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drained of all color. “How can you say such a terrible thing about me? I’m the most liberal person you’ll ever meet, but I have to do what’s best for the show. Forgive me for sounding racist. It’s not what’s in my heart.”
    â€œYou pretend to be liberal, but your hatred of black people is glaring, and quite terrifying. I bet you’re a secret, card-carrying member of the Klan or the Tea Party. You could be an undercover white supremacist for all I know.” I looked at him with all the disdain I could muster.
    â€œOh, Cori, you know that’s not true. I’m Jewish and gay—adouble minority, myself. I would never…” His voice trailed off as if overcome by deep emotion.
    Technically, Josh was my boss and he had the final say on important issues, but since he was blubbering one apology after another, I figured I might as well milk the situation for all it was worth. Hell, the buffoonery and heathenishness I saw on those videos of Ralphie’s foster family made me cringe. But I disagreed with Josh and his test audience. A white boy speaking with a heavy ’hood dialect, along with a ghetto family would be the kind of train wreck entertainment that viewers wouldn’t be able to tear their eyes away from.
    â€œWhat do I have to do to prove I’m not racist?” Josh asked in a hoarse tone.
    â€œGet rid of the Texas cheerleader with the snatched waist and fake tits. I find her boob-job to be distracting,” I said, emphasizing the word, “distracting.”
    â€œTouché. But you have to admit that Doralee is gorgeous. The test audience loved her. Our ratings will be through the roof with her on the show. Her mother is a former beauty queen, and having the two of them together on camera during the finals will be such a boon for the show.”
    â€œI want her out of here.” I made the cutthroat gesture. “I don’t even care who the other three rejects are, as long as Ralphie isn’t one of them. For once, I’d like the pleasure of tasting food prepared by someone with a smidgen of cooking ability.”
    â€œGetting rid of Doralee is a big mistake,” Josh said gravely.
    â€œI’ll take the risk,” I retorted.
    Josh groaned.
    â€œBy the way, what’s the story of the hunk with the brawny chest and the dreamy light-brown eyes?” I softened my tone, indicating that I was over my hissy fit.
    â€œMichelangelo?”
    I nodded. “He’s hot.”
    â€œSmokin’,” Josh agreed. “All of the members of the crew are crushing on him.”
    â€œAnd what about you?”
    â€œI’m happy with the man I have at home, but I have to admit, Michelangelo is delicious eye candy.”
    â€œDoes he know his way around the kitchen or is he simply a pretty face, using the show as a vehicle for his acting debut?” I hoped he was a serious cook because I was already thinking of hiring him to work for me after the show wrapped. Since I only kept personal chefs for a few months, by the time Michelangelo was available, he’d be right in time to replace whoever was Tamara’s replacement’s replacement. I hoped Dreamy Eyes would be able to prepare tasty vegetarian cuisine. It was time for my husband to experience what it felt like to have hot male competition walking around the place where he should have been most comfortable—his own home!
    â€œNot only does Michelangelo have movie star good looks, but he can also throw down,” Josh said, trying to endear himself to me by using black slang. I tossed him a tight smile. I had to get along with him in order for the show to run smoothly, but now that he’d revealed his racist side, I’d definitely be giving Josh the side-eye from now on.

CHAPTER 5
    B ehind the scenes, two chefs who worked for me when I owned the Harlem restaurant, prepared the county-style potato salad, garlic green beans, and grilled boneless ribs