“The Beast, easier? They play it up on TV, but he’s a very arrogant and kind of just does what he wants. I’m not sure he’ll help you.”
“Oh, he’ll say yes,” Indy said. Nola was skeptical, but Indy was confident.The Beast’s Lairwas a competition show where he accepted the challenges of amateur chefs and if they beat him they were awarded a $350,000 prize. That money would go a long way toward fixing up Gilbert Corners.
She filled in the application and used her grandmother’s Low Country Boil recipe, something which she had made a few times on her show for the crew and had gotten rave reviews.
Two days later she heard back from her contact at the network that her application for Gilbert Corners to be featured onThe Beast’s Lairhad been accepted.
After closing her email, Indy sat back in the leather chair that had been her grandfather’s and started making plans.Real plans.They’d need to clean up the park and get the graffiti off the statue, but she was excited...which she told herself had nothing to do with meeting the Beast in person.
“No.”
Conrad Gilbert didn’t suffer fools or repeat himself. He put down the bottle of garlic-infused olive oil he’d been holding and turned to look at Ophelia Burnetti who was the executive producer on his food television show.
“You can’t say no. I’ve already told them you’re coming.”
“Well you can tell them I’m not.” Conard Gilbert didn’t even bother looking up from his bench as he worked on the delicate design for the plating of his latest dish. His new assistant was going to be fired. He hated being disturbed when he was in his test kitchen, and everyone knew it.
“Con, this is happening. Gilbert Corners is close by and we need to fill the vacancy left by the unusable video we shot at the Kentucky Derby.”
“It’s not unusable.”
“The other chef had a meltdown and threw a bottle of bourbon at you. It would ruin him. This place is close, and they want you to film in less than three weeks. It’s ideal.”
He straightened to his full six foot five inches, giving her a withering stare. She looked back at him nonplussed.
Fuck.
He’d vowed to never return to Gilbert Corners except to visit his cousin Rory. And he didn’t want to break that vow now. He hated that place.
“If I go, I’ll arrive as the cooking starts and then leave as soon as we are done filming.”
“Fine. I only need forty minutes of airable footage. So do that and you’re out.”
Ophelia left a few minutes later after telling him she’d send the details to his assistant. Conrad followed her out into the main office area where his assistant sat doing something on her cell phone.
“Send it to me,” Conrad said to Ophelia, turning to his assistant. “You’re fired.”
He walked back into the test kitchen, but his mind was no longer on the dish he’d been creating. It was on fucking Gilbert Corners. He had no happy memories of the town that bore his family’s name. His grandfather had been a cold, demanding guardian who’d raised Conrad and his cousins after their parents were killed in an airplane crash as they’d been returning from a ski trip. Conrad had been ten.
He’d never felt like Gilbert Manor was home. He had missed his actual home—the brownstone that had been in his mother’s family, where he’d lived with his parents. He’d been loved and treated like their little prince and their deaths had left him empty. His grandfather had taken one look at Conrad and his two cousins when they’d shown up on his doorstep and immediately arranged for them to be sent off to boarding schools. He and Dash, who was like a brother to him, had been sent to the same one.
He reached for his phone and called Dash.
“Gilbert here.”
“Gilbert here,” he responded.
“Con, how’s it going?” Dash asked.
“I have to go to GC.”
“You have to? I thought no one dared tell you what to do.”
“Me too. But Ophelia isn’t scared of me, and we need an episode to fill a programming gap. Why would anyone invite me to town?” Conrad asked.
“You got me. They all think we’re bad luck.”
“Exactly. Well, I’m going to crush the challenger and then get out of GC. Want to join me?”