Love & Other Disasters(94)

London grinned. “Only around you.”

“Get in, asswipe.”

“Wait. Where are we going?” London asked again, but they were already clicking in their seat belt.

Julie glanced at her phone before tossing it in the cup holder.

“You’re needed back on set for something.”

“What?” London threw their head back with a groan. “I thought I was done with that place! They better have cleaned up the glitter. Wait, are you taking me back there just to torment me with more glitter? It’s weird, but also feels like something you would do.”

Julie shook her head, eyes on the road.

London turned in their seat. They squinted at her.

“Why are you being so quiet? What secret are you hiding?”

Julie bit her lip.

London squinted harder.

“Hmm. Everyone in our family knows how bad you are at hiding secrets. So who would . . . ?”

London gasped. And smacked their twin sister in the arm.

“Ow!” she shouted, rubbing her bicep. “Jeez, London. Don’t kill us before we even get there.”

“It’s her, isn’t it? I saw you talking to her this morning. Are you like, friends or something? What the fuck.”

Julie just smirked.

London faced forward again, rubbing their temples. Their stomach flip-flopped.

She had disappeared, after the cameras turned off and they could finally look for her. It had left them feeling unsettled, disappointed, but then Ahmed was hugging them, and Cath was smacking them on the back, and they were being introduced to all the former winners of Chef’s Special, and their family was whisking them away and plying them with champagne.

Julie came to a stop outside the gate to the studio lot. She turned to smile at them.

“Go get her, London.”

Their hands shook as they undid their seat belt. They were halfway out the door when Julie called out to them again. London looked back.

“Yeah?”

“She seems cool. Don’t be a doofus.”

“I hate you.” They slammed the car door shut. And leaned back inside the open window. “But also, you know I love you, right?”

“Oh my god,” Julie waved an arm. “Go!”

So they did. London sprinted through the gate, down the sidewalk, past jacaranda trees, fizzy champagne bubbles coursing through their veins, until they reached sound stage three. They ripped open the door. Ran until they reached the wooden archway where they had first met.

They paused, wheezing slightly, leaning over to catch their breath. Finally, gathering themself, they straightened, and for the actual last time, stepped onto the set of Chef’s Special.

And that was when time stopped.

The pause in the universe allowed all the remaining bruised, healing pieces inside London to rush together again, until miraculously, their entire body relaxed, and they felt whole.

Dahlia let out a small squeak. She tried to quickly pull off her dirty apron, although of course it got stuck in her hair, which was up in its signature bun. After a moment, she untangled herself, the bird’s nest on her head only thrown slightly askew, and she threw the yellow apron to the side. She nervously patted down her skirt.

See you soon.

She stood in the middle of the Golden Circle in front of the judges’ station, which was now graced with a dollar-store CONGRATULATIONS! banner, the metallic colors of each letter glinting under the studio lights.

London could see, even from the back of the set, that Dahlia’s knuckles were white as she held them in front of her, worrying the black tulle of her skirt.

London stuffed their hands in their pockets.

They made their way between the two mega stations, still set up from the finale.

They tried not to smile too hard, but the champagne and adrenaline still in their system were making it difficult.

Dahlia twirled around before they could reach her. She jumped behind the judges’ table, moving plates and utensils.

London stopped when they got there. They looked down at her spread.

London was never going to forget this day.

“You made me barbecue.”

“Stop smiling like that,” Dahlia snapped. “You don’t even know if it’s good.”

London smiled harder. “What a ridiculous statement. Of course I do.” They examined the dishes closer. “You made my favorite sides. How did you know my favorite sides? I don’t think I told you.”

Dahlia plopped herself in Audra Carnegie’s seat and waved an impatient hand.

“Julie comments on all of your posts. I know how to use the internet. It wasn’t hard.”

“And we’re sitting at the judges’ table. That seems bold.”

“I thought . . . ” Dahlia swallowed. “I thought you deserved the best table.” She picked up her glass of white wine and then put it down again without taking a drink.

London glanced at the glass of red placed next to their plate.

“You know, we should really be drinking beer with barbecue, not wine.”

“I don’t know what kind of beer you like, and I’d already bugged Julie about too much stuff ! And . . . I’ve never seen you drink beer!” Dahlia shouted, her voice on the verge of hysterics.

She closed her eyes and took a breath. London almost felt bad. Maybe they were being mean. They were too happy to have any sort of perspective. They loved that she was snapping at them while trying to pull off this nice thing. How had she even pulled this off ? She must have been here ever since the finale finished. She had a streak of barbecue sauce on her cheek. She was so, so pretty. London had missed her so much.