Young Mr Chrichton

Kevin called Renée who said she was at a salon having her hair done.

She said, "It's all on. We will be interviewed briefly during tonight's news and then a reporter and photographer from the Times will be in Eva White's office waiting for her. Please shave and wear a suit darling but go without a tie if you wish. How did you get on?"

"A contract negotiation meeting in the morning. Sounds like success to me."

"Oh congratulations. Well done. This is only round one so don't be tempted to be too greedy. Once you get good ratings is the time to turn the screws. Cushla and I are so proud of you."

"Who?"

"I have a big feeling our baby will be a girl. I rather like the name Cushla."

There was silence.

"Kevin?"

"Yes."

"Have I offended you by not discussing our baby's name with you?"

"I'm close to being offended."

"Oh well, obviously we need to have a discussion. What names do you favor?"

"Buck, Charlie, Ned and Dexter for starters."

"What about girl's names?"

Kevin said they needed to discuss that.

She laughed and said she expected to be home in about an hour.

Half an hour later Kevin began his second beer feeling very pleased with himself, being confident the only sticking point would be salary and he'd received good advice from Renée.

He sighed, thinking he'd come along way since hitting the road soon after graduation. He was practically estranged from his parents and so must do something solid about that like inviting them to come and stay with Renée and him regularly and perhaps going on vacation together if Renée agreed to that.

The there was Alice his sister. Oh wasn't that a great fuck they had? He laughed thinking he should invite her to accompany him on vacation. Er no, he was now mature enough to avoid mixing with her again. Er yes, sure. And anyway all up his wife was a great fuck, not so athletic and full on as Alice but she lasted longer and did things purely to please him. Oh yeah.

"Well Young Mr Crichton exercise some love and maturity eh?" he mused aloud. "Do that and you will appear to others as being a man rather than a ex-college kid who drove a Mustang and leered at pretty girls and stole money placed on trust by his parents."

"Jesus," he cried. "I stole from mom and dad!"

He went to his laptop and emailed his mom: 'Dear Mom and Dad. Thanks for all your past support. I'm transferring the $10,000 you gave me as an emergency fund into your household account. Many thanks from your extremely grateful son. I will be home next weekend to see you, accompanied by Renée is she is well. She's a bit scratchy at present. Love Kevin.'

He then found the household bank account number and made the electronic cash transfer and then could scarcely believe how good he felt as a reformed thief.

Yippee.

He then decided to trade in his Mustang for a fairly late model Explorer.

Kevin called Alice.

"Hi how you're doing?

"Fucking awful Kev. I'm really not suited to pregnancy."

"Talk to mom. She'll know how to help or will know someone who really can offer help. Renée tells me it's mostly the body fighting against changes and growing demands on it."

"Oh I never though of it that way. I must call Renée."

"Do that. In the meantime give me your bank account number. I wish to send you guys a little something for the nursery."

"Oh Kev, how sweet. I feel better already."

When preparing to okay the $1000 transaction Kevin thought of all the times Alice had been a real pal to him when they were growing up because he'd really been difficult to handle. Several times during that period his mom had fumed she was changing his name to Kevin Trouble Crichton. He smiled and thought yeah Alice had been a real star at times. He changed the $1000 to $10,000 and sent off the transaction, smiling hugely, wondering if Alice would pee herself when she next checked her bank balance.

Renée arrived home, looking beautiful but drawn. She was greeted expansively and looked at Kevin for the guilt to show, saw none so asked, "What is this about?"

"Nothing. You're just my darling."

"Oh God Kevin I love it. I hadn't realized being on the brink of winning your next contract meant so much to you. You are usually almost blasé about it."

"Nah, getting the job if that happens will be good but having you as a new mother is even better."

"Oooh come here you lovely man. I feel so much better."

They kissed unhurriedly until Kevin said, "Ma'am your bath awaits you."

"Jesus Kevin, are you okay?"

"Perfect but perhaps a little mild after two beers. Go to you bath and I'll fetch you mineral water."

Kevin entered the bathroom with their drinks and some plain cookies.

"Kevin about my bumptious way of attempting to sneak in the name for our daughter," Renée began guiltily."

"Oh that, it's fine. I'm already used to the name Cushla. You involvement in conceiving and bringing to the doorway into adulthood of our daughter is bound to be considerably more than my contribution, because that's how it works darling. Therefore you take precedence over me in the naming of our children. That's only being fair."

"Oh Mr Crichton, you are so lovely to me and so mature in your thinking."

"When you get affectionate like this you always call me Young Mr Crichton."

"Oh that, that's old hat. Let's discuss a middle name for Cushla. You go first."

"Well what about Scarlett or Mimi?"

Renée turned pale.

"Darling Kevin, may I suggest we first explore the possibility you are not 100% behind the name Cushla?"

* * *

Two weeks after Renée left her show on maternity leave she was back almost on an even keel, feeling well apart from tiring easily. She'd been delighted to have learned that day from someone up high at the studio that after two shows under the new director and the backup presenter, ratings for the show had taken a fall and a big advertiser who'd been with the show since Week 5 had suspended further advertiser until Renée returned as presenter. Renée's informant added that the chiefs were concerned but not yet panicking and said, "WWW-TV began a huge promotion today for a hot new cooking show, so it claims, that begins running on Wednesday next week at 7:00. Renée that's real prime time. We could never get something into our program schedule that wasn't murder, sex or political scandal into a top spot like that."

"What are they calling it?"

"Cooking at 7:00."

"God Claudia, that's bold and it means they are committing to the long haul."

"Renée I'm sharing this information because I have something to ask you."

"I can anticipate what your question will be, yes Kevin is behind this initiative and will direct."

"God Renée if our chief's believe you have assisted Kevin to set up that production..."

"Claudia now you listen to me. I have had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with the planning and preparation of that show. Kevin told me he was making a submission to WWW-TV for such a show and then later he'd told me he'd been signed up and the studio had committed to run the show five nights a week for each season. Now if my superiors don't accept my word about that then tough. I try to go to work for Kevin."

"Right I'll pass that on."

"Is there a whisper who will front their show?"

"Someone called The Arrogant Chef. No one here has ever heard of her."

"Omigod, what a masterly stroke. The younger set will really love him, older women too."

"Him?"

"Yes he's been all the rage in France this past year. He's nineteen and already a master chef as are his parents and both grandfathers. His English accent and mannerisms will make female viewers in this country automatically open their legs. I have a couple of tapes of him doing his hour-long show. There are in French with no translations of course. I'll dig them out for you and copy them on to DVD. Send someone over for them in about an hour. You guys may as well preview what the enemy is about to do to our show. It's war Claudia, make no mistake about that."

"I'll move to have your present retainer trebled darling. We'll probably request you to record their programs and help plan strategy for us."

"Fine but birthing must take priority."

"Of course darling. How will you keep this arrangement from Kevin?"

Renée laughed, assuming she was being recorded. "You don't have to worry darling. Kevin has already said this is probably what you guys will do if you have any sense."

"Fuck, why the hell did we let Kevin go?"

"Stupid decisions are made every day in television Claudia. Just remember my loyalty lies with my show, not Kevin's, and I would blast him off-air if I had to but actually I don't that the problem is all that big, apart from a new competitor competing for the advertising dollar. You see it's actually a brilliant set up for cooking-minded viewers. They can view our afternoon program and then at night guess what? Make sure our stupid programming jerks don't suggest our show switches to nights. I suggested to Kevin he should go for a prime time night spot purely because I wanted to protect my own show."

"Omigod, you're awesome. Wait until our chiefs listen to this recording of my conversation with you."

"Claudia you bitch. What the fuck are you doing recording this conversation without my consent? You are in breach of law in this jurisdiction," Renée shouted and cut the call.

She chuckled and stopped her own recording of that conversation.

Claudia immediately called back and apologized and Renée said she accepted the apology.

"Keep me in touch about ratings Claudia. I'm really worried about this new threat. I'll keep watching the show of course and make any suggestion I can think of to help combat slippage."

"You're a real darling Renée. Bye."

Renée assumed that conversation was also recorded. She hoped it was because it was meant to cement her loyalty in the minds of station chiefs.

Although Kevin invited Renée to the first-night screening of his new show, Cooking at 7:00, she declined saying her TV bosses would have kittens if she were caught on camera or it was reported she'd attended that launch.

"Come dresses as a spy?" he urged but she patted her big tummy and said no.

"Are your bosses in a panic of the fall in ratings of your show?"

"It's best I don't comment Kevin. Remember our promises to keep our business lives our of our private life?"

"Oh yeah. It's easy to forget isn't it?"

* * *

Kevin had lunch along with the so-called Arrogant Chef. Actually he found Dominique Deschamps to be a perfectly pleasant young man but like so many top professionals he had his pleasant side but that all changed when he focused on the job. Then he'd be demanding, even of himself, focusing on achieving perfection or as near to it as possible, and hostile if thwarted or challenged or faced with incompetence. When angered he tended to gesticulate dangerously if having a kitchen knife in his hand.

In the two weeks Dominique had been rehearsing and getting the set fitted out to his requirements he'd found one restaurant nearby that he liked and so they were seated there.

"Are you nervous about today Kevin?"

"Of course. This is like first night at the theater. The opening will greatly influence public opinion."

"You have acute understanding."

"Thanks Dominique. Such thoughts just come to me. And you, are you nervous?"

"Of course. I am perpetually nervous," he said in almost flawless English, having been educated in England at high school level. I also still remain resentful of you."

"Want to step out in the street and have it out, man to man?"

"You are two powerful for me. It would have to be with knives."

"Okay."

"What? You'll be prepared to face me with a knife after you've seen how I handle knives?"

"Yes providing you promise not to cut me up too much. That would upset my wife when viewing my body in the coffin."

Dominique looked astonished. "Are you serious or is this some type of American humor I'm not yet familiar with?"

"At my reasonably young age I'm committee enough to risk my life in order to advance my career as a director. I do want this show to succeed. I also point out to sometimes lie a bit."

Dominique grinned. "You have genuine humor. There is something I must tell you. I'm half-in-love with your beautiful wife."

"Oh?"

"Yes I have been watching tapes of her show when she is the presenter, not that stupid woman fronting at the moment. Renée is a composite artiste because she looks good, speaks beautifully, is graceful and a natural in front of camera and knows enough about cooking to stroke the egos of invited chefs on her show that they perform for her like puppy dogs. So that makes me like her. I love her because I see the way she moves, how she 'speaks' with her body. She should be Italian. I love her sexiness."

"Are you finished?"

"Yes."

"Let's go to the kitchen and choose our knifes."

"What? I'm sorry, I did not mean to... oh I see, the Quiet American jokes."

"Yeah Dominique. Are you still pissed off at me by my choice of the first dish you are prepare?"

"Well I have got used to the idea, yes. Also Avon said..."

"Yes I have noticed your body language when around my assistant."

"She is your assistant, not your Avon."

"That's true. As you were saying?"

"I was saying Avon said to me your choice of first dish was inspired thinking but then look who was doing the thinking. I had to think about that to understand what she meant. It was as we say, a true accolade."

"We say a genuine accolade but we also say that's just her view."

"Well Jake, the head chef here. We drank wine together two nights ago and I told him of your stupid choice as an opener and he said, "Holy shit man that's brilliant. Everyone can make French Toast even if it's bad French Toast. When people from the audience are chosen to come down and taste it they will rave and say you can really cook. Then you won't have to claim to America you can cook. Get it?"

"Well you are associating with intelligent people Dominique, first Avon and now Jake."

"And I will add your name to that list maestro. Even you know I'm unlikely to stuff up on French Toast."

As decreed by Kevin, the warm-up half-hour started five minutes late and over-ran by five minutes so that as the opening credit of 'Cooking at 7:00' began being televised viewers saw the last five minutes of the warm-up as the hilarity reached it's peak, a voice-over explaining this opening was intentional, simply to established 'Cooking at 7:00' was not the usual yawn run-of-mill cook show.

"So feel this pastry," Dominique said, "This is how pastry should feel."

He scooped out bits from the bowl under his arm and pelted the studio audience with rapid-fire samples. The audience was ducking and screaming with laughter and yelled missed, and some catching the pastry threw it back at Dominique, some scoring direct hits.

He then pulled out something from his apron pocket and tossed it yelling, "It's a raw egg."

The camera caught the astonished look of an elderly man as it landed and broke over the front of his jacket and polo shirt.

"My apologies sir. Here comes our Clara with eighty bucks for you for being such a good fall guy. Thanks everyone for warming up with me. Now I'll change this dirty apron and tie a fancy polka-dot kerchief around my neck to give the impression I'm a chef and I'll be ready to go."

Some people in the audience were pointing to monitors so Dominique leaned over to look and he said, "Oh Christ, we're already on live."

He turned to a camera said in the exaggerated accent Kevin wanted used, "Good evening everyone. Whoever has embarrassed me by involving me in this farce will get my boot us their... whatever rhymes with farce. If it's a woman well she'll be groped. A Frenchman would never kick a woman."

"Right I'm Dominique Deschamps from Paris. I say Paris because if I told you where I really come from in France most of you would be non the wiser. I'm thirty but my mom insists I'm nineteen and I have bruised ears to prove how hard she insists that."

"If you think this series will be all about French cooking then think again. God have you guys tried French cooking for two months on end? Then you'll appreciate this: French cooking is boring, boring, boring. If my mother learns I've said that then I'm dead. My father is one of the great chefs in France today and he was almost killed by his father, also a great chef, when my father declared he wasn't a French Chef that he was an International Chef and that's my slogan too."

"You know what? The director assistance of this show is a really cute babe... Dominique turned to look off-camera and said, "Someone put a camera on her." The screen was filled by the surprised and beautiful face of Avon.

Looking back to the camera focused on him, Dominique said, "When I date that really cute babe Avon Browning, she'll expected me to take her to a French restaurant but no I'll probably go Italian simply because they are passionate about food and their restaurants tend to rock a bit.

[The studio audience cheered and clapped].

"I know something most of you guys know; when away from home you'll never feel lonely if you dine at an Italian restaurant."

"Right this is what we do tonight. First we discuss and make French Toast and then we do a dish that I first started helping my grandmother made before I turned three years old, Bouillabaisse. If some of you have never made it then I feel sorry for you. Now I know traditional Provencal fish stew originally, so they say, in Marseille, believe me it's an international dish. As a sophisticate you can make it lovingly with the most expensive ingredients money can buy or you can make it at the orphanage by shoveling anything in the kitchen that's been alive into a cauldron."

There was an abrupt change in Dominique's presentation.

"Diane, look at the crap over this apron. Fetch me a clean one pronto. Viewers expect me to look clean and professional. Where are you Diane? Move your ass. Cliff get that inhumane white spotlight off where I will stand to cook or put a filter over it. Why do I have to tell you people how to do your jobs. Thanks Diane, here take the dirty one and let me hug you. Mom thinks I'm a proper bastard as well. Where's the feeking warning for the seconds to go to ad break? I know I was told but I can be expected to remember everything. What the hell am I suppose to cook? Gee this chaos is reminiscence of the stuff-ups in French television. It's great to feel at home. Oh someone's screaming in my ear to talk about French Toast.

"Right your unhealthy looking Americans sitting up there. Name me a country that doesn't have its own version of French bread?

Someone called Spain.

"Yeah you are dark enough to be Spanish. There it's called torrijas and is recorded as being made in Spain as far back as the fifteen century. Come on someone, give me a tougher challenge or do you wish to sit on the fence like some of your politicians?

"Indonesia."

"Thank you ma'am. Nice attempt to catch me out. Roti telur meaning egg bread. Viewers I swear these people in out audence have not been coached. This is my arogant way to demonstrate I'm not just a pretty face in chef's clothing. Right one more."

"France."

"Oh sweetheart, you are such fun and are determined to prove just how clever I am. Give that woman fifty bucks Clara (the camera focuses on the beaming woman being given the money)."

"Well surprise, surprise. In traditional France it's called pain perdu which literally means 'lost bread' but I grant you in restaurants on tourist trails you will find it listed in the menu as French toast. The origins of French toast go back to Roman times. Here comes the ad break which is my way of demonstrating that this show is coming to you live. When I return we'll look at how to make great French Toast. Where's the men's room Diane?"