Page 4 of Resisting the Grump

"You do," he said. "At least when you're around food. And while your poker face is usually an asset, for this event, I want you to make every single baker feel like she won just because of how much you enjoyed her cakes."

“This makes no sense,” I said. "What are you not telling me?"

He took a deep breath and nodded at the chair across from his desk.

I begrudgingly took a seat.

"The show's ratings are falling."

My jaw tightened.

"Our market research team thinks your reputation is to blame. There's so much anti-bullying awareness shit going around that your tough love approach isn't sitting as well with viewers as it used to."

Fucking great. “Whose idea was that?!”

"Mine," he said. "And it worked great for a while, but it's time to pivot for the sake of your career."

I scoffed. "Seems a bit disingenuous to change my public persona because the soft millennial interns in market research think it's a good idea."

"You're not doing it for them. You're doing it for yourself."

"You and I both know I’m not qualified to judge baked goods."

"And that knowledge is going to stay between us," he said, locking his eyes on mine. "As far as everyone else is concerned, you're a sucker for sweets and have nothing but admiration and respect for the hardworking home bakers of America."

Was he trying to make me ill? "I'm not going to pretend to enjoy food I don't like."

"That's fine." He raised his palms in surrender. "I'm not asking you to compromise your integrity. All I'm asking is that you try something new."

I opened my mouth to object.

"And I don't see any reason why you wouldn't be up for it when you've excelled at everything else I've ever asked you to do."

That might've been true, but telling incompetent cooks what I thought of their food wasn't exactly a challenge for me. Nor was the article writing, which always gave me a great buzz. But this? Being lovely and likable? That was the worst thing a guy could be. No one respects the sensitive, likable guy. Sure, it might lead to a few extra daytime TV appearances, but that was a step in the wrong direction. I'd told Mac repeatedly that I wanted to stop seeking the spotlight so I could start looking for great restaurants and restaurateurs to invest in behind the scenes. That way, I might someday realize my dream of going out for a bite to eat without being spied on by servers who trembled every time they talked to me.

I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but the novelty of being a celebrity restaurant critic wore off a long time ago. Granted, it was a rush when I was young. The fact that my opinion had such power because of who I was (or rather, who my father was) gave me an incredible sense of pride and power. But being a jerk wasn’t as fun or easy as it used to be. If anything, it was a bit of a chore. But that didn't mean I was up for doing a complete 180 to become the cuddly mascot of the baking world.

Did I like dessert as much as the next guy? Sure. But it was one thing to take fine dining seriously. The thought of being a man who had strong opinions about pastry made my cake pops shrivel. "We've discussed this," I said, sensing I was fighting a losing battle. "Dropping your schtick in showbiz is the fastest way to becoming irrelevant. Is that what you want? For me to be irrelevant?"

Mac cocked his head. "You know that's not what I want."

"What is it that you want, exactly?"

"God, you're so ungrateful. Do you have any idea how lucky you are that you're attractive enough to be objectified? All I want is for you to sweet talk some old ladies so they’re excited to tell everyone they know on the school board, at the nail salon, and at bingo, that you're actually a real charmer and even more handsome in person."

"First of all, your rampant sexism offends me. Second of all, you should've asked."

"I figured this was one of those times when it would be better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission."

"Yet I haven't heard any begging since I got here."

He lifted his Starbucks but set it back down when he realized it was empty. "I'm saving it for a different favor."

I leaned an ear towards him.

"There's a new pop-up restaurant I want you to check out off Bleeker Street tomorrow."

"No can do," I said, standing up. "Find someone else."

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