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“Where’s Maria, by the way?” I asked.
“She rushed off to attend to an emergency this morning at her child’s school. I guess we’ll be taking breakfast out of her hands now.” Hudson smirked and led the way into the kitchen. His confidence was scary. I was beginning to rethink the challenge. What if he actually won? Who knows the things he would ask me to do?
We got busy in the kitchen at our different ends. I watched him strategically lay out all the required ingredients. Then, he brought the music player in his room into the kitchen and turned it all the way up.
“Seriously?” I protested. He danced along, making sure I was watching. I laughed at his moves—they were awkward, though he was flexible.
Soon, he began to sing along. He would draw closer and yell the lyrics into my ears to tease me.
“Don’t fight it, Madison! Let the Ariana in you fly!”
I couldn’t contain my laughter, even as I tried so hard to concentrate on what I was doing. Then he began to get the lyrics wrong, and I just couldn’t let that slide.
“I’m not one to stick around. One strike, and you’re out, baby. Don’t care if I sound crazy, but you never let me down, no, no. That’s why when the sun’s up, I’m stayin’ Still layin’ in your bed, saying,” he sang.
“Oh yeah?”
“That’s how you sing it! Don’t you dare mess with my jam!”
“So, lock the door and throw out the key. Can’t fight this no more. It’s just you and me. And there’s nothin’ I, nothin’ I, I can do. I’m stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you.”
“All right!”
“I’m not so bad with the chorus now, am I?”
“I’ll give you that!”
We did the last chorus together, singing on top of our voices. In that moment, it seemed like the whole world was our stage. We were so absorbed that we didn’t even hear Maria walking in.
She drew close to me and pulled me by the arm. “What is he doing in the kitchen?”
“Oh, hi, Maria!” I greeted.
Over the loud music, Hudson finally noticed her presence and exclaimed, “We are making pies for breakfast.”
“All right, boss. I can take it up from here now,” Maria said.
“And make me lose my bet? Not a chance!” Hudson replied.
I laughed. Maria just stared at us like we were two crazy teenagers going wild.
“You’re going to have to sit this one out, Maria. Hope you’ve taken care of your emergency?” Hudson asked.
“Yes, boss, it was nothing too serious.”
“Great then!”
“Could I at least assist you here?” Maria offered.
“I’m not allowed to have a sous-chef, Maria. It’s against the rules of the game. Stay with June. You could fix her a cup of hot chocolate or something.”
We continued our little studio performance until we were done baking. As we pulled both pies out of the oven, the aroma was delightful. We allowed them to cool, then placed them on different plates. I took them out to the dining table, and we compelled Maria to join in on the tasting, too.
They had a taste of mine first and nodded in approval, a broad smile on June’s face. It was too soon for me to get excited. They were yet to taste Hudson’s.
Maria was the first to take a bit from Hudson’s. She was expressionless. That could mean either of two things—either it was really bad or really good, too good it left her speechless. It looked like it was going to be the latter; she still had it in her mouth, after all.
June took a bite from Hudson’s pie next. It was difficult for a little kid to conceal their true feelings, especially when they didn’t feel entitled to.
