

Garrett narrowed in on Cal and stuck the tasting spoon in the center of the entrée. He dug up a piece and held it up to the camera, letting the sauce drip over the sides. “Day ten of a survival show. Ignorant of nature’s bounties, I’m starving. No food in sight. I’d still not eat this.” He dropped the spoon onto the counter.
Clank.

Cal’s jaw dropped open.

Garrett wiped the spoon off and moved on to Grandma’s star-spangled croissant-hotdog and brie roll-ups. He stood in front of her, waiting while she made a heart-shape with her two hands and held it over her heart.

“
Homespun Hotdogs,
”
Grandma said.

Garrett looked from Grandma’s dish to her warm eyes. “Imagine this. I’m starving so I track a gazelle across the Serengeti. The gazelle’s three days ahead of me. It trips in a hole, breaks its hind leg, and dies. I reach it, a full three days later. The rotten, buzzard-pecked carcass lies before me. Then some fateful intervention lays your dish beside the gazelle, giving me a choice.” He paused, leaned in, and spoke slowly, “I’d choose the gazelle.”

Grandma sputtered and Garrett moved on to Will’s station. Will stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes straight ahead.

“Introduce your dish,” Garrett said.

“
Himalayan White Curry Chili Crepe
.”

Garrett leaned down and sniffed. He rose and said, “If a foul monkey wanted to fling something at his worst animal kingdom enemy, he’d choose your entrée.” He turned the back of tasting spoon to Will and walked away.

Silence reigned in the wake of his footsteps.

I saw the episode going down the drain with last week’s cuttings. “Garrett! That’s not how you do this.” I caught him and took the tasting spoon from his unresisting grip. I went back to dish one and hacked into the casserole. Carefully, I took a bite. The freakish combination went together and the smooth crunch worked. “Cal. This duo needs a divorce. But as singles you can date them. Great seasoning on the chicken.”

Garrett held my wrist up to his mouth and finished off the spoonful. “Disgusting. If bananas grew under the swamp and could only be retrieved by diving chickens—rancid fowl that then crawled upon the shore and threw their feathered bodies on sacrificial fires like the Vikings of old—then there’d be an excuse for this dish.”

Cal saluted him off the gator’s snout. “Hot doggit. You have been to Louisiana!”

Garrett’s lips twitched.

I moved on to Grandma’s dish. The pastry wasn’t bad, but the hotdogs were a touch too much. “The croissant is superb. But adding the hotdog is like sending your ex a Dear John letter after you’ve already broken up with him via text—overkill.”

Will. I worried about his dishes. I moved to his table. Garrett, eating one of the hotdog rollups, watched with narrowed eyes. I took a small bite of the chili-laden crepe. My shoulders sagged. Perfect. “If the Taj Mahal moved next door to the Louvre and had a cookout—they’d serve this dish. Astonishingly good.”

I raised my eyebrows and held up the spoon. “Garrett.”

Garrett turned away and shoved another bite of croissant in his mouth. I put my hand on my hip and raised the spoon higher. Garrett chewed, swallowed the croissant, and said. “When France and England unite on what ingredients make up fine chocolate—that’s when I’ll try Will’s dish.”

“What does that even mean?” I pinched off a piece of the crepe and walked toward him. “Taste this. The layered texture melts in your mouth.” I grabbed his wrist with my free hand, forcing him to put down the hotdog and try the golden bread.

I turned back to Will. “Tell the audience how you achieved the perfect thin crepe.”

Garrett’s fingers on my chin turned me back to him. “He’s not perfect. You should not admire him. If I were to go camping and we packed that dish and had to suffer his company or not eat for three days, we wouldn’t eat. As a chef, he’s tainted the product as surely as if he coated those talons he calls fingernails with vile poison.”

Will grabbed a hunk of his dish and drew back his arm. “F. U. Scotty.” The chili-covered crepe flew through the air, splattering across Garrett’s shirt.

Garrett laughed. “If you had better aim and hit my mouth, I’d still not taste your dish.”

Will jerked up another handful of his chili.

Sharp claps from the doorway interrupted the culinary moment.

Ms. Sims had arrived.

The director’s mouth twisted. “Places, people.” She gestured to the wall. “Marissa, Garrett, clean aprons please. Garrett, you can join Marissa at her table.

My nerves hit me. The real test was about to happen. Garrett and I donned clean aprons and went back to my table. I grabbed the edge of the counter and waited while Ms. Sims took her bite. Expressionless, she went around the room.

“I have made my decision.” Ms. Sims walked to the main camera and took out one of her doggy bags.

Everything in me tensed. Ms. Sims stared at my table. “Garrett, as guest host, will you join me?”

Garrett squeezed my arm and moved to the front.

Ms. Sims turned to face the camera. She framed the cowering dog with her hand. “Grandma Gert. You’ve been scooped out. Enjoy this at home because you can’t eat it here.”

Gert gasped. Garrett grinned and gave me a thumb’s up.

I couldn’t keep from smiling.

“Grandma Gert, please come to the front of the room and accept the doggy bag,” Sara said.

The director stirred the air with her hand, cueing the rest of us. Cal, Will, Garrett, and I began to bark.

Gert didn’t move.

The director’s mouth tightened. “Hannah, help her out.” She waved her hand, and we continued barking. “Keep going, guys.”

Hannah moved over to Gert’s table. “Sorry, Gert. Final four is incredible and should get you a book deal or have some cache with your agent. But you’ve been scooped out, so you have to go now.”

Gert shook her head. She grabbed the end of Hannah’s ponytail and her butcher knife.

She held the blade high. “You have Sara’s hair.”

Everyone froze except the cameraman, who zoomed in.

Chapter Six

Gert smiled at the cameraman, her attention more on him than on the knife she held above Hannah.

“Let go of my daughter,” Sara Sims said, her voice tight.

Daughter. Oh. Hannah did look like Sara. I should have recognized the connection. After that inane thought, I snapped back to the reality of the situation.

“Grandma Gert!” Hannah said, sounding shocked. She turned her head to look at Gert, but Gert’s hand tightened, holding her still.

“Just going out with a bang, deary,” Gert said.

I eased toward them and held out my palms. “Not funny, Gert. Let her go.”

Grandma bared her teeth at the camera. “I’ll hang Sara’s hair from my apron like a raccoon tail. A prize.”

Loon. “That’s not Sara’s hair. It’s Hannah’s. Let her go now.”

Gert flapped her elbows and centered her body to the camera. With the motion, her feet slid and the knife went straight through the extended ponytail. The long pale blonde hair dangled from her grasp. “Oh,” Gert said, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

I dove, slamming into her bony knees and knocked her back. We fell against the hard floor and I heard the knife clank on the ground, still tight in her grip. I didn’t let go either and rolled my body over her legs. Then Garrett was there, prying the knife away. Cal and Will each grabbed one of Gert’s arms and hauled her up. I rolled onto my butt and looked up at them.

Hannah stood off to the side, eyes wide, face pale, her hand to the back of her neck.

“Take her out to security,” the director said, a touch of excitement in her voice.

Cal and Will led an unresisting Grandma Gert to the door.

Ms. Sims hurried over to Hannah, her usual languid grace replaced with an unusual clumsiness.

I pulled up and rushed over too, my heart pounding. “You okay?” I asked, looking for any signs that Gert had nicked anything other than strands of hair. She hadn’t from what I could see.

“I’m okay,” Hannah said. Her voice trembled and the hand not clutching the back of her hair covered her mouth.

“You don’t go near someone with a knife,” Ms. Sims said in a rushed voice. “What were you thinking, Hannah?”

“I’m fine,” Hannah said. Her face went from pale to bright red. “I’ll just… Uh…I…umm.” She glanced around the room with wide, wild blue eyes. “I have to go.”

“I’ll get the cleanup,” I said. “Or, do you want me to go with you?” I checked the jagged ends of her hair. “We can get it evened up.”

“No thanks,” Hannah said, backing toward the door with her hand over her nape.

Sara Sims hurried after her.

Unnerved, I hung up my apron.

Garrett took off his stained shirt and moved to the sink. The cameraman stumbled in his haste to follow him and zoom in. From the back, Garrett had the body of an Olympic swimmer. All those laps had paid off. He turned on the faucet and wiped his chest off with a towel. He didn’t mind the camera at all. I went to the director and got an extra
Scoop Out
T-shirt in Garrett’s size. He shrugged it on. The director would have a ton of shots to pick from for this week’s promo.

Garrett shook his head. “
Scoop Out’s
more dangerous to film than I would have thought.”

The director said, “We’ll be in touch about what to say about this unfortunate incident. Don’t say anything to the media until you hear from us. This falls under your confidentiality clause.” Her words were somber, but a light gleamed in her eyes and she grinned. I knew she was imagining the ratings.

We headed for the door and I had a strong urge to take his hand. I wrapped my arms around my waist so I wouldn’t.

“I was wrong,” Garrett said to me. “It wasn’t the cleaner you had to watch out for, it was Grandma.”

“She had an affinity for knives. I shouldn’t have missed that. Living on the hill is making me lose my survival instincts.”

We left our small corridor and saw Karla Quintos. She motioned for her ever-present cameraman to wait. My survival instincts kicked in and I hung back. Garrett kept walking.

Karla met him midway. “I heard you were in the building.” She ran a fingertip down his arm. “Are you here to see me?” A confident smile crossed her shellacked lips. “I can take a break and we can grab a drink in my trailer. Interested?” She touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip.

Garrett took a step away and held a hand back to me. “I’m dating Marissa now, so that’s not going to happen.”

Karla’s shocked gaze ran over Garrett’s T-shirt and landed on me. “You’re dating Star Stalker?” An unflattering level of disbelief colored her voice. Her mouth tightened and she waved at the cameraman. “We don’t need a shot of this. Let’s go.”

I brushed past them. I had no time for Karla’s faux news. I wanted to call Hannah and check on her.

***

“Garrett, we have to talk,” his agent said, making herself comfortable on his couch.

I carried a tray of cut veggies and a variety of dips over and placed it on his coffee table. The agent snacked while I brought in a pitcher of homemade lemonade.

“Thanks,” Garrett said.

His agent looked at me. “This is good.” She took another bite. “Really good. I’ll have to get your card.”

Garrett shook his head. “Marissa has a job.”

The agent ignored that and wiped her hands on her napkin. “Sit with us, Marissa. This concerns you too.” She looked me full in the face. “Please don’t take offense, but there’s TV and then there’s movies. Put bluntly, movies pay more.”

I leaned back against the couch. “Everyone knows that.”

“One of my contacts at the studio informed me about Garrett’s guest stint on
Scoop Out
. That type of stunt dilutes his brand.”

Garrett’s lips tightened. “I’ll do what I want.”

“Well, I haven’t seen a ton of new projects flying your way. But I do have one or two in mind. Dark dramas.”

He grimaced and didn’t appear interested.

I glanced at the script shoved into the couch cushion. He’d been reading Max’s script again. I made a subtle pointing gesture and raised my eyebrows.

Garrett flushed and shook his head.

His agent rose. She shook his hand. “Make your own choices. I respect that. I don’t know how long it will work for you, but I’m not doing my job if I don’t give you fair warning. No more TV.” She handed me her card. “Call me if you want me to set up some catering gigs.”

“Cool, thanks.”

She headed out and I took her space by Garrett. I sat cross-legged with my forearms on my knees and flipped her card between my hands. “A separate gig, that’s cool.”

“I think you’re busy working for me and don’t need another job.” He snagged a carrot and ate it.

I put the card down. I’d call her later. “About what your agent said. Did it get you in trouble, helping me out?”