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Ella
Today isn’t going as well as I’d hoped.
It started off okay until Kennedy had to interrupt us, yet again.
She’d come by with Ruby, to show us Blake’s publicity photographs. I hadn’t even realized they’d taken any, but I guessed that was where he’d disappeared to on Monday, when Ruby sent him to see Kennedy. The pictures themselves were fantastic, and I’d be the first to admit, Blake looked very sexy in them… but it was obvious he was uncomfortable about them. I was wondering about that, and if there was anything I could do or say to help the situation, when Kennedy asked to see me privately. I assumed I must have done something wrong, but couldn’t say ‘no’, and we went into the side kitchen.
The moment we were in there, she turned to face me.
“Are you related to Drew Bennett?” she said, surprising me.
“Yes. He’s my brother.”
She frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t realize you knew him. I’m not in the habit of going around telling people who I’m related to, just in case they happen to have met.”
“That’s not the point.” She seemed flustered, although I couldn’t work out why.
“Then what is?”
“That I didn’t realize who you are…”
I knew then that she wasn’t talking about me just being Drew’s sibling, but his multi-millionaire sibling. I saw that fact registering on her face, even as we were speaking.
Her reaction has been bothering me ever since, and I’ve struggled to concentrate on anything else. I don’t know how long she’s been aware of the connection between myself and Drew, but I can’t help wondering if that’s why she didn’t argue back yesterday when I told her to stop calling me ‘dear’. If she’d begun to suspect who I am, maybe she thought better of bickering with me… and if that’s the case, does it mean things between us will get better, or worse? They surely can’t get any worse, can they? I suppose they could, if it transpires the connection between her and Drew is that they slept together. She didn’t say anything about how she knows him, but would she, if they’d been in a relationship? And would Drew have slept with her in the first place? God… could it be that he turned her down? She’s a lot older than him, but I know almost nothing about his taste in women. I’m not about to call him and ask, either. I’m not sure I want to know. Besides, I’ve got far too much to do. Aside from all the food I need to prepare, I’m very distracted today.
It’s Blake who’s the cause of that. I know he keeps looking at me, even though every time I glance in his direction, he seems to be focused on his script. I can still feel his eyes on me every so often, though. It’s like there’s a switch inside me that seems to flick on every time he looks at me.
I raise my head again, only this time, instead of finding him staring at his script, he’s looking straight at me, and I pause, about to slice into the zucchini, my knife poised. He puts down his script, but doesn’t move, and just continues to stare for ages, his lips twisting into a smile. I smile back, and after a few moments more, he gets up, leaving his script behind, and walksover. He’s not wearing his apron yet, and I can’t help noticing the way his tight t-shirt clings to every contour of every muscle. It makes me wonder if the point of this show isn’t so much about the food as about Blake himself… or Blain, as we’re supposed to call him. I’m not going to… not now I know how much he hates it, which is almost as much as he seems to hate his costume.
Kennedy and Vivian’s response to him yesterday, when he came back from the men’s room, was almost feral, and it would have been amusing, if it wasn’t for the fact that it clearly made Blake so uneasy. What was interesting, though, was that as soon as he could escape Kennedy’s clutches, he came and stood right beside me, like I made him feel safe. I think that was when I realized that, in his shoes, if someone had insisted I had to wear something so revealing, I’d have felt exactly the same… and would almost certainly have refused. I thought then – and have thought even harder since – about the way Kennedy had behaved toward him, and it made me angry. She was using her authority and her power over him, and expecting him to be flattered. As he stood beside me, I understood my privileged position better than ever. I can afford to lose this job, I can answer back and take the consequences, just because I’m rich. Hell… I could probably afford to buy the studio, if I felt like it. But Blake has to take whatever Kennedy throws at him… and that’s not fair.
“I noticed the food was already unpacked today,” he says, coming around the island unit and standing quite close… although it’s not as close as I’d like him to be.
“Yeah. I spoke to Ruby before I went home yesterday, and told her that whoever delivered the food needed to unpack it, too. It seems it was Vivian’s job to organize that, so she was told to make sure it was done properly today.”
He chuckles. “I bet she loved that. Especially as she’d already been told off once in front of you.”
“She wasn’t entirely thrilled about it.”
“We seem to have extra supplies… and two legs of lamb.”
“I guess they’re expecting us to do more than one run-through today.”
He continues to stare at me, and I can’t bring myself to break the moment and look away. There’s something in his eyes which is different from yesterday, but I’m not sure what it is.
“Where do you want to start?” he says, breaking the moment for me, and although I’m disappointed by that, there’s no escaping the fact that we’ve got work to do.
“I was wondering if you wanted to go through your lines first, and just act out the preparation elements, rather than having to actually do them?” I look up at him and he frowns slightly, staring down at the countertop, which is littered with vegetables, garlic and herbs.
“But you’ve done all this work.”
“I know… and it’ll keep. I just think, with hindsight, it might be best if we focus on one thing at a time, don’t you?”
“Yes… as long as that’s okay with you. I’m a lot more nervous about this than I thought I would be, and I think it’ll help if I can get the lines right before I have to worry about pretending to be a chef again.”
I move a little closer, although I take care not to touch him. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about.” His eyes widen and I hope my words have helped, not hindered.
