Dex (11 page)

CHAPTER sixte
en

“Come in,” Ezra responded to the faint taps on his door.

Dex entered hesitantly. Ezra was sitting in a big black leather chair behind an enormous glass desk, his face buried in a computer screen the size of a television.

“Have a seat,” Ezra said without lifting his head up.  “How are you feeling, kid?” he went
on, still staring at the screen.

“I’m okay. I guess.” Dex sat down on the far end of a row of four seats lined up in front of Ezra’s desk.

“Okay,” Ezra repeated, now peering over the screen.

Dex suddenly felt at a loss for words. Not the best state to be in after just watching the audience for his show being ushered into the studio on his way up to Ezra’s office.

“The woman at the front desk downstairs said you wanted to see me,” Dex added, pleased to be making intelligible conversation.

“Yes, I did. Do you know how important today is?” Ezra jumped out of his seat as if a bee had landed in his lap. “It’s your first show!” He patted Dex on the back a little too enthusiastically.

Dex lurched forward and nearly fell onto Ezra’s desk. “I know,” he replied, wriggling back into his chair.

“Your family here?”

“They’re in the reception area.”

“Lisa, one of my assistants, is working on getting you a dressing room.”

“I don’t really need one,” Dex declared. “I can get dressed at home.”

“Of course,” Ezra chuckled, “but it’ll come in handy to have a place to call your own around here. Trust me.”

Trust him. This whole situation was about trusting Ezra. If anyone had asked Dex a few weeks ago if he could imagine himself on his own cooking show, he would still be laughing. This definitely was not his idea, and right now the biggest plus was that Hunter, Sarah’s now ex- boyfriend, didn’t have his own wrestling show to use to get her back.

“You nervous?” Ezra asked.

Dex shrugged.

“Are you at least
this
nervous?” Ezra inquired, showing some middle-of-the-road amount with his hands.

Why did Ezra sound like he wanted Dex to be nervous? Nervous was not a good thing. Nervous made singers squeak and quarterbacks drop the ball. Nervous made actors forget lines and gymnasts fall off the balance beam. Nervous made him look like a dork in front of the girl he needed to impress. Would Ezra be pleased to know the extent of Dex’s talent; he could make pasta disappear and tomato sauce fly?! Bet he’d be thrilled to find out Vince had to call in a professional crew to clean up after that disastrous rehearsal.

“Yeah,” Dex obliged. “I’m at least
that
nervous.”

“Good. It’s always best when you are,” Ezra guaranteed. “Once the adrenaline kicks in, that’s when you really shine.” Ezra looked Dex in the eye as if he could read his mind. “When you’re as talented as you are, even your mistakes are magnetic.”

There was a strong knock at the door. A guy wearing headphones and a frown walked in and told Ezra about a sound problem on the main stage. Ezra shook his head and slapped his left hand over his mouth, shutting himself up before saying something regretful.

“Dex, you’ll have to excuse me,” Ezra said between pursed lips. “Seems like nothing can get done around here without me.”

“Sure, no problem,” Dex replied, walking out with both men.

“You’re a good kid, Dex,” Ezra said pointing at him. “I’m going to take you far. Just make sure you stay nervous.” He smiled and disappeared down the hall.

Before he stepped into the elevator, Dex caught a glimpse of Preston LeTray trying to catch up with Ezra. He was scrunching his face like he had just sucked a whole lemon and Dex wondered why Preston was always angry. Maybe he needed to eat prunes. Geema said they always made her feel happier with the world.

#

“Where were you all this time?” Marla scolded the moment Dex stepped off the elevator.

“Talking to Ezra, just like I told you,” Dex darted back. “Where’d you think I’d be?”

“I don’t know,” Marla admitted, “I guess I’m nervous. Your father had to leave.”

“Why?”

“The night manager’s wife broke her wrist, and apparently, after only a couple of months on the job, your father is the only one who knows how to run the store,” Marla squawked.

“Maybe Dad’ll be discovered,” Dex mused.

“Discovered? What are you talking about?”

Dex shrugged. “You know-Sarah’s uncle had to go back to China because his daughter had twins early. I took his place and now I’m a TV chef.”

“Somehow I don’t foresee that happening,” Marla contended.

“Where’s Geema?” Dex asked, looking around the reception area.

“Ladies’ room. She’s taking those pills that make her…”

“Yeah, okay, Mom. TMI.”

“These things are facts of life, Dex.”

“Good. Can I please not have to think about how much my grandmother needs to pee before I make Lobster Mac ’N Cheese?” Dex pleaded.

A young, bouncy woman with short purple hair and a pierced nose walked over. She was wearing a low-cut top that offered a clear view of the tattoo of a gingerbread house that lived on her chest.

“Dex?” she asked as if she already knew.

Dex nodded.

“I’m Casey, the assistant producer of your show. I sent you the email.”

“You’re the producer,” Marla interrupted with a muted snicker and widened eyes.

“Assistant,” Casey corrected. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Rossi.”

“Likewise,” said Marla shaking the young woman’s hand.

“Yeah, I know who you are,” Dex exclaimed, scolding his mother with his furrowed brow.

“Oh, okay. Good,” Casey chuckled directing her focus on Dex. “Well, come follow me so you can see what your life is going to look like in about an hour and a half.”

Marla shifted her gaze from Casey’s tattoo to Dex’s worried face. “You’re going to do great, honey,” Marla promised. “You’ll see. You’re a natural.”

A crash of thunder outside interrupted her and Dex was confused at seeing her eyes get teary.

“Did you hear that, Dex?” “Duh, Korea heard that.”

She turned her head toward the sky, and threw a kiss up into the air, “That was Poppy. He’s going to be with you.”

“Thanks. I knew he would be.”

Dex kissed his mother on the cheek and then met up with Casey, who was at the elevator texting something on her neon lime iPhone.

“Dex,” Marla called down the hall, “Have fun.”

#

The studio kitchen was intense. Dex had seen it on the virtual tour Casey had emailed him, when she had sent the script and overview of the show, but seeing it in person made him tingle. He stared at the stainless-steel double wall oven and got as excited as he knew some guys got about driving a Ferrari. But, how many of those guys could say with certainty what they wanted to do with their lives? Dex knew he was a chef. That had to count for something.

“So these are going to make your life a whole lot easier!” Casey explained, pointing to groups of utensils positioned in ceramic holders along the granite counters.

Dex chuckled. “I know! My father used to sell them.”

He remembered how psyched Vince would be when he came back from conventions with new ‘toys’ for Dex to check out. Maybe after he saved Poppy’s Kitchen from foreclosure, Dex mused, he could help his father open his own business again. Or maybe, he should be paying attention to Casey so he wouldn’t make an idiot of himself on television.

Dex picked up a round disk that had a nub-like handle.  “Know what this is for?” he asked Casey.

“Um, a Play-Doh pancake mold?”

“Close,” he teased, “a hamburger press.”

“Oh, that’s so cool. I’m strictly a behind-the-scenes person, so I don’t know much about this stuff,” Casey admitted. “I can barely toast a bun let alone make a burger.”

As Dex had expected, all the ingredients he’d asked for were measured out in ramekins, little cups. The vegetables were washed and the other items could be easily unwrapped. There was nothing that looked out of the ordinary, and as Casey finished explaining procedures and ended the tour, Dex felt surprisingly at home.

“Come on,” Casey instructed, “I’ll take you to make-up.”

Make-up? Like lipstick and the stuff Alicia would spend hours putting on her eyes?

“Don’t worry,” Casey said, “You’re not going to look like a runway model. They just use some powder to keep your skin tone looking even and bright on camera.”

Dex was relieved. He had enough problems without having to be labeled at school as the skinny kid wearing mascara. As Casey led him behind the back wall of the kitchen, Dex could see the audience. Not as many people as he thought, but then again this was a television show, not a P!nk concert.

The make-up room was at the end of a short corridor and reminded Dex of a mini version of Liza’s fathers’ salon. The walls were mostly white, except for the pale blue one that supported the huge mirror that ran the length and width of the room.

“Want to sit?” Casey asked, pointing to one of the four oversized, gray chairs positioned in front of the mirror.

Dex shook his head. Even though his legs felt as steady as licorice sticks, he was too excited to sit. “Nah, that’s okay.”

“Okay then. I’ll be right back,” Casey said walking out.

Dex eyed the portable coffee bar on the opposite corner of the room. It was worth a look. He walked past an elderly woman having her silver hair teased by a middle-aged woman with puffy platinum blonde hair and pounds of make-up.

“You want a hot
chawklit
, hon?” asked the blonde into the mirror, seeing Dex rifle through the assorted packages. “It’s got those teeny
mawshmellows
. Really yummy.”

“Oh, no that’s okay.” Dex said, putting back a package of instant chicken noodle soup. “I’m just waiting.”

“Who are you waiting for? Does your mom work here?”

“No. I do,” Dex said, letting this new reality sink in.  “I’m supposed to get make-up.”

“Oooohh!
Yaw
the kid. The kid with the show!” The blonde turned directly to Dex. “
Sawrry
. I had no
ideeyah
! What’s
ya name
?”

“Dex. Dex Rossi.”

“
Roight. Roight
. Ezra sent me an email,” she remembered. “Just give me a minute to finish.”

The blonde had the woman done and out of the room in seconds.

“Come sit here, Dex,” she directed, plopping him into a seat behind a mirror with lights all around it.

“
Boy
the way, I’m Flo.”

Dex watched as Flo picked up a tray of powders and creams, and a case of cotton swabs, brushes, and pads.