Page 14 of The Baking Games

RHETT

That was tedious. I want to get to the competition, and I don’t care what school people went to, how old they are, or if they’re single. I’m not here for love. I’m here for money.

But Dan has more to share, so I try to pay attention since this is the part I care about: the rules, the prizes, and the competition itself.

“Okay, folks, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty! As you know, this is a competition show lasting six weeks. There will be a panel of three judges, all experts in the area of culinary arts. You’ll meet them tomorrow at your first challenge. Voting during main competitions will also involve the audience, although judge votes will weigh seventy percent and viewers will count for thirty percent. Now, each week, we’ll have two competitions. One is a reward comp, and the other is a main competition. Rounds will also be solo, but we’ll also have partner rounds sometimes…”

He keeps droning on and on. I can’t imagine viewers at home will be interested in all the minutia this man is spewing out of his giant, toothy eating hole, but I try to stay awake. This has been a long day, and I really want some food and a nap. I may be “hangry,” as the kids call it.

“As you know, the prizes are amazing! One contestant will win two hundred thousand dollars, a cookbook deal, and the job of making a wedding cake for Keaton Mallory and Keira Donaldson!”

Keaton and Keira are this year’s it couple. At least, that’s what my Internet search told me. I don’t follow a lot of celebrity gossip, but I’m not telling anyone that. After all, as far as these people know, I’m on yachts with celebrities all day long.

Apparently, they met on a silly reality TV dating show and got engaged, but everyone thinks these two lovebirds will make it. They have the love of a lifetime. Gag. I give them six months tops, if they even make it to their wedding day. I need them to make it there so I can make the cake, of course, so all my blessings and prayers go out to Keaton and Keira. May you make it to the altar so I can get famous for making your cake. Amen.

“You will all share this house, obviously, with several people in each bedroom. There is a large industrial kitchen at the back of the house, with multiple stations, allowing for this type of competition.”

An industrial kitchen with multiple stations? In this beautiful home? Somebody is going straight to hell for doing that to this house. People are awful. It’s like when developers mow down huge forests to build ugly condos that all look alike and have terrible HOA presidents.

“You will have camera crews all around you during all waking hours. There are also cameras mounted in every nook and cranny of this house. There is no privacy, so assume everything you say and do will be broadcast across this country.”

“Wait, how will we use the bathroom?” Lainey blurts out, sounding like a complete fool.

Dan looks at her for a long moment. “Of course, there won’t be cameras in the bathroom. That would be inappropriate.” He looks at the camera. “I just want to clarify that we do not film competitors while they’re in the bathroom.”

Everyone is getting restless. Even Savannah has her arms crossed now. I’m sure everybody is hungry and tired and annoyed. Dan had better speed this whole thing up or risk an on-screen bloodbath.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for now. Why don’t we let you choose your rooms so that everyone can have some downtime to get a bite to eat? We’ll have a little meet-up to get to know each other better tonight. Here are your room assignments,” he says, handing each of us a colored card. I guess the colors match up to rooms and roommates. The first thing I notice is that Connor has the same color. Great, just great.

I don’t know what his deal is with Savannah or what her deal is with him, but there’s a story. I don’t want to care what it is, but I kind of do. There’s not much else going on at the moment, so a little gossip might fill the time.

Within seconds, people are running like a hippo is chasing them. Hippos are fast, if you didn’t know. To be so overweight, those suckers are scary. I was obsessed with them as a kid.

Up the curved staircase, the contestants go, like little kids hunting Easter eggs. Well, if little kids were on methamphetamines while hunting Easter eggs. I walk up the stairs slowly. Why run if your room has already been assigned? It’s me, Maggie, and Hank hanging back. The two oldest people and me. It’s fine. Maybe it will make people underestimate me.

“You’re a hulk!” Maggie says, looking over at me as we walk up the stairs. She’s favoring her right leg.

“Thank you?”

She laughs and waves her hand at me. “I didn’t mean anything by it, honey. Just that you’re a big guy. I’m sure you’ve heard that all your life.”

“Most of it,” I say. “I had a growth spurt in between my freshman and sophomore years of high school.”

“Quite a growth spurt.”

“I suppose so.”

“I played football in high school. Did you?” Hank suddenly asks.

“I did for one season. Then, I hurt my knee, and that was that.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Hank says, as if we should all be in mourning that I didn’t play more.

“It’s fine. If I’d kept on, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be in the NFL.”

Hank laughs loudly. I’m not sure if he’s laughing because he thinks I couldn’t have made it into the NFL or if he’s laughing because I’d be making so much money there that this little piddly show wouldn’t even be on my radar. I decide not to press further. Again, I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to obliterate every one of these people.

When we arrive up the stairs, which takes twice as long because of Maggie’s bum knee or hip and my inability to run ahead of her, we see a long hallway. We split up into our respective rooms. I glance as Maggie walks into hers. The walls are painted pink, and there are three twin beds around the room. Savannah is in there, and I think that Lainey chick is, too. Good luck, Savannah. You’re gonna need it.

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