But the music had already ground to a halt. “Where’s Donna?” Nelson said. “She can introduce the jugglers while we reset the music.”
When Donna didn’t materialize, I found myself jogging up to the stage. With the sound back on, I grabbed the mic. “Sorry for the technical difficulties, y’all. We’ll bring Dance Delight back in a moment, but now, let me introduce our next act, the Armstrong Brothers Jugglers.”
With that announcement, two red-headed young men clamored up the platform steps. They were dressed in jeans and lime green tees and began to toss bananas, oranges, plates, and anything else that would fly through the air.
Grateful for the time their act allowed my team to recover, I ran back into the audience looking for Donna, but I found Vonnie instead. “Have you seen Donna anywhere?”
Vonnie’s blue eyes narrowed into worried slits. “Not since the big spill in the prep room. That’s when I found the other note.”
“What note?” Lizzie, who’d emerged from the crowd, asked.
Vonnie pulled it out of the pocket of the apron as she quoted, “I’m watching you. B.”
David pulled off his gorilla head. “Mom, Donna was looking for you not too long ago. Where were you?”
Vonnie looked surprised. “Didn’t you get my message? I’ve been in the lobby outside the room with Mike Romano, doing an interview.”
I put my hand on my hip. “You’re joking!” I glared at one of the cameramen who was zeroing in on our conversation. “Now’s not the time for such nonsense. The party’s in full swing.”
“Has anyone seen Wade?” David asked. “He disappeared about the same time as Donna.”
“How can you tell?” Nelson asked. “All us monkeys look alike in these hot, itchy costumes.”
David frowned and wiped his forehead with the back of a furry paw. “I make it my business to know these things.”
“Speaking of missing,” Vonnie added, “I haven’t seen cameraman Mike since the lobby.”
“Do you think Mike could be interviewing Donna and Wade in the lobby now?” I asked.
“Let’s look,” David said. The team slipped out of the banquet hall, minus Nelson, who stayed to work the sound desk. We’d only just stepped outside when the elevator door chimed, and Donna and Wade stepped out.
I crossed my arms. “The show’s already started. Where have the two of you been?” I demanded as Mike Romano miraculously materialized to film our banter.
Donna looked more than a little cross. “I got locked in a room downstairs. Wade came along and helped.”
I was incredulous. “Most of these rooms open from the inside out, don’t they?”
“Not when they’re chained and padlocked,” Wade replied.
I gasped, and David crossed his arms. “So Wade, how did you even know to look for Donna?”
“When I saw Donna hurry off to the elevator, I wondered if something might be wrong. I couldn’t catch up with her, so I waited for the elevator to get back. I could tell from the elevator’s overhead indicator that she’d gotten off at the sixteenth floor. So, when the car came back empty, I took a ride down to look around. When I found her, she hardly needed my help. She was already taking the door off its hinges.”
“Heavens!” I said. “Are you okay, Donna?”
She nodded. “Yeah, but I’m fighting mad and—”
I peeked through the doorway to see the juggling act was concluding. “Donna, you’ll have to fill us in on the details later. It’s time to introduce Dolly and Cher.”
With little more ado, Wade, who’d popped his gorilla head back on, swept Donna into his arms and bounded toward the stage, just as they’d rehearsed.
Donna landed on her feet, grabbed the mic, and while the audience cheered, announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, Team Potluck is proud to present Dolly Parton and Cher singing ‘Jolene’!”
The audience went wild as our two musical guests, looking fabulous in shimmering silver gowns, belted out the song, playing off each other’s performance, as if each accusing the other of being the “other woman” in the song.
As they sang, I bumped against Lizzie’s shoulder to get her at- tention. “Lizzie, would you stand guard over the plug and cords? We want no more monkey business tonight.”
“I’m on it.”
Later, during mop up, Donna told us her whole story, and I have to admit, I was puzzled.
“Who do you think did this to you?” I asked as I bagged up another bunch of banana peels. Donna paused from wiping down our workstation. “Bubba, maybe.”
“What about Amy, Boudreaux, or even one of the show’s judges? I mean, Brant hates us, you know,” Lizzie offered.
“He hates everyone,” David said. “But maybe we’re caught in a plot executed by the entire
Great Party Showdown
crew designed to bump up their ratings.”
“Exactly,” Lizzie said. “At least that goes along with what I heard in Kat’s office during her meeting with Jay.”
“But who’s B?” Vonnie asked.
“That, my friend,” Lizzie replied, “is the million dollar question.”
I added with a low chuckle, “You mean, the answer to the question as to whether we’ll win a million dollars.”
By the time Tuesday night arrived, I was a nervous wreck. Here I was, surrounded by my friends and sitting in an auditorium full of people, yet all alone. Not only was my marriage in question, but with a saboteur at work and Goldie gone, I felt more than a little disconcerted. Though I was glad for the latest news about Jack, glad to hear he and Goldie finally made it out of Chicago and back to St. Luke’s Presbyterian in Denver for yet another round of tests, still, I was worried. Goldie promised us more news as soon as the Denver doctors made their assessments. But soon hadn’t arrived soon enough to stop my ever-growing fear of the future.
Despite my gloom, I was anxious for the show to start. I was curious to see how my team and our wacky King Kong event would be portrayed.
But I had to wait to almost the end of the show to find out. First up was the Wild Cajun Cooks. Their event included a reception sponsored by Google Earth’s Brazilian Indian Tribe Project, aimed to counter deforestation in the Amazon. A topic, I must admit, I knew nothing about. But it was fun to see their special guests Leonardo DiCaprio, Harrison Ford, and Charlize Theron drinking coffees while eating pralines and beignets with the Wild Cajuns.
But the Wild Cajuns’ entertainment was nothing new. Once again, they fired up a Cajun band while the celebrities drank longnecks and danced to the fiddling of “Jambalaya” and other toetapping melodies.
But the funniest moment came when Bubba gave a toothy grin as he explained, “Back where I’m from, deforestation would stop if da hurricanes would quit blowing the tops off da pines.”
Next was Team Batter Up.
I enjoyed seeing the celebrity guests, including Michael Douglas and Barbra Streisand, though I was shocked that Team Batter Up hadn’t asked Barbra to sing. It would have been nice to have heard “The Way We Were” or one of her other hits. Instead, Team Batter Up invited some of the cast from the Broadway hit
Spamalot
to whistle and sing a couple of rounds of “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.” But even with the cute musical number, I wasn’t impressed with the team’s menu of cheesecake balls, cheeses, and wines.
The only team that was left was us. I got a bit weepy when they showed Goldie’s heartache over Jack’s heart attack. But by the end of our package, I was furious.
With clever editing, they’d made it appear as if Donna had abandoned her duties to sneak off with Wade. The cameramen had somehow followed the drama from the gorilla passing Donna the note, to a close-up of what appeared to be the note.
DONNA, MEET ME IN CONF. ROOM B FOR KISS—
WADE
Our entire row gasped simultaneously.
Poor Donna
. I gave her a sideways glance and could see her face burning bright even in the darkness.
But despite the lie, the big smash of the night was Dolly and Cher singing “Jolene.” The audience of Studio 8 H broke out in wild applause at their rendition. The only other negative came when Judge Isabelle accused us of skimping on the alcohol.
“How can you have team spirit without spirits?” she’d asked us. “And why did you say that no alcohol is the new trend? No way, José!”
The camera focused on me, so I replied, “We are the trendsetters. So, after tonight, America will fall in love with our banana drink, with the recipe posted on our blog! Show these judges we’re right, America, vote Team Potluck!”
The audience affirmed us with their laughter and applause.
Later, when we met in my room for our prayer time, Donna was still burning mad. “Gang, what do you say we call it quits?” she asked as soon as we were all seated around the room.
Vonnie, who was stretched in the lounge chair, leaned forward and shook her head. “Donna, I’m so sorry for what they did to you tonight, switching the notes an’ all, but …”
I sat on the edge of the bed and finished what Vonnie couldn’t. “We have too much time invested to walk off now.”
Lizzie shook her head. “But if this thing is rigged, then why …”
“But we don’t know that for sure,” I said. “Let’s see if we make it out of this round tomorrow. If we’re in the final party-off, I think we should stay. Agreed?”
Everyone nodded but Donna, who said, “I’m not a quitter, but the next time anyone messes with me I’ll, I’ll …”
“What will you do, dear?” Vonnie asked, lines of worry creasing her pleasant face.
“Walk off the set, pack my bags, and head home, million dollars or not.”
I shuddered at the thought.
The next day, when we arrived at the studio, our team surrounded Kat Sebastian before Gianne could start the elimination process.
Hands on my hips, I demanded, “What was the meaning of embarrassing our Donna?”
Kat, dressed in a black, short-sleeve mock turtleneck and matching pants, look confused. “I know we played up the rendezvous angle a bit, but …”
“But it never happened,” Donna challenged, her arms folded across her Team Potluck tee. “I was tricked down to that conference room, and not by Wade.”
“Are you sure? I saw Wade’s note, the whole world did and—”
Wade stepped forward. “I didn’t write that note.”
Kat looked puzzled. “Maybe my team took a few liberties. If so, I apologize. We’re under a lot of pressure from the network to get the ratings up. So, I’ll look into your accusations. In the meantime, no hard feelings, okay?”
She dismissed us by clapping her hands. “Gather round, everyone. Great news! Going into our final competition, I’m happy to announce our show hit an all-time high in the ratings last night with over forty million viewers.”
Everyone but Team Potluck applauded. Kat continued, “Places, everyone, it’s time for Gianne to announce the eliminations. Good luck.”
Donna muttered under her breath, “In this case, good luck would mean good riddance.”
Gianne, dressed in a rose-colored silk frock with a screamingshort hemline, bid Team Batter Up a mournful farewell. Then she brightened as she looked from first the Wild Cajun Cooks to Team Potluck as we stood on our markers. “Before me I have two deserving teams, each so close to winning a cool million dollars. But who will it be?” She paused dramatically. “Will it be the Wild Cajun Cooks, who have brought us fiddles and gumbo with just the right amount of spice? Or …” Gianne turned to face our team. “Will it be a team who has brought us laughter, great food, and red-hot romance? Only time will tell. Stay tuned, America, it’s up to you.”
Team Batter Up had struck out.
Team Potluck and the Wild Cajun Cooks were scheduled for the final cook-off, which—according to Gianne—was for our team to cater a fund-raiser for the New York City Rescue Mission at the American Museum of Natural History, while the Wild Cajun Cooks were scheduled to host an event at the New York Public Library for the oncology department of the Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital of New York–Presbyterian. Our event would be held on Saturday evening, which meant we had three days to design the theme, determine the food served, purchase the necessary items, prepare the food, and then serve the food to the one hundred prestigious guests along with themed entertainment.
Three days.
When the filming was over and we were sent to our war rooms, Lisa Leann went into action as she always does. “Donna, what are the chances you have your laptop with you?” she asked.
“None. It’s in my room back at the hotel. Why?”
“Rats. I have an idea …”
“Of course you do,” Evie piped in.
Lisa Leann turned to look at her. “What does that mean?”
“It means you always have an idea.”
“And have I steered us wrong thus far, Evangeline Vesey?”
“Girls!” I said. I rubbed my head. “Where is all
this
coming from?”
Evie placed her hands on her hips, splaying her fingers and drumming them along her hipbones. “I just think that for once we might like to hear someone else’s idea.”
Lisa Leann crossed her arms. “All right, missy. What idea do you have? I’m listening.”
Evie blanched, then said, “I don’t have an idea this minute. But if you give me a second or two, I might come up with something.”
I pressed my lips together. “Evie, while you are thinking and Lisa Leann, while you are calming down, I want to mention that we are minus one caterer and we might need to find out if she can make it back for the next event.”
“Good thought, Lizzie,” Vonnie said. “Why don’t you call her?”
I pulled my cell phone from my purse, walked over to a chair in the corner of the room, and dialed Goldie’s cell number. It was still a bit early in Colorado, and I hoped not to wake her. Unfortunately, she answered, groggy.
“Oh, Goldie. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” she half whispered into the phone. “We had a long night last night and I was sleeping in.” She paused. “What time is it … oh … you’re at the studio by now.”
“Yes.”
“And? Are we in or out?”
“We’re in, Goldie. We made it to the finals.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“That’s wonderful,” she said, her voice still in a whisper. “Tell everyone I said congrats.”
“I will. We’re trying to decide on a theme now. We have three days to put together an event to raise money for the New York City Rescue Mission at the American Museum of Natural History.”