A/N 1: First, this is not the sequel to Debate that you are looking for. That project is in the works, but I'm convinced that I'm one of the least efficient writers on this site. I did try to write the two stories simultaneously, but I had too hard of a time shifting the voice of each character from one story to the other. This is an entirely new AU.
Second, my thanks go out to Michael for volunteering to beta this story. His input greatly improved the story, and any remaining errors or issues were as a result of my continued tinkering after his input. Whenever this pandemic decides to leave us the hell alone, the first round of drinks will be on me, my friend.
*Any writing in italics indicate the thoughts of the character rather than spoken dialogue.
Chapter 1:
Saturday morning, Los Angeles, California
Sarah Walker looked around, taking in the twelve cooking stations temporarily assembled inside of the Maison 23 hotel in downtown Los Angeles. Her hair was pulled back into a tight chignon, the outer strands glowing gold in the fluorescent lighting of the Garden Room. Not a single hair was out of place. Her immaculately white apron was stiffly starched and cinched tightly about her waist. The brilliant white of the apron set off the stylish black slacks that ended just above the three-inch heels that would make her tower over most, if not all, of the competition.
Her eyes, often a brilliant cyan blue, were pearly grey as she assessed the seven people already milling about the room. Taking in every detail with what looked like a casual glance, Sarah evaluated the threat that each person posed. I've got this. She would make her *babcia* proud. Failure simply was not an option.
Her intense focus was shattered by the sound of laughter echoing through the spacious hall. Two men of her own age entered, clearly in good spirits. One was short with dark hair and a full beard. More miniature lumberjack than hipster chic. He, apparently, was mid-story as he gestured wildly about his head with his hands. As one of his arms swung backwards - What was he doing? Trying to re-enact what it looks like when someone gets hit by a taser? - he smacked into an easel holding up one of the promotional posters for the event. The poster went flying, tumbling end over end across the floor.
The odd little man froze in place, arms outstretched, eyes as wide as saucers. There was an unmistakable "oh shit" expression on his face. His friend was a study in contrast. Tall, taller than she was even in her heels, lanky and clean shaven. His hair was a mass of curls, waves and odd animal-like shapes. Where his short friend had on what were likely the most wrinkled pair of chinos known to humankind, the tall one sported well-worn blue jeans whose fading was clearly from years of use instead of the fashion fad of the moment. While the shorter one stood immobile, perhaps hoping in vain that if he impersonated a statue no one would realize that he was responsible for the mess, his taller friend quickly scrambled to reorient the easel and restore the event poster to its proper place.
A derisive snort pulled Sarah's attention away from the less than dynamic duo and onto a man to Sarah's left. While the man's clothes were finely made, the heavily starched khakis, the even more heavily starched white button-down shirt and pastel yellow tie were hardly a fashion statement. More of a fashion mumble. Objectively speaking, the man was handsome. His dark hair was trimmed short and kept in perfect order by generous use of product. However, he was clearly lacking any semblance of a personality. It was like a banana split made with only the banana and a single scoop of vanilla ice cream. Boring.
Sarah looked up as a heavy-set man stepped up to the stage set up at the front of the room. While the food editor for most newspapers might not be a household name or face, Michael "Big Mike" Tucker was not most food editors. He had won a closet full of awards for his work with the LA Times. Plus, his larger than life personality made him a popular guest on both local and national cooking shows. He was particularly renowned for his pastry cooking, having converted donuts from simple fried dough into culinary masterpieces.
"Allllllright," Big Mike boomed into the microphone, "welcome everyone to the 2020 Great Burbank Bake Off!" Big Mike started, chuckling to himself. "You see what I just did there? Burbank, not British?" His smug grin faded slightly. "Ok, moving on people. Today we've assembled fourteen of Southern California's finest amateur bakers. We've only got two weekends for this competition, not two months. So some rounds will be double elimination. When we get to the Final Four…" Big Mike looked around expectantly. "Nobody? Seriously? Man. Tough crowd." He shook his head before resuming. "Once we have our four finalists compete, the other judges and I will select our champion."
Big Mike then spread his arms wide. "Without further ado," he intoned to the group, "let's get baking!"
As Big Mike was finishing up his introduction, Sarah moved to the cooking station which she had been assigned. The room had been split into two rows of six stations, with hers being the second to last on the left-hand side. She noticed that the tall guy, who had helped make such a scene, was one of the other bakers. His station was on the right-hand side, one row ahead of her own.
While Sarah was intense, and cool to the point of being icy, this particular competitor was the complete opposite. He looked completely relaxed and was outgoing, chatting easily with everyone around him. She watched as he wandered over to the crew from the local PBS station that was filming the competition. He smiled and gave a quick nod to the producer, but started talking in earnest with the sound, lighting and camera operators. He appeared to be far more interested in how everything worked rather than how to get himself the most air-time in front of the camera. Sarah was surprised to realize that she was frowning as the camerawoman smiled widely as Sarah's fellow baker tilted his head back and laughed at whatever the woman had said. Sarah felt as though she was being left out of the conversation, even though she didn't actually know any of the people talking. As the film crew moved to set up for another shot, the whole crew sent him smiles and waves.
Her competitor was around her age, and had a ready smile, making him look cuter than Sarah had initially realized. While her own eyes were now intensely sapphire blue, his were a warm, chocolatey brown. Sarah suddenly realized that those expressive eyes were currently staring into her own. It felt like a physical blow when his seemingly ever-present smile dimmed as he gawked at her momentarily before breaking eye contact.
Sarah was accustomed to men's reactions to her beauty. The reactions tended to fall into one of two categories: gawking or leering. Regardless of which category a man fell into, the attention always made Sarah uncomfortable. She would be relieved when the man in question looked away. That standard response begged the question in this case: why was she disappointed rather than relieved when this random guy broke eye contact?
Thinking back, Sarah realized with a start that the entire time that the mystery man had been gawking, he had gazed into her eyes. Mystery Man. Not once had his eyes dropped down to check out her body. Huh. Sarah's disappointment morphed into jealousy as Sarah not only saw her old college roommate confidently stroll into the room, but then walk up and take the baking station directly behind the guy. The feeling of jealousy intensified when she saw her former friend greeted with a smile and handshake by Mystery Man. The rational part of her brain pointed out that it had been six years since the betrayal that had ended that friendship. However, the pain of that betrayal still stung Sarah.
As if the Fates weren't mocking Sarah hard enough by having the one and only Zondra Rizzo in the competition, Amy Monroe had quickly followed Zondra into the room. The perky blonde was smiling broadly as she practically bounced on her feet. It appeared that the two were still thick as thieves, and that Amy was in the competition as well. Amy stood at Zondra's station for a moment, idly moving around the containers on Zondra's spice rack while keeping up an incessant stream of chatter. I see that some things don't change.
And naturally, Mystery Man gave Amy a friendly smile as well. No gawking, no awkwardness. That, apparently, was reserved for Sarah and Sarah alone. However, she also noticed that while he was friendly to both Zondra and Amy, he didn't try to chat them up or flirt in any noticeable way. Her frustration grew over not being able to figure this guy out. What makes him so different, or so special?
Amy had been the third member of the Tres Amigas at UCLA. And it had been Amy to whom Sarah had confessed at a party that she had a thing for Bryce Larkin. Amy had been shocked that a guy had finally attracted the interest of the infamous Ice Queen. She'd promised Sarah that she would take care of it, as Bryce had been chatting up Zondra at the time. Amy and Zondra had wandered a few feet away, talking intently, before Zondra shot Sarah a smirk and had walked over to Bryce, dragging him out of the party by his hand, pausing to give Sarah a discreet finger wave at the door.
The following day, Sarah had still been furious and ripped into Zondra, accusing her of betrayal. Sarah had stormed out, spending the rest of the spring semester in the classroom, library, gym or at the track. After that, their apartment had only been for sleep, and preferably when Zondra wasn't around. Fall of senior year, Zondra and Amy had gotten an apartment together and Sarah was forced to find a single room in an all-freshman dormitory as she couldn't afford the rent for an apartment by herself.
Sarah had wound up graduating from college just as lonely as she had started it. In high school there hadn't been any time for socializing. She was either in class, competing in sports (to help posture her for her college applications), doing homework or working for the family business. Between the complete absence of free time and the fact that her father had decided that his barber was perfectly capable of cutting (but not styling) her hair, Sarah had been a social pariah in high school.
Sarah had met Zondra and Amy at freshman orientation on her first day at UCLA, and the two young women had taken Sarah under their wings. Between her heavy course load, athletic requirements and time still spent helping the family business, Sarah still hadn't socialized much. But she had cherished her friendships with Zondra and Amy, making their betrayal hurt that much more deeply.
Zondra tore her attention away from Mystery Man and, on spotting Sarah, sent a hard look her way. Clearly Zondra was still unchanged in her attitude towards Sarah, despite the passing years. This was fine with Sarah as she refused to give Zondra the time of day. Amy, however, gave a big wave on seeing Sarah and practically bounced over to Sarah's station.
"Oh my gosh, Sarah Walker!" Amy gushed in her usual perky manner. "Can you believe it? All of us in the same competition? Together after all of these years. The Tres Amigas ride again. Woohoo!" Amy punctuated this with overhead fist pumps.
"It's Dos Amigas," Sarah gritted out through clenched teeth, while continuing to glare at Zondra. "I ride alone." Amy shrugged indifferently and sauntered away. Sarah looked up to see Mystery Man looking at her perplexed. She didn't have the time or energy to figure out what he was thinking. The sting of betrayal by her best friend and abandonment by her next closest friend still stung. Besides, anyone friendly to the enemy…Just as she was about to tell him to mind his own damn business, a voice from behind her distracted Sarah's attention.
"Well, well, well. Sarah Walker," said the new arrival, a statuesque redhead. "You ready to get your ass kicked yet again, just like back when we were in college?"
Sarah spun away from Mystery Man, a grin forming on her face. "You're delusional, Miller. In the three races that we had together, I crushed you twice. You only won the third one because I tore my hamstring just before the finish line." Sarah shot a triumphant grin towards her former track rival. "Tell me something Carina, is that sign still up in Zamperini Plaza at USC? The one that tells every competitor walking on to Cromwell field that the track record for the 100-meter dash was set by S. Walker of UCLA? I'm surprised that USC let you graduate after that ignominy instead of just deporting your flat ass to Sweden." The smile on Sarah's face took away any sting from the words of her trash talk.
"Flat ass my ass," Carina growled only partly in mock indignation. "This ass is perfectly round and rock hard." Carina spun around and bent over to show off her figure in jeans that had to have been painted on they were so tight. Sarah heard a clatter of metal from the direction of Mystery Man's station. Apparently, he had seen Carina's display, which was likely why she had done it. Sarah went to shoot a glare over her shoulder, but the glare fizzled into a frown as she saw that Mystery Man looked mildly terrified of Carina's antics rather than turned on by them.
Carina, shifting out of the agent provocateur mode in the blink of an eye, pulled Sarah into a quick hug, whispering "Powodzenia" in Sarah's ear before sauntering off to her baking station.
Big Mike picked up the mic again, "Now that everyone is at their stations and ready to go, I give you the first challenge. The judges and I want you to bake a delicious, creamy pound cake. You can go traditional, add some flavor, whatever you think is best, as long as it has that buttery goodness that I…that the judges are looking for. Everyone set? You've got an hour and a half. Bake!"
With that, Big Mike walked off of the stage and started chatting with the bakers at the two front stations, before moving on to the next row of bakers. His jovial attitude was helpful in batting away the stress that had settled into the room at the start of the competition. Although a few moments later Sarah heard, "Good luck with that", and saw Big Mike with his eyebrows raised high. She suspected that the stress level had just increased for that unfortunate baker.
Sarah had been dialed in for ten minutes, solely focused on her upcoming bake, when she heard Zondra call out, "What the hell? This cake batter hasn't risen at all." Sarah looked up in time to see Mystery Man turn to face Zondra with a concerned look on his face. Sarah paused to see what he was going to do. "May I?" He asked Zondra, holding a spoon out. Zondra looked at him as if he had grown a second head but, after a brief pause, gave a terse nod of approval.
After dipping his spoon into the batter, he took a quick taste, wincing as soon as the spoon went in his mouth. "You used baking soda instead of baking powder. The milk in the recipe doesn't have enough acid to activate the baking soda and give you the rise that you need. You can tell by the slightly bitter taste." He sounded contrite as he explained what had gone wrong, even though the mistake had been Zondra's.
"Who the hell do you think you are? I used baking powder," Zondra growled, shaking the container that read 'baking powder' in Mystery Man's face. Jabbing her index finger at the label, she continued, "Baking powder. I'm not some newbie that can't tell the difference." Sarah could feel the anger radiating off of Zondra from across the aisle. Part of Sarah wanted to be petty and gloat at Zondra's misfortune, while another part of her felt bad for Zondra having to drop out of the competition over some kind of mix up.
Despite Zondra's aggressive tone, Mystery Man looked unphased. He pulled out a small measuring spoon and dipped it into the container, as though that was the reason Zondra had shoved it in his face. He took a minute taste, then frowned in confusion. "You've got baking soda in that container. I think someone must have been messing with you. The milk and baking soda alone wouldn't trigger the amount of carbon dioxide that you need even for something as dense as pound cake. It would just come out flat and somewhat bitter. That's why you needed the baking powder."
The guy spun to look up at the digital timer mounted above the stage. "We've got time still. You can borrow my baking powder and mix together the dry ingredients. I'll get started on the wet ones for you. If we hurry, you should still be able to plate a pound cake in time."
Sarah's jaw dropped open at this open display of camaraderie in the midst of a competition. Hasn't this guy ever heard of every man for himself? Whoever falls behind gets left behind? Doesn't he want to win? This guy hadn't done anything to sabotage Zondra, yet he could have just let her be to ensure that she wouldn't be able to score better than him. Yet, despite the time crunch that all of the bakers were competing under, he was ignoring his own bake to help Zondra out. Maybe I was wrong earlier and he was flirting with Zondra. Sarah tried to ignore the feeling of unease that thought generated.
Without even waiting for Zondra's approval, Mystery Man started pouring milk, eggs, almond extract and used a knife to scrape out a vanilla bean into a bowl and set to work with a hand mixer. Clearly the guy didn't understand the "competition" part of "baking competition". Zondra watched dumbfounded for a moment before jumping into action and hastily assembling the flour, Mystery Man's baking powder and salt. Setting that aside, Zondra whipped the butter and sugar together right as Mystery Man set down a bowl of perfectly blended wet ingredients.
Big Mike had overheard Mystery Man as he had started to walk to Zondra's station. Hearing Mystery Man's evidence, Big Mike grimaced as he spun on his heal and headed to the side of the stage to confer with a huge guy with close cropped hair and chiseled jaw dressed all in black. If the Greater Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce was going for intimidating, they had picked the right head of security. Sarah felt, more than heard, the growl as the man in black stormed off behind the stage. Big Mike then made his way back over to speak with the next few competitors.
Sarah was still as stunned as Zondra. Who is this guy? Mystery Man had just become even more mysterious as he had stopped his own prep work to help out a competitor. One who, judging by his earlier reaction, he hadn't met until just a few minutes ago. Sarah felt adrift in a sea of emotions. She was equally impressed with his ability to quickly diagnose the problem as she was with how he was able to work through the science and math all in his head. But she was also nervous that his scientific knowledge might be enough of an advantage to beat her in the competition. With a quick smile at Zondra, he quietly turned back to his own bake. However, as he was turning back to his own station, he froze as his eyes met Sarah's. He once again looked like a deer in headlights for a few seconds, before shaking himself out of it and focusing on his pound cake.
Although Sarah tried to focus on her recipe, her thoughts and eyes kept drifting over to this man, who was fascinating her unlike anyone else she had ever met. Sarah, you haven't actually met him, she reminded herself bitterly. While stirring some dark chocolate chips with some butter over a double boiler, she surreptitiously watched the object of her attention as he set aside some batter to mix in pureed raspberries.
Ooh, I'll bet that tastes great with raspberry marbling, Sarah thought. Assuming he compensates for the additional moisture from the raspberry puree. Then again, he clearly knew his stuff. Not only did he tell Zondra all that stuff about carbon dioxide, but he was also able to tell the difference between baking powder and baking soda by simply tasting the bitterness of her batter. That was some next level science at work there.
Sarah was confident that he would know that he needed to compensate for the moisture in the raspberry puree in order to keep the moisture down in the cake batter-if the cake was too wet it would be badly underbaked. What she wasn't confident about was why she felt proud of him for knowing all of that. She didn't even know his name. And he was being friendly towards both Zondra and Amy (although he wouldn't know of the feud between the three women). And what was up with him gawking at her? He didn't do that with Zondra or Amy. And he didn't gawk at Carina. Look mildly terrified? Yes. Gawk? No. So, why me? Does he think that there's something wrong with me?
Sarah turned her attention back to her cake as she poured it into a tin to put in the oven. As she was straightening up, she saw Mystery Man pouring his batter into a silicone mold that he then put in a loaf pan. Swirling in the raspberry batter, he put the mold/loaf pan combination into the oven with a smile. Sarah found that she rather liked that smile. It was a pleased with his effort smile, not a smirk or cocky grin. She focused on cleaning up before she thought about how she liked other things about this guy, including the growing appreciation for the hair that formed animal shapes, even though it appeared to have bits of batter spread here and there.
With her bake in the oven, Sarah had time to watch her competitors, while trying not to look like she was focused on Mystery Man. But when Big Mike approached the guy's baking station, it gave Sarah the perfect excuse to pay close attention. She watched in fascination as he interacted smoothly with Big Mike, spending most of the time with a broad smile on his face that would crinkle his nose when he really got going. He was relaxed and confident. There was no sign of him being stressed or intimidated, either by the competition or by speaking with Mike Tucker. With a "good luck" and a two finger salute, Big Mike headed off to the next competitor to interview.
She watched as Mystery Man bent down to pull his bake from the oven to check the bake, but with his back to her, she couldn't see what his pound cake looked like. She watched as he shook the pan, then reached over to prod his bake for a moment. He then reached into a container and pulled out a small ziplock which had something red inside of it. Sarah was at a loss as to what he was adding, but watched as he sprinkled the mystery substance on the top of his pound cake before sliding it back in his oven and closing the door before resetting his timer. Saran's curiosity blazed with a desire to know what he was up to.
Sarah was startled by the sound of the timer going off on her own work station. For a moment she couldn't remember what the timer was for, her attention having been fully absorbed by her cute competitor. She lowered the heat on her oven even as a different type of heat rose in her cheeks, peering through the glass for a moment to check the color on the top of her bake. As she straightened up, she saw Big Mike approach her station while reading from a cue card.
"Sarah Walker," Big Mike said in greeting. "Welcome to the Great Burbank Bake Off. How's your pound cake coming along?" Big Mike had a welcoming smile of his own, although it didn't make her stomach flutter the way it did when she caught sight of Mystery Man's smile.
"I'm making a classic dark chocolate marbled pound cake. It seems to be coming along nicely. We won't know until I plate it, of course." Sarah had on her polite but professional face, the one that she broke out for meetings of the Board of Directors.
"Very true, Ms. Walker," Big Mike said with an approving nod. "Very true indeed. Confident but not cocky. I like that. And I like the sound of that pound cake." He paused to look at her closely. "I get the feeling that you're going to go far in this competition. I'll have to keep an eye on you." With a friendly nod and a toothy grin, Big Mike headed off to greet the baker behind Sarah in the last row.
True to Mystery Man's prediction, Zondra was able to pull her pound cake from the oven and plate it just before the countdown timer buzzed. Zondra looked slightly embarrassed but gave Mystery Man a high five as he had come around to stand next to her station while she plated her cake. He gave Zondra a huge smile and whispered something in her ear before jogging back around to his own station. Zondra, for her part, seemed to be fighting off a grin. Sarah was shocked at his interaction with Zondra, which had made her desperately jealous of Zondra for commanding his attention and praise.
Following Big Mike's command, everyone formed into two lines and took their cakes up to the table for the judges to sample. Although looking straight ahead, Sarah surreptitiously observed Zondra as she lined up behind the guy who was the focus of Sarah's attention. Zondra still looked mostly confused at the guy's gallant behavior towards her, although Sarah did spot Zondra discretely checking out how Mystery Man's jeans fit him. While Sarah had been put off by the baggy jeans when he had first entered the room, she was now extremely pleased that the jeans were not the male equivalent of what Carina had on.
As she put down her own cake, Sarah quickly scanned the other cakes already on the judges' table. Two were burnt, one badly so. Another looked like it was seriously underbaked. Judging by the cloyingly sweet smell of a fourth cake, the baker had tried to add honey. A quick glance revealed that the honey had bled down to the bottom of the cake and had crystallized in the bottom of the loaf pan. A fifth cake had stuck to the sides of its loaf pan, with big chunks apparently staying behind with the pan instead of going with the cake on the table. But she was pleased to see the cake with the telltale dark red marbling looking perfectly baked. As she walked by, she caught a whiff of raspberries and buttery goodness. She then noticed small, bright red crystals along to the top of the loaf. She was at a loss as to what they were, or what they were doing on top of a pound cake.
Sarah made a mental note to look into the silicone molds as she made her way back to her station. Just as she was going to take her seat on her designated stool, she heard Carina do a drive-by of the Mystery Man's baking station. "So, you're a fan of silicone, huh?" Carina said to the guy with a smirk. He looked rapidly from side to side as though looking for an escape route. "Too bad," Carina continued as she suggestively ran her hands down her chest. "Some of us here are all natural. Not a drop of silicone to be found, assuming that someone were to look."
The poor guy had stopped looking for an escape route and was now mumbling something about hoping that a Hellmouth in the ground would open up and swallow him whole. She had no idea what a Hellmouth was, or how that factored into his plans. Was that some pop culture reference that I don't know? Carina just shot him a wink and sauntered over to her station as if she was on the catwalk at a fashion show in Milan. Sarah made another mental note, this one to tell her friend that she was going to need to turn it down a notch-or, better yet, ten.
Big Mike and the other two judges took bites of each of the pound cakes. With the two burnt ones, the underbaked one and the crystallized honey disaster, they took the smallest bites possible. For a few other cakes (including hers and Mystery Man's), she was pleased to see Big Mike go back for another forkful. After a short conference, Big Mike once again grabbed the mic. "Well folks, we've made our decision. We'll get the bad news out of the way first, then announce the winner of this bake." Not surprisingly, the worst of the burnt cakes and the underbaked cake battled it out for the dubious honor of being the first elimination. The honey dripper and the less burnt cake bakers both looked like they had gotten a death row clemency from the governor they were so relieved when Big Mike announced that the person who made the underdone pound cake was the first to be dismissed from the competition.
Big Mike took in a deep breath, "There were two cakes that truly stood out from the rest. Where's Chuck Bartowski? There you are son. I've got to tell you. I thought you were crazy to put Pop Rocks on the crust of a pound cake. I mean, that's just nuts! But after tasting it, I'm not sure whether you're crazy or a genius, but that was one fine…and fun…cake to eat. I'm taking the leftovers home with me."
Pop Rocks? He put Pop Rocks on pound cake? Was there something wrong with this guy? Who does that? Why would anyone do that? Sarah found herself questioning her earlier interest in her tall, gangly competitor.
"Ms. Walker, your chocolate marble pound cake was divine. The chocolate marbling was smooth without being too sweet. And the buttery creaminess of the pound cake was heaven itself. It was even better than the pound cake that Mrs. Big Mike makes, and I never thought that I'd live to see the day that I would say that. Come to mention it, once she hears what I just said, I may not live to see the day out!" The judges and contestants all laughed at Big Mike's antics. "This was an incredibly close decision, but the judges have ruled 2-1…I'm not telling who…that the perfectly executed traditional pound cake beat out the innovative Pop Rock cake. Congratulations go to Sarah Walker, the star baker of Round One."
Sarah flushed with the praise, but also shot a look over at this Chuck Bartowski to see how he took just barely losing out. Once again Mystery Man (I should probably start thinking of him as Chuck so that I don't do something stupid, like call him by my made up nickname for him instead of his real name) surprised her. Chuck was sporting a huge smile and was clapping as hard as he could for her win. Although he did manage to promptly miss his other hand on a clap once they locked eyes, nearly slapping himself in the face. Once again, Sarah watched as he started to gawk at her. She began to wonder if his gawking was a sign that he found her to be the most attractive of the women in the room. She doubted that would be the case as both Carina and Zondra were undeniably beautiful women who could give runway models self-confidence issues. Amy never had any trouble attracting attention from the opposite sex, with her girl next door looks. But, try as she might, Sarah could think up no other explanation. Even if she didn't actually try that hard.
Still, until he corrects me, that's the one that I'm going with, she decided, as she stood up to accept the congratulations from the other bakers and to shake hands with the judges. As she was making her way over to Big Mike, Sarah spotted the man in black come back from behind the stage and growl something into Big Mike's ear.
"You have got to be kidding me!" Big Mike exclaimed as he angrily grabbed the microphone. "Folks, we've got a situation. After reviewing the footage of the event, our head of Security, John Casey, has proof that one of the competitors sabotaged another competitor. Or at least tried to sabotage her. Amy Monroe-GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SHOW!" Big Mike bellowed as he angrily shoved another handful of pound cake into his mouth, only to suddenly sit up and start blinking his eyes. "Bartowski, you're one mad scientist. But I like you son. Pop Rocks Pound Cake! Who would've thunk it?"
Sarah watched as John Casey silently but swiftly made his way over to Amy's station. Amy was looking around like a cornered rat trying to find a way to escape. "No, no, no," Amy begged. "I didn't do anything. I swear. This must be some kind of mistake. Zondra's my friend. I would never do anything to her." Sarah felt an ice ball form in her stomach as Amy suddenly stopped fidgeting, and fluttered her eyelashes up at the security chief. "There must be some way that I can be allowed to stay in the competition." She reached out to stroke a hand down the front of John Casey's chest.
In a move that was startlingly fast for a man of his size, Casey reached out to grab Amy by the wrist. "Save it sister," he growled out. "I'm not buying whatever the hell you're trying to sell." Amy blushed at the insinuation that had been about as subtle as a 2x4 to the back of the head. "Get your gear and get out. You've got two minutes," Casey growled out in a voice that reminded Sarah of the drill instructor from the movie Full Metal Jacket. Releasing Amy's wrist, Casey crossed his arms over his chest as he glared at Amy, seemingly without blinking.
Amy turned to Zondra, silently pleading for her help. Sarah was shocked that Amy would be desperate enough to appeal to her supposed friend to help keep her from being booted from the competition. But Zondra just stood there stunned with her mouth agape. One hundred and twenty seconds later, Casey guided Amy by her elbow out of the Garden Room as he stormed off towards the front entrance to the hotel.
Zondra slumped down in her chair and looked over at Sarah, "I can't believe that Amy tried to sabotage me." Sarah's eyes grew wide at the accusation. Zondra was so fixated on Amy's betrayal that she had forgotten about the bad blood between her and Sarah. "Chuck was right. Just before we started, Amy must have switched my container of baking soda for one filed with baking powder. She cheated."
Chuck made his way over to Amy's station, quickly reaching into the trash. He pulled out the baking soda container that Zondra had brought to the competition. Zondra's face fell further at the additional evidence of Amy's duplicity. Sarah furrowed her brow, thinking back to a night etched in her memory. "Z, when we were at that party junior year in college, the one where you hooked up with Bryce Larkin, what was it that Amy said to you when she pulled you aside?" Sarah's hands had balled into fists by her hips, her knuckles turning white as suspicion set in.
Zondra looked confused, both at Sarah's use of her old nickname and the seemingly unrelated history question. She thought for a moment before recalling the party right before the downfall of her closest friendship. "Bryce had made up some fake pickup lines to try on some girls at the party Each one worse than the last. He and I were having a laugh about it. Then Amy came up and said that you had a thing for Bryce's roommate, but didn't feel comfortable talking to him with Bryce around. So I decided to be your wingman and get Bryce away from him. But I never hooked up with Bryce." Zondra looked over at Sarah, her voice hardening, "Why do you ask?" She clearly suspected what Sarah's answer would be.
Sarah swallowed down the fresh sense of betrayal, now mirrored with a regret over the loss of years of friendship. With a hitch in her voice over the pain of pulling back the scab of that betrayal, she said, "That night, I told Amy that I had a crush on Bryce, but that you were with him, laughing and having a great time. She said that she would take care of everything." Sarah shook her head angrily, her tone getting ominous. "She sure as hell took care of things. Split up our friendship and took my place as your best friend."
"That little traitor," they said in unison, their heads swiveling to try to find her in the crowd.
Suddenly Chuck was standing in front of the two of them, hands raised as though in surrender. "You guys could go find her and get all badass ninja assassin on her, like it looks that you want to…" Sarah and Zondra both let out snorts of laughter at the oddball description of the two of them, with Chuck's humor diffusing their anger slightly. "Or…or, instead of risking getting kicked out of the competition and locked away in jail for several years….don't get me wrong, I heard what you guys just said and it is beyond sucky. It's cruel if I'm being honest, which I guess I am seeing as how I just said that."
As though realizing that the two women were actually listening to him, he suddenly looked less confident. He quickly ran a hand up the back of his neck, rubbing at the hair behind his head. Sarah shook her head at the rambling of the cute and really tall guy in front of her. "But while I may not be a lawyer, or even watch those law shows on tv," Chuck continued to quickly ramble while bouncing his head from one side to the other, "I'm pretty sure that being a craptastic supposed friend doesn't qualify for justifiable homicide."
Zondra and Sarah snorted again, their anger and indignation momentarily forgotten as they shared a look at the antics of the stranger in front of them. "Instead," Chuck continued in a relieved tone, now that these stunningly beautiful women didn't look set on murdering the scumbag of a fake friend although he studiously avoided looking the two of them-but more particularly Sarah- in the eye as he spoke, "you could carry on with the competition, and use the time to repair your friendship. If it really was Amy hurting you both, then neither should hold a grudge against the other. Am I right?" He looked from one woman to the other, before cutting his eyes back down to his shoe tops again. Sarah got the distinct impression that Chuck found the combination of her and Zondra to be overwhelming.
"The geek has a point," Zondra admitted. When Sarah looked shocked, Zondra continued, "What? The guy can tell the difference between baking soda and baking powder by taste. Plus, he was able to explain the whole carbon dioxide generation process like he was some professor back at UCLA." Sarah nodded in concession. "Hell, I wish our prof back in frosh Chem was that clear with his lessons. Do you remember how we would walk out of a lecture more confused than we were when we walked in?"
"Nerd actually," Chuck jumped in. Sarah looked at him in amusement over picking another term that she and Zondra both would see as equally derogatory. Zondra's friendship with Sarah might be a little rusty, but she saw a glimmer in Sarah's eyes that she'd never seen before. Not even when Bryce Larkin had been around.
Zondra tilted her head in concession. "Nerd it is. The nerd has a point, Sarah."
Sarah beamed at Chuck, "He does at that, Z." His eyes lit up at Sarah's undivided attention. And then they went wide as he quickly refocused on his feet.
Zondra got up to head out of the room during the lunch break before the next round of the competition. She called back over her shoulder, "I may owe you one, nerd boy. But don't expect me to go easy on you next round."
Chuck flushed a brilliant shade of red as Zondra made her way out of the room, but Sarah noticed that he didn't watch her go. No ogling, and no gawking. Instead he turned to face Sarah, although clearly still flustered by Zondra's teasing. "So, uh, you seem to know half of the competition here. Must put you at quite the advantage."
Sarah sensed that the comfort that Chuck had shown when talking with Big Mike, or when jumping in to save Zondra's bake, disappeared when he was speaking directly to her. The cool confidence he had would vanish when trying to keep eye contact, the ready smile replaced by a vibrant blush. Granted, he didn't seem confident around Carina. Then again, guys around Carina tended to fall into two categories: guys who were convinced they were going to get lucky, and guys who were convinced that they needed to run far, far away. Chuck definitely fell into the latter category.
Sarah tilted her head to the side as she appraised Chuck. "I wouldn't say half. And it's been years since I spent any time with Zondra, or Amy for that matter, back in college. As for Carina, she went to a different college altogether. She and I crossed paths in a few track competitions. But those were all years ago."
"So you ran track in college? That's pretty impressive," Chuck said while keeping his attention mostly on his toes, possibly to keep from gawking more. His eyes would briefly flick up to meet hers before looking away again quickly.
"Hmm, you were paying attention earlier," Sarah teased him, although her beaming smile was a clear sign that she wasn't upset.
"Uhh, yeah. I didn't mean to pry…I just, well, you're pretty much amazing. And pretty. You're pretty and amazing is basically what I'm saying," Chuck stammered out. Chuck looked away, muttering under his breath. Sarah was able to make out "at least act like you've used a full sentence before, idiot." The rest was lost, but it was enough. She felt warmth flush through her. Chuck's lack of polish actually made him more attractive, and more relatable to Sarah.
"Aren't you the smooth operator," she teased.
Chuck quietly laughed as he turned back to face her even though he spent more time focused on his sneakers than her face, "Sarcasm. Nice. I like it. I would say that this is more of a crash and burn, but given that we're at a baking competition, I think the pun might be the last push to send you over the edge and make you run away."
Sarah flashed him another smile before bouncing a shoulder and heading out of the Garden Room in search of some food before the start of the second round of the competition that afternoon. Chuck stood rooted to the spot, watching her go with a look of awe on his face. As she walked into the hotel lobby, Sarah didn't even realize that she was more focused on her talk with Chuck than she was on the fact that she had just won star baker for the first round.
A/N 2: *Babcia* Grandmother
*Powodzenia* Good luck
The Great Room is based on the space in the Hotel Amarano in Burbank which was used in Chuck for the external shots of Maison 23.
As Big Mike referenced, this story is based on the Great British Bake Off (aka the Great British Baking Show). One of the most fascinating aspects of the show is how the competitors will frequently drop whatever they are doing in order to help out another competitor who is having some emergency.
My thanks go out to the other writers on this site who strive to keep the show alive. The premise for this story came to me as a result some messages with Joe Watkins regarding the brilliant Matchmaker. In Ski School, David Carner pulled the curtain aside for a glimpse at his approach to storytelling which has (hopefully) improved my own approach. Plus, the stories from so many authors that I have read (and reread) have inspired and influenced this story in both style and substance. As the saying goes, I am standing on the shoulders of giants.
For those of you in the US, go vote. Don't care who you vote for (although I kind of do), but it's both a responsibility and a privilege to help decides who is going to be in charge of your city, state and nation.