Page 26 of The Last Autograph
Winston:I heard that Parker. Get back to work.
CeCe:Hey, M. Got any chocolate?
Molly:Nope. All gone. And I should be asleep by now.
CeCe:I really feel like some.
Molly:Same. Guess what? Jake Sinclair’s a client of SpinWeb.
CeCe:And you have to work with him?
Molly:No. He relegated me to the back of the line.
CeCe:Interesting.Something’s happening here. I can feel it in my bones.
Molly:Stop it and go to sleep.
CeCe:Just saying.
12
After two days of solid rain, bake-off day dawned sunny and clear, but as Molly tightened the tie of her robe and peered out across Gloria’s garden, she struggled to quell her nerves. What had she been thinking?
She stepped away from the window and into the bathroom, where her reflection, plain and pale, stared back at her from the mirror. It was days like this, when she’d be on display and judged by the public, that Molly wanted to hide her true self from the world with the help of her extensive makeuppalette.
In the past, she’d spend hours sculpting and contouring her features until, visually, she became an overly enhanced version of herself. However, as she slid ever closer to her twenty-ninth birthday, she’d vowed that girl was gone and convinced herself she was much happier for it.
The contestants had been told to arrive by nine, and as Molly entered the park, the place was already a hive of activity. She couldn’t believe the number of exhibitors—from food stalls to interior design to kitchen gadgets—it looked more like a large country fair than a food festival.
With the ground still damp underfoot, stallholders prepared their wares while anticipating the first sales of the day. And all around her, people ate breakfast out of brown paper wrappers and lined up in front of coffee carts.
Inside the institute building, most of the other contestants had already donned their aprons and were talking quietly amongst themselves. They’d had a rehearsal on Tuesday to familiarize themselves with the format, run by the previous year’s winner, but that had been in a commercial kitchen in the industrial sector, so this was the first time Molly had seen the actual setup.
With its high ceilings, stacking doors that opened onto the perimeter of the park grounds, and a huge walk-in pantry to one side, the place could have been purpose-built for filming a series ofMasterChef. Beyond the doors, a large open-ended tent butted up against the building to house the audience. The setup was truly world-class.
A man with the name Todd printed on a tag attached to the lanyard around his neck stepped forward with a welcoming smile and introduced himself as the event coordinator. He offered Molly a tan apron and a name tag with her chosen charity printed across the bottom.
After exchanging pleasantries with the other contestants, Molly stood behind her appointed station, in awe of the equipment before her. As she chatted with the guy next to her, a landscape architect named Mason, another man and a woman entered through a side door.
“Here we go.” Mason cocked his head toward them. “This will be the other two judges.”
As Molly shifted her attention to the front of the room, the male judge turned to face them.Shit!Dressed in a white linen shirt, black pants, and tan boots, with his hair slicked back off his forehead, Jake Sinclair greeted Todd with an understated handshake.
Hands clenched in front of her, Molly inhaled sharply as she watched him interact with the other judges, totally relaxed and full of smiles, while her heart felt as if it had been dumped into her stomach and trodden on with the heel of a muddy boot.
It appeared that Jake Sinclair, baker of the most deliciously sexy chocolate éclairs she’d ever tasted and arrogant asshole by what she assumed was default, would be judging her in the bake-off at the Petrie Park Culinary Institute that weekend.
Shit, shit, shit!
Jake ran an eye over the contestants and did a double take when his gaze fell on her. With brows knitted together, he stared for a moment as if to say,“WTF are you doing here?”before looking away. Feeling the heat creep up both cheeks, she picked up her water bottle and took several gulps as Todd raised a hand to quieten them.
“Listen up, everybody.” Todd spoke into a small rhinestone-covered microphone, the type she’d seen comedians use on social media. “Welcome to the Petrie Park Bake-off, generously sponsored by Lime Tree Hill. We have twenty contestants on the starting blocks this morning, but only ten of you will make it through to tomorrow’s round. So, give it your best shot, and let’s have some fun today, people.”
A few of the contestants chorused, “Yes, Chef.”
Todd cupped his ear. “What was that?”
“Yes, Chef!” everyone shouted in unison.
