01 State of the Onion by Julie Hyzy

Author:Julie Hyzy [Hyzy, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2008-01-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

BACK IN THE KITCHEN, CYAN’S HAND SLIPPED. A cabinet door slammed shut with a bang.

“Cut!” Carmen yelled, and lowered his camera.

The crew relaxed.

Laurel Anne’s million-dollar smile dropped like rotten tomatoes on hot cement.

Jamming his free fist against his hipbone, Carmen advanced on Cyan. “What the hell is wrong with you? I told you all—no unexpected noises.” He turned to face the rest of us. “Control, people. We gotta maintain control.” He wagged his wide head, the mop of black draping over the front of his face when he finished shaking. “I need a goddamn cigarette,” he said, and stormed out the kitchen doorway.

I hoped he knew there was limited smoking on the White House grounds. And that he’d have to be escorted to the designated smoking area and escorted back. Each administration set its own policy regarding tobacco. President Campbell occasionally perched an unlit cigar in his mouth, but I’d never seen him smoke one here, or anywhere. Why the news media folks cared one way or another was beyond me. But these days, every tiny tidbit of a politician’s life was fodder for commentary.

Carmen’s departure notwithstanding, Jake continued to film.

Laurel Anne paced the small kitchen. Fury emanated from her like heat from a banana flambé. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said. Grease splatters covered her pink apron. It was her third one, at least—she might’ve changed aprons again while I’d been out of the room. “They wouldn’t let me bring in a wardrobe or makeup person, can you believe it?” she asked rhetorically.

I returned my attention to the computer to finish recording the results of our taste-testing. Henry stood over my shoulder as I noted which items had been approved, which rejected, and why. We had a comprehensive list of possibilities out there. Some we’d try again someday, others we knew better. But we kept them on file, just the same, for reference. No such thing as too much information where individuals’ tastes were concerned.

Despite Sargeant’s dark cloud of input, and Bucky’s disappointment, I considered the taste test a success. We had the equivalent of three complete menus to submit to our guests’ dietary consultants for final approval.

I typed while eavesdropping on Bucky’s conversation with Henry. Poor Bucky. He chopped artichoke hearts even as he dissed Peter Sargeant. “Good thing I’m not an alcoholic,” he said in a low voice. “I’d be tempted to break into the cooking sherry today.”

“Will you be done soon?” Laurel Anne asked.

She repeated herself twice before I realized she was talking to me.

“I’m finished right…” I hit “Save” and “Exit” as I spoke. “…now.”

“It’s about time. Not only do I have to work with half a staff,” she flung an arm toward the other end of the kitchen, “but I’m stuck trying to impress the First Family on a day when the president’s wife is probably stuffed from your taste-testing.”

She had a point. A good one. I’d questioned Sargeant’s wisdom on the timing of this audition, but he’d made it clear that I just couldn’t see “the big picture.

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