Page 35 of Last Slice of Pie

“Why are you frowning?” Marie asks, standing next to me.

I blink and the moonlight disappears, leaving only my reflection in the green room mirror. That’s right, I’m in the green room of the largest news station in Tampa.

Three days ago, Marie got a call from one of their producers asking if we would like to be on their show. They saw us featured in the magazine and said how proud they were that someone local was being represented. Of course we said yes, as it would be even more exposure for Firefly Kitchen, and we squealed with excitement.

“Stop thinking about whatever your mind has drifted to, and instead think about that gorgeous man of yours.”

A blush creeps up into my cheeks. “I wouldn’t say he’s mine.”

“Well, you should. He came to spend the holiday with you and he’s texting you nonstop. That’s gotta mean something.”

“Maybe.”

The only bummer about this trip to Tampa is that Bryan’s team left this morning for Miami. It would have been nice for it to overlap so I could have seen him.

The door to the green room opens, and one of the show directors comes to retrieve me. I would say I’m nervous, but it’s a different kind of nervous, one that stems from opportunity and not fear of the camera.

We use the stage set that is a kitchen. Behind us, the wall, which is a large screen, has my logo stretched from one side to the other, and my pride swells as I think about how far I’ve come. Everyone is all smiles as we take our places, and then a guy starts counting down with his fingers next to the main camera. The light on it flips from red to green.

The interview goes off without a hitch. We talk about how I got started, what makes us unique, and the holiday gift guide, and we even pretend to bake a pie. I brought along with me the five staple pie fillings to display and a premade pie crust to walk through how easy it is to assemble, and then from the oven, we whip out a baked pie. The host slices it, we each take a bite, and I am elated with how smooth everything goes—until she gets this mischievous gleam in her eye and says this.

“All right, before we let you go, the Tampa Bay viewers would be outraged if I didn’t ask about your new relationship with the Tarpons team captain and infamous quarterback Bryan Brennen. He’s always been such a private person, so this has us all buzzing with excitement.”

I try to keep smiling, I really do, and I’m certain the host sees my hackles rise, but that doesn’t deter her. “I’m not really sure what there is to tell.” I’m trying to be vague.

She forges on anyway, completely dismissing how uncomfortable I clearly am.

“How about you start from the beginning, when the pictures of you together first emerged from the team family event. Everyone here—and the sports world in general—was shocked to see him with ‘a mystery girl.’ Did he get you the job at the event?”

I can feel my eyebrow twitching as I try to maintain my composure. I know whatever I say will reflect on him either favorably or negatively, and the last thing I want to do is embarrass him.

“Bryan and I have known each other for a long time. I was very grateful for the opportunity to bring in Firefly Kitchen’s pies for his team, his friends, and their families.”

“That’s right, you two have known each other for a very long time. In fact, you are the sister of his best friend James, and our producers stumbled across this photo of the three of you from his high school yearbook. You look so young, happy, and cozy, if I do say so myself.” She winks and then gestures to the large screen behind us. My logo has disappeared, and there’s a photo of us from the team event then it switches to the older image, the one where Bryan is holding my hand.

“Yes, we were happy. This was taken after they won the state championship.”

“Such an exciting career he’s had, and it’s so great to finally know he’s had someone on the sidelines for him all these years. I know I speak for everyone here at the station when I say we are waving the Tarpons colors proud with their current undefeated season.”

Not having a response, I continue to fake smile as my heart sinks. I can’t help but wonder if this face-to-face time is even about Firefly Kitchen, or if it’s them wanting to be the first to speak to me about him.

“Well, Lexi, we’d like to thank you for coming on the show today.”

“Thank you for having me.”

She turns to face the camera. “If you’re at home, make sure you hop onto Firefly Kitchen’s website and order yours today for the holidays, because one thing’s for sure, with the backing of Bryan Brennen, this business is bound to skyrocket. Congratulations again on your new success.”

The backing of Bryan Brennen. I can feel my ears getting warmer as anger rises in me and I try to tamp it down. Your new success. If she’d done her research, she would know I’ve been successful for years, winning awards all across the state of Florida for my pies. Through gritted teeth, I thank her again, and we cut to a commercial.

Packing up my things, I focus on Marie as I walk off the set without so much as even a goodbye. Her lips are pinched together, but she’s still smiling, and she’s reading my body language as only she can after knowing me for so long. She knows I’m pissed. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I would get ambushed about Bryan here. Maybe asked about it, though I had hoped not, but nothing like that. And to imply that my success is somehow because of who he is and not because I’ve worked so hard to do this on my own makes me more upset than I thought possible. Yes, I am grateful for getting to bring my pies to the team event. I’ve received several orders and requests for catering as a result, but I have to believe it’s because they loved the pies, not because of Bryan.

Together, Marie and I walk side by side, collect our things, and head for the exit door.

Pulling my phone out of my bag, I see there’s a text waiting for me.

Bryan: How did it go? BTW I’m proud of you.

A tiny bit of my anger fizzles out. After all, I know what I’ve done, he knows what I’ve done, and these people don’t matter.