Page 3 of The Baker's Dozen

What Mikey failed to mention until he got me here, however, is that my performance in the kitchen is extended and tied to my performance in the bedroom… because this cooking show is also a fucking dating show.

Adatingshow.

Mikey backpedals on the other end of the line while I breathe deeply, trying to keep my cool.

“It’s a great opportunity, man, you have to know that.”

It takes everything in me not to reach through the phone and strangle him. I don’t give a shit if he is Mama’s favorite nephew; blood only goes so far when there’s a betrayal of this size on the table. “Reality television was embarrassing enough, I’m not doing a fucking dating show,” I growl.

“Think of the opportunity, man. I pulled a ton of strings to get you in.”

I try to unclench my jaw. Iknowhe must have pulled strings. I do. And I should be thankful. No, Iamthankful.

But I can’t go on a dating—

“You’ll get to cook the entire time, bro,” Mikey continues. “It’s notjustdating. It’s different. A whole new concept that hasn’t been done before. Think of it. You’ll be on a show that is going to change the trajectory of cooking showsanddating shows alike. A trailblazer.”

Sighing, I shake my head and look out at the Pacific Ocean. His points aren’t falling into the void; I do see the potential for something huge.

And the grand prize is life-changing.

My own cooking showanda quarter-mill?

I’d be a fool to turn this down. I am many things, but foolish ain’t one of them.

Fuck. I can’t believe I’m about to give in. “I am grateful, Mikey, you know I am. But…Christ. This is fucked up even for you.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I hadn’t known the specifics before I called you to come out here?”

With a snort, I say, “Nope.”

Mikey is the most detail-obsessed of all the Mailer family, and they are a detail-oriented bunch. My mom nearly drove me nuts over the years, but I worship her in spite of her controlling, nitpicking, and damn near suffocating attention to detail.

Another reason I can’t say no to Mikey; she adores this kid.

“If you didn’t know what the show was about before you lured me out here,” I continue, “I’d wonder what happened to you, why you’re off your game.”

Mikey snickers. “Fair enough.”

The sun glints off the expanse of crystal blue waters stretched out before me. Even in the dead of winter, California is sixty-eight degrees and sunny. It’s unfathomable. There’s a massive Christmas tree on a platform dead center above the swimming pool, decked out in colorful ornaments and white twinkling lights. “I appreciate the room, though.”

“Nice digs, huh? The studio’s sparing no expense…it’s a real opportunity.”

“I appreciate your willingness to spend their dime on my behalf.”

Mikey laughs, then covers the mouthpiece, his words muffled as he speaks to someone in the background. “All right, I have to jet. Call time is eleven a.m. tomorrow morning. Lucky number thirteen, Big D.”

I scowl at the old nickname. “You have that kind of sway, little cousin? I’m automatically in the top thirteen without even applying… or, I don’t know, cooking? Proving myself?”

He clicks his tongue. “You’ll prove yourself on the show, and I know you’ve got the chops for this. Besides, it’s my ex’s project; she owes me.”

Sighing, I rub my hand over the back of my neck. A favor from an ex sounds complicated as fuck. “I don’t know—”

“Look, if nothing else,” Mikey continues, “it means exposure, and with your skills, combined with your good Mailer looks, you’ll be offered your own cooking show in no time. I’ve already started talking you up to my boss.”

I shake my head, in awe of who my twenty-seven-year-old cousin has become since leaving the bayou five years ago. A real Hollywood mover and shaker. “I really hope you’re right, man.” I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling as it all sinks in. “But setting me up on a fuckingdatingshow?” I laugh, running my hand over my face. “You really must be trying to get me back for some dumbass shit from our childhood.”

“Don’t tempt me, D. We’re getting ready to do some Japanese game show spinoff and I’d happily shove you into that casting catalogue. Let’s just say that instead of a hot woman trying to claw her way into your pants, other clawed things would be crawling in them.”

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