Bonus Chapter 8: Hungry
"Thank goodness you guys are here." Adam breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped back to allow Lumiere and Cogsworth into his apartment. His friends marched over to the kitchen island, each depositing a heavy armload of books with a loud thump.
"We brought the cookbooks like you asked," Cogsworth replied, shaking out his arms to relieve the strained muscles. He turned to Adam with a puzzled expression. "You want to tell us what this is all about now?"
"Well ...," Adam began, in the tone of a man about to confess a grave mistake, "I may have offered to make dinner for Belle."
Lumiere tilted his head and frowned. "Since when do you cook?"
"I ... don't."
"Then why did you -,"
"I don't know!" Adam blurted. He began to pace the living room, unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists as he wore a path from the door to the window. "The words came out before I even realized what I was saying! She kissed me, and my mind kind of went all fuzzy, and all I knew was that I wanted a reason to see her again." He sank onto the couch and dropped his head into his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. "You don't have to tell me that it was a dumb plan," he mumbled at the floor, bracing himself for his friends' reproach. But when several seconds passed without either of them saying a word, he looked up. To his amazement, they were actually smiling at him.
"It sounds like your date went well," Lumiere observed slyly.
Adam blinked. "Yeah, it did. Really well, actually."
Lumiere walked over to the couch and crouched in front of Adam, so that he was looking him straight in the eye. "Then we'll make sure the second one is just as good. Won't we, Charlie?"
Cogsworth nodded firmly. "We'll do our best. So what are you going to make for her?"
"I have absolutely no idea," Adam admitted with a laugh, visibly relaxing for the first time since his friends arrived. "That's why I called you guys. I hoped you might have some ideas, Charlie. You're the closest thing I know to a chef."
Cogsworth puffed up his chest proudly, but a snort of laughter escaped Lumiere. "Watching Food Network 24/7 hardly makes him Julia Child."
Cogsworth scowled at his friend. "Oh fine, then why don't you try making dinner every now and then?"
Lumiere shrugged indifferently. "You don't let me use the good cookware."
"That's because you put my nonstick pans in the dishwasher!" Cogsworth retorted accusingly.
"How was I supposed to know they couldn't go in there?" Lumiere responded in exasperation. "Who buys dishes that can't go in the dishwasher?" There was a weariness in his voice that suggested that he and Cogsworth had had this same argument many, many times.
"Everyone knows that! Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were raised by wolves!"
Lumiere's eyes widened. "Oh, so now you wanna drag my parents into this? And after all of the times they -,"
"Guys, can we please get back to my problem here?" Adam pleaded, trying desperately to put an end to his friends' bickering before it could escalate.
Lumiere stuck his tongue out at Cogsworth, but swallowed any further words of disagreement. Cogsworth narrowed his eyes at Lumiere and jutted his chin, giving his head a snide little shake. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep, calming breath, and turned to Adam. "Sorry, Adam. So when are you making dinner for Belle?"
"Uh ... tomorrow?" Adam cringed in anticipation of the inevitable outcry from his friends, but they surprised him for the second time that morning. Lumiere and Cogsworth looked at each other wordlessly, and then exchanged small, decisive nods.
"Right, then. In that case, we'll need a recipe that you can get comfortable with in one day," Cogsworth suggested authoritatively. "Nothing that's too advanced or takes too long to prepare." He strode to the kitchen and selected two cookbooks from the top of one of the stacks, and handed Lumiere and Adam each one book. Then he chose a third book for himself before taking a seat on one of the bar stools.
"What are we looking for?" Lumiere asked, taking the seat next to Cogsworth and flipping to the table of contents.
"Preferably something that doesn't have more than, say, ten, ingredients. And nothing too exotic. Also, something that doesn't require any sort of specialized cooking equipment - er, you do have the basics, at least? Pots, pans, a couple of good knives?"
"Uh, yeah, I think so." Adam nodded uncertainly.
"Good. Then let's get to work."
The first five minutes passed in relative silence as Adam, Cogsworth, and Lumiere searched their respective books for a suitable recipe; the only sounds were the occasional shuffling of paper or creak of a stool. Adam scanned page after page of recipes without really understanding what he was looking at; all he knew was that if he couldn't pronounce the name of a dish, it was probably too ambitious for him to attempt to cook. He reached for a new book as Lumiere hummed thoughtfully.
"This one has some interesting recipes," Lumiere offered. "How about beef ragoût?"
"In June?" Cogsworth shook his head. "Too heavy."
"Cheese soufflé?" Lumiere tried again.
"Too complicated."
"Pie and puddling en flambé - these all look complicated!" Lumiere complained, slamming his book shut and pushing it across the counter as if trying to put as much distance between himself and the offending pages as possible.
"Well I'm sorry I didn't bring a copy of Cooking for Dummies!" Cogsworth exclaimed testily. "No offense, Adam," he quickly muttered in a lower voice.
Adam held up his hands. "None taken."
"Here," Cogsworth suggested with a sigh, sliding an Italian cookbook over to Lumiere. "Try this one."
Lumiere accepted the book and began to flip through the pages. "Here's a good one," he proposed in a joking tone, purposely trying to lighten the mood. "Penne with vodka sauce. If you add enough booze to the sauce, she won't even notice you can't cook."
"You do realize the alcohol burns off, right?" Cogsworth rolled his eyes. "Just like when you make Marsa - wait. Can I see that?" Lumiere passed the book to him. Cogsworth's eyes darted back and forth, quickly skimming the recipe. He began to nod excitedly. "This is good, actually. This is really good. This is pretty easy. Does Belle like Italian food? Of course she likes Italian food, who doesn't like Italian food? This is it, this is what you should make!" He motioned for Lumiere to hand him a pen and a piece of paper, and then he began to furiously scribble down a shopping list. "There!' he announced triumphantly, throwing the pen onto the counter. "Now, where's the nearest grocery store?"
It was after one o'clock by the time they returned to Adam's apartment, each of them with several heavy bags of groceries in tow.
"Ok," said Cogsworth, as he started to unpack the bags. "Adam, if you can grab a cutting board, a knife, and a saucepan, I'll help you get started making the sauce."
"What can I do?" Lumiere asked.
"You can be our test subject. Just hang tight for twenty minutes or so, and when we've finished making the pasta, you can be the first to try it."
Lumiere grinned. "Looks like I get the easy job," he said agreeably as he flopped onto the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. If he had known then how wrong he would turn out to be, he might have argued harder for a different job.
Adam required more than a few practice runs before he was able to successfully prepare the recipe. Even Cogsworth's expert coaching couldn't prevent a slew of mishaps that occurred at, mostly, Lumiere's expense. On the first attempt, the sauce was too spicy; a single bite was all it took to send Lumiere into a prolonged fit of coughing. His eyes watered, his chest convulsed, and he gestured frantically for a drink.
"Here," Cogsworth urged, sliding a glass of water across the counter, "drink this."
Lumiere shot him a grateful look before guzzling down the entire glass like a man dying of thirst. "Thanks," he gasped, his shoulders sagging with relief as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Cogsworth turned to Adam. "How much red pepper flake did you put in there?" he asked suspiciously.
"Uh ...," Adam began, glancing at the recipe, "one spoonful?"
"Which spoon?" Cogsworth pressed, looking over Adam's shoulder at the book.
"This one," Adam answered, holding up the largest measuring spoon on the ring.
Cogsworth looked down at the floor and rubbed his temple. Then he took a long, deep breath. "That's a tablespoon. The recipe calls for a teaspoon - see here? t - s - p. Small letters, small spoon."
"Oh," Adam winced. "Sorry, man," he apologized, looking sheepishly at Lumiere. "I'll get it right next time."
Lumiere waved a hand. "I'm fine," he assured them hoarsely. "Although, if this is a taste of things to come, I think I'm going to fill my glass with something a little stronger next time," he joked, reaching for the large bottle of vodka on the edge of the counter.
On the second try, Adam was so intent on measuring the proper amount of red pepper flakes that he forgot to stir the ingredients sautéing in the pan and ended up burning them. The smoke detector beeped shrilly as he and Cogsworth scrambled around the apartment, flinging open every window in the living area. Lumiere climbed onto the counter and attempted to fan the smoke away from the alarm unit with a dish towel. As Adam stood over the sink several minutes later, trying to scrape charred garlic from the pan, Lumiere poured a shot of vodka for Cogsworth before helping himself to an even larger serving.
By the fifth try, Adam had finally gotten the hang of making the sauce. However, he undercooked the pasta.
"It tastes better crunchy," Lumiere offered helpfully. "No, really." But Cogsworth merely shook his head and steered Adam back toward the stove.
The next time, Adam overcompensated and cooked the pasta too long. Lumiere's fork stuck straight up in his bowl, held firmly in place by the mushy, gooey clump of noodles. He cleared his throat hesitantly. "It's not that I don't want to be a team player ... but do I really have to eat that?"
"This is hopeless," Adam groaned.
Cogsworth slumped over the counter and mumbled some unintelligible words of agreement. Then he sat up suddenly. "What time is Belle coming over tomorrow?"
"Five o'clock," Adam responded.
Cogsworth nodded eagerly to himself. "I think I may have the solution." Adam's eyes widened hopefully. "Why don't I just come over early tomorrow - say, three - and cook dinner for you? It'll be quick, and easy, and I can be long gone by the time Belle shows up. All you'll need to do is heat everything up just before she arrives - try not to burn it - and it'll look like you've been cooking it. She'll be impressed, you can take the credit, and everyone survives dinner unscathed."
"Brilliant!" Lumiere announced.
Adam hesitated. It was a tempting offer ... and yet, "Isn't that lying?"
"Well, technically," Lumiere hedged. "But it would be a harmless lie, like 'You're sister's not prettier than you,' or 'I was holding those DVDs for a friend.'"
"I was holding those DVDs for a friend!" Cogsworth insisted.
"My point is, what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Certainly no more than your cooking might. It's a good plan. Nice thinking, Charlie." Lumiere nodded approvingly.
Adam frowned. "I don't know. I mean, I appreciate you trying to help. And I do want to impress her. But I want her to be impressed with something I did, not something you did and I'm just taking the credit for. Besides, I don't think it's a good idea to start lying to her on our second date."
"Yes, you should definitely save the lying for later," Cogsworth muttered bitterly.
"I'm sorry, Charlie," Adam replied, trying earnestly to smooth things over with his friend. "You've been really patient with me - you too, Jean - and I understand if you guys want to call it quits. I can take it on my own from here."
"Who said anything about quitting?" Cogsworth frowned as if he had been deeply insulted.
"I just assumed, -"
"We've stuck it out this long," Lumiere agreed. "Besides, I think my stomach has finally been beaten into submission - I can handle whatever you can dish out at this point. What do you say we give it one more try, at least?"
Adam looked down at the floor and bit his lip. Then he looked back up at his friends and nodded gratefully. "OK," he said. "Let's do this."
Lumiere clapped his hands together. "Seventh time's a charm," he declared optimistically.
And it appeared that he was right. Adam made certain to be extra attentive to Cogsworth's instructions this time around, and his determination paid off.
"This ... is delicious, actually," Lumiere announced as he dug into the pasta.
"Really?" Adam asked, not daring to believe his ears.
"Here, let me try," Cogsworth said, reaching for a fork. He took a bite of the pasta, and his face broke into a smile. "He's right. This is really good, Adam."
Adam eyed his friends suspiciously; they appeared to be sincere. He grabbed a fork and tried the pasta for himself. And then he grinned in disbelief. "This is good." Lumiere held his hand up for a high five, which Adam returned with glee. "I can't believe we're finally done. Who needs a drink?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Cogsworth interjected. "Don't celebrate yet - we're not done. You need to make it again," he clarified, when Adam made a noise of protest.
"Why do I need to make it again?" Adam asked, with an edge of desperation in his voice.
"We have to make sure that you can repeat your success," Cogsworth explained. "When you make this for Belle, you want it to be almost second nature."
"He's right," Lumiere concurred. "Let's run through it a few more times, just to be sure."
"All right," Adam conceded reluctantly. "Here we go again ..."
Four hours later, the sky outside had grown dark, Lumiere had eaten nearly his weight in pasta, and Adam was confident that he could make dinner for Belle without making any major mistakes. "Thanks again, guys," Adam said as his friends made their way to the door. "I owe you one - both of you."
"What are friends for?" Lumiere groaned, clutching his stomach weakly. "Just please do me one favor, and we'll call it even."
"Anything," Adam swore.
"Next time you invite a girl over for dinner, order out."