As another of her grandmother’s favorite Christmas classics ramped up, Evie took off for what looked like a side exit. She wasn’t sure she was going to make the whole night without crying. She was too overwhelmed and too overstimulated by the music, the crowd, the tightness of her dress and, yes, the sexy but painful-as-hell high-heeled boots she was wearing. The little green sign came into clear view as she gently made her way past clusters of people. She could almost taste the sweet freedom of the freezing-cold night when a hand gripped her wrist. Evie stopped, and just as she was about to call on all her PR training to prevent herself from telling whoever it was to let the fuck go, she realized she was face-to-face with Blaire.
“Girl,” her roommate said, drama dripping off the word.
Evie answered right back. “Girl.”
“Okay. Once again, thank you for being a really good cook and thank you for being on TV and thank you for being my roommate and not kicking me out after you could afford to live alone and thank you again for bringing me to this party. Tops every faculty holiday party ever. I just ran into Kata and Rina in the restroom and they both said I look amazing.”
Evie laughed, picturing Blaire and the pop duo gushing over each other’s outfits. She reached up and tucked the end of one of Blaire’s faux locks back into the massive bun piled atop her head. “You do look amazing.”
“Thank you.” Evie smiled at her friend as Blaire tipped her chin skyward with the tip of her freshly painted fingernail. The smile didn’t hold, though, and Blaire immediately noticed. “Hey, you okay? I know what Stevie’s Christmas hits do to you. I can ask them to switch it up. I’m sure they’ll do it for the princess.”
Blaire’s display of fierce friendship only made matters worse. If they had been in the comfort of their own apartment, Evie would have allowed herself a brief but good cry on Blaire’s shoulder, but now was not the time and definitely not the place. Not to mention she’d spent nearly an hour in the makeup chair. Her makeup artist’s go-to brand of mascara was waterproof, but she doubted her whole face could stand the rainstorm brewing inside of her.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little stuffy in here. I’m just going to pop out into the hallway and get some fresh air.”
“Okay. Text me if you need to fly the coop. I will go and see if I can find Raquelle.” Evie had lost track of her assistant shortly after they walked through the door, which Evie didn’t mind. Raquelle knew how to balance professionalism and play just fine. Still, one of them should check on her.
“Oh yeah. Please see if you spot her. Chef Pool is here and he’s grabby.”
“Eww. Okay, yeah, I’ll find her.” Evie squeezed her friend’s hand, then turned and made her way back toward the side exits. Before anyone could stop her for even the smallest of small talk, Evie pushed her way through the fire door, into an empty stairwell. She checked the door to make sure it wasn’t about to lock behind her and then started to make her way up to the top floor. She got about halfway there before her feet started to protest. Five floors up would have to do. She took a deep breath and looked down at the nearly full champagne glass and the small cocktail napkin she still had in her hand. Rushing without spilling, a skill she’d learned in her first kitchen.
She took another deep breath and tilted her head back. She’d use gravity to hold her tears at bay if she had to. This was what she wanted. She’d leveled up, from baby prep cook, eager to prove herself, to reality-show star, and now she was on one of the most popular shows on television. This was what she wanted. She’d given up everything she had to get this far. She just didn’t think this place would feel so lonely. She regretted the thought as soon as it flitted through her mind. One would think after more than ten years she’d have come to terms with the fact that she had no family. And that she had processed the even harsher truth that certain members of her family of choice had pushed her away.
Ten years, and still, on the heels of almost every thought about Nana Buchanan, there was his face. Zachariah Pleasant. Evie knew childhood crushes stayed with you, but this one refused to fade the slightest bit, even with thousands of miles and years of silence between them. She hadn’t forgiven Zach for pretending he was breaking her heart for her own good, but there were times when she wished things had gone differently. Especially when she needed a break from work and the city. What she wouldn’t give to be back on the Pleasant family ranch, enjoying the holidays under the warm California sun. Even if she could go back, it wouldn’t be the same. Nana was gone, and Zach and his brothers had moved on with their lives. Still, for a split second Evie daydreamed about what it might be like to join them for one more Christmas brunch and ride up to the canyon.
One tear managed to escape and Evie knew she had to pull it together. Delicately she dabbed under her eye, careful not to smudge her eyeliner. “You’ll be in Barbados in three days. Pull it together,” she said to herself. “Ten days of sun and relaxation. And nothing close to the smell of horses.” Okay, she was able to make herself laugh. The one thing she didn’t miss about home was those damn horses. Evie blew out another breath and gave herself a good shake before she started to make her way back down the stairs. She’d made it just a half flight down when she heard the door at the bottom open and close. She moved a little faster, gripping the banister so she didn’t eat shit in her heels and go ass-over-Spanx down the stairs.
Evie hated being spooked in quiet places so she called down, announcing her presence as a courtesy. “I’m on my way out. Stairs are all yours.” But there was no response. She moved a little faster.
When she reached the third floor, she came face-to-face with the absolute last person she wanted to see, especially on a night like this. Chef Melanie Burns stood there, leaning against the railing, an unlit cigarette between her lips. Evie could just picture her grandmother shaking her head, telling her that now was not the time to finally strangle her former castmate. In the shadows, toying with her lighter, she looked like a damn Disney villain.
Evie was too familiar with this type of behavior from Melanie. After all, they’d been together for six weeks before Melanie had been eliminated fromSupreme Chef. It only took Evie a few hours to realize that her former castmate was a terrible person. There was a four-step process to dealing with Chef Melanie Burns. Step one: Listen. Step two: Simply say “okay.” Step three: Walk away. Step four: Get on with your day.
“Melanie. Hi.”
“Yvonne! Hello. What are you doing up here? Dark and dank stairwells are no place for a girl like you.”
Evie let a faint smile cover her grimace. She wanted to ask Melanie what in the hell she was doing in the building, let alone the same dark staircase. Melanie was a thorn in so many sides. Evie had no clue how she’d managed to get an invite. Evie had submitted her own short list of friends and colleagues she wanted there. She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting Melanie on their list. She was so damn unpleasant.
“Great party,” Melanie went on. “But you knew that. Only the best for you, right?”
“For me? No. I think the season is the reason for this little soirée. It’s a holiday party. Nothing else.”
“Oh please. I came with Tim Malick. He told me how you are just killing it up in Studio F. This is definitely all for you.”
Evie was going to have to have a chat with their production accountant. He clearly had no clue how disliked Melanie was.
“Melanie, you know this holiday party is for the cast and crew and friends of the show,” Evie said calmly. The truth was like a tripwire for Melanie. It didn’t take much of it to set her off.
“I saw the pictures you posted from Tiffany’s wedding. Looked like the gang was all there.”
Tiffany Lam and Evie had been roommates onSupreme Chefand ended up in the final two slots. Not only had Evie been the first Black woman to win, but with her and Tiffany in the lead it was the first time two women of color had been the ones to bring it home. Melanie hadn’t been invited to Tiffany’s wedding for pretty obvious reasons. There was nothing more to it.
“I dropped her a little note. Told her it would have been nice to be invited. I mean, she even invited the PAs from our season.”
And that did it. For the first time in years, Evie actually saw red. Rage heat flashed all over her body. Evie resisted the urge to toss back the rest of her champagne or smash the flute over Melanie’s head. Instead she finally said what was on her mind.
“That is so fucked up.”