The next morning a stage hand called me at the dorms and told me Chef Ramsay needed to speak with me immediately. I could feel a lump in my throat start to form. What now? I quickly pulled my hair in a messy bun and practically ran out the door. On my way to the kitchens I took a look at what I was wearing – a skin-tight Iggy Pop t-shirt and wrinkly pajama pants. My outfit definitely wasn't the most glamorous I owned but it would have to do.
I knocked on the door of Chef Ramsay's office. He opened the door for me and let me in. He took one look and me and scoffed,
"Jesus, what the fuck are you wearing?"
I shrugged my shoulders. Before I had a chance to explain my attire, Chef Ramsay sighed.
"They know about us," he said, with a disappointed look on his face.
"Oh… What's going to happen now?"
"They're afraid of a media shit storm. They told me to get rid of you; otherwise the show will get cancelled. And I'm sure as hell not going to explain that to my wife!"
"So… This is it? I'm gone?"
"Well, face it, darling, it's not like you were going to win anyway. You're really not that great of a cook."
I could feel my heart break. This was my dream, being flushed down the toilet.
"What will happen to us?" I asked, with more fear in my voice than I would have liked.
"I'm risking getting caught cheating again and you're worried about what happens to us?! Holy fuck. Definitely time to break it off."
I was crushed. I'd let my master down and now I would have to leave the competition. Chef Ramsay promised me the editors would make it look inconspicuous, a family emergency of some sort. However, I wasn't very comforted by this. I knew he was just doing some serious damage control to cover his own ass.
I handed Chef Ramsay my chef's jacket and thanked him for my time there. I then went upstairs to the dorms, packed my bag and unceremoniously left the building. I didn't say goodbye to the other contestants as I didn't want to make up some crazy story about fake family drama. I was so disappointed I could have cried.
