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Jolene.
    Jolene nodded. “Unfortunately. Just stay hydrated and eat some good protein.” She eyed Ashton’s coffee. “You should really drink water instead. That’ll make you crash later.”
    Sure, but right now she needed the caffeine boast. Yawning every ten seconds probably wouldn’t look great on camera.
    “Everyone gather around!” Sally shouted as she banged her hand on her ever-present clipboard. For someone so tiny, she had a voice that carried.
    “We’re going to start by filming each of you individually. This is the first time viewers will see you interviewed, so think about what you want to say about your food style. Remember, you’re trying to create a brand. Got it?”
    “Yes,” came eight mumbles.
    “Great.” Sally looked at her clipboard. “Jolene, you’re up first. We’ll call the next person when we’re ready.”
    Jolene was whisked off to a side room while the others gathered around the tables and wandered through the kitchen.
    After downing two more cups of coffee and an absurdly good piece of coffee cake, Ashton was still waiting. She decided to call the restaurant to check in.
    “Sweet Home, how may I help you?”
    “Hey, Jenna.”
    “Ashton! How’s it going?”
    “Boring. Mind-numbingly boring.”
    “Since when is cooking ‘boring’?”
    “Cooking isn’t boring,” Ashton said. “Sitting around for hours doing absolutely nothing is boring. You have no clue how much time is being wasted.”
    “Sure I do,” Jenna argued. “It’s the same whether it’s film or photography.” Jenna had made a small fortune modeling as a teen; she’d invested nearly every penny in the restaurant. “Think of it this way. You can use the time to figure out how to best utilize your stardom.”
    “Did you know they’d raised the prize money to a hundred grand this year?”
    Jenna gasped, and Ashton was pretty sure she heard an expletive, too. “Do you know what we could do with that kind of money?”
    “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
    There was a pause. “No pressure, of course.”
    Sure, and anchovies swam upstream.
    “Is everything going okay?” Ashton hated being away from the restaurant. She demanded perfection in the kitchen, but how could she guarantee it if she wasn’t there to oversee?
    “Everything’s fine,” Jenna answered after a pause that was way too long for Ashton’s comfort.
    “Jen?”
    Jenna sighed into the phone. “We got a shutoff notice from People’s Energy.”
    Ashton’s kneecaps thrummed, and she grabbed the wall for support.
    “I called them,” Jenna hurried. “We worked out a payment plan, but…if things don’t pick up, we’re going to have a hard time covering the utilities next month.”
    Ashton managed to talk over the lump in her throat. “Good thing we have a fireplace. We may have to start cooking over an open pit.”
    Jenna laughed, but it was brittle and forced. She paused. “I didn’t mean to say anything. I don’t want to put more pressure on you.”
    “It’s okay,” Ashton said. “I needed to know.”
    There was another pause on Jenna’s end. Then, “Your mom called yesterday, looking for you. You didn’t tell your parents what was going on?”
    That was the last thing she needed. “Why? So my dad can tell me not to embarrass him, like my first day of culinary school? I’m sure they’ll hear about it eventually.”
    “You have to call them, Ash. Doesn’t the show do a home visit in one of the episodes?”
    It did, and Ashton had been trying to mentally block it out. Otherwise, she couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t subconsciously bomb her dish to avoid it.
    She could just picture the home visit show. Charles Grey, food-critic extraordinaire, telling her on national television that she didn’t know how to properly make an aioli, with Ty Cates looking on. She swallowed back a gag.
    “If I make it through a few shows, I promise to tell them. No need to embarrass myself if I get eliminated right off.”
    “You