"Are you ready to rumble?" Chef Jake Sawyer asked the
question in a booming sports-announcer voice. The Chicken
Soup Showdown would begin in a few hours, and Amy was
ready. Or at least she kept telling herself she was ready
in a fake it until you make it kind of way as she walked
around the civic arena and tried to enjoy the Eat Local
Expo. Chef Jake pointed the faux microphone, a wooden
spoon, toward her. "Who's going to take down the
egomaniac, Chef Britton?"
Amy smiled at the pro wrestling-style commentary. Chef
Jake had delivered the questions with a smile and a wink,
but there was a sharp edge to his description of their
rival. The afternoon could get very interesting. What she
had thought would be a friendly charity competition might
not be so friendly after all. She had no idea what an
amped-up wrestler sounded like, so she just answered in a
normal tone of voice. "I have no idea who will win. I
think we're all pretty evenly matched teams."
"Very diplomatic. I think you are a nicer person than I
am." He swept his arm over the array of food samples on
the table between them. "Would you like to try
something?"
"I would love to." She studied the display for Nibbles &
Noshes restaurant, Jake's foodie business baby. On the
white linen tablecloth, small cups of walleye ceviche
were lined up beside glistening cubes of braised beef
short rib on tiny plates. She selected the fish, flecked
with bits of purple onion and green jalapeรฑos. The
ceviche was perfectly tangy and spicy. She held up the
empty cup in a toast. "MmmโฆI could make a meal of this.
I'm sure you've been busy keeping up with the demand for
samples. Are you ready for the showdown, especially the
talking-to-the-crowd part?"
He nodded and flashed another toothpaste commercial-
worthy smile. His dark hair was twisted into a small knot
on the back of his head. He had a full, closely trimmed
beard and sapphire blue eyes that glittered in the harsh
arena lighting. In short, he was so hot he could melt a
stick of butter by looking at it, despite having dark
moons under his eyes. Prepping for the Eat Local Expo
must've been exhausting. He rolled his eyes and said,
"I'm going to pretend it's just another dinner shift. I
figure if I focus on one person, like I'm talking just to
them, I won't get stage fright and freeze up. Are you
ready to cook a meal in the spotlights?"
She had been trying to forget about the fact that they
were going to be cooking in the theater at one end of the
civic arena. It had 500 seats. Considering the event had
sold out weeks earlier, whenever she thought about it,
the nervous butterflies in her stomach turned into giant
bats. So she and her best friend, Carla, were wandering
around the expo, munching on food samples while Amy tried
to distract herself from worrying. Hopefully her stomach
would stop grumbling and settle down soon so she could
concentrate on making soup and a salad for the
competition. "I'm ready, but the audience-participation
thing is freaking me out too. We're really supposed to
try to get the audience wound up like they're at a game
show? I'm not used to being a cheerleader while I cook.
Rah, rahโฆI'm putting chopped celery in the pot."
He nodded as he chuckled and handed her a short rib
sample. "I've cooked in worse situations. As long as
Britton doesn't win, I don't care what happens. His
partner from the herb farm seems really nice, but he's
going down."
"Do you think so?"
"Hell yes. Believe me, there will be nothing better than
watching Britton get taken out by one of the underlings
he tortured."
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