For the Love of Cake Read Free Page A

grandmother. It’s not even the same thing.” Having raised Wendy, her grandmother was more like a parent, but in many ways, the two-generation gap was very apparent. Wendy had endured far too many speeches about how her father’s American blood made her lazy and disrespectful. She didn’t want to add deviant to the list.
    “It doesn’t matter. I’m not giving away what little privacy I have. That’s it. He signed off on the rules, didn’t he?” Maya jabbed her finger toward the television, though the interview had concluded. She didn’t insist on controlling every interview she did, so when she asked for a topic to be off-limits, she expected to be respected. Wendy had spoken with Charlie prior to the interview and had assured Maya that he understood the limitations.
    “Yes.”
    “He’s lucky I let him use what he already had.”
    “Are you ready for Nashville?”
    “No. Is there even anything to do there?” Maya accepted the subject change as an admission that she was right about Charlie. She and Wendy had worked together for seven years, since just after Maya won her season of For the Love of Cake . And she could count on one hand the number of times either of them had ever admitted the other was right. Apologies after a disagreement were even scarcer. But it worked for them.
    “Hell if I know. But you already agreed.”
    “Okay, but they downplayed that whole moving the show from New York to the damn Bible belt until after the ink dried on my contract. I mean, look at me. How am I going to fit in down in Hicktown?”
    “I don’t think Nashville’s like that. I’ve heard it’s fairly progressive—”
    “If you finish that sentence with ‘for the South,’ so help me—”
    “Well, it’s too late to back out so you’ll have to make the best of it.”
    “Fine. Find me some cool places to hang out while I’m there. Please tell me there’s at least one gay bar.”
    “Don’t you mean a bi-bar?”
    “Very funny. Is there one or not?”
    Wendy gestured to Maya’s phone on the coffee table. “You’ve got Internet on that thing.”
    Maya shook her head. “Research is in your job description.”
    “Are you even aware that there should be a line between professional and personal?”
    “Then why do I keep you around?”
    “Because I’m the only person willing to have absolutely no life except accommodating your insane schedule.”
    “That’s right.” Maya snapped her fingers. She gave Wendy a hard time, but she would never truly let her think she didn’t appreciate her sacrifice and hard work. She paid her very well and offered as many perks as she could. Over the years, Wendy had become a friend and the only person Maya trusted completely.
    Despite her words, Wendy picked up her own phone and began tapping the touchscreen. Within a few seconds, she flipped the display around and showed Maya the website of one such establishment in Nashville.
    “Was that so hard?” Maya stood and retrieved a manila envelope from the backpack she’d dropped by the door when she came in earlier. “These are the files on this season’s cast.”
    “Gimme.” Wendy grabbed them and scanned several papers. “Are you sure you didn’t have anything to do with choosing these?”
    “Yeah, why?”
    “Because so far, they’re all gorgeous.”
    “You think I’m that superficial?” Maya picked up the sheets as Wendy set them aside. A young, athletic-looking brunette, fresh from culinary school, a slim African-American man with broad shoulders, and a preppy baby dyke with the collar of her polo shirt standing up. While Maya’s gaydar pinged, her libido remained silent. Too butch. And by the fresh-faced look, too innocent.
    “Oh, here she is.” Wendy held up a photograph. “Middle-aged—what do you think? Washed up wannabe-chef or soccer mom with a cake-decorating hobby? Not bad looking, though.”
    Prepared to play along, Maya snatched the picture out of her hand while Wendy flipped to the bio page.