“Tell me,” Ellen suddenly says while playing the pen she has inbetween her fingers. Her head is still looking down to a small pile of CV on her working desk.
Andy Lassner, who is sitting across Ellen, stops his explanations about the new candidates who are going to fill the empty post at the Ramses. “What?” he asks.
Ellen lifts up her face and leans back. “If you apologize to someone, but your apology is not accepted, what would you do?”
Andy stares at Ellen for a moment, then sighs. “You didn’t hear any single word I was saying to you, did you?” he complains. “Fine. I guess we better deal with the one that’s bugging you right now before you can focus on these CVs. What was the question?”
“If you apologize to someone, but your apology is not accepted, what would you do?”
“Man or woman?” Andy asks straight away.
“Woman.”
Andy shrugs. “If it was Audrey you were talking about, well, I’m sure you’re already the champion on winning her over and doesn’t need any further help from me. I thought all you need to melt Audrey’s heart are flowers and some sweet words?”
“She’s not Audrey who can be won over with flowers and sweet words,” Ellen mutters. “She’s…. cold.”
Andy’s eyebrows shot up. “Who is this girl?”
Ellen sways the pen on her hand from one side to another. “Nobody you know.”
“Usually you like to hang around with sweet and cheerful girls like Audrey,” Andy comments and smiles. “Since when did you start approaching cold women?”
“Since my mom picked out a cold fiancée for me,” Ellen grumbles.
“Fiancée?” Andy repeats with utter surprise. “What’s all this? Suddenly you’re engaged?”
Ellen wags the pen with her hand. “That’s how it is for my mom. She even threatened to hand over Ramses to my cousin if I don’t accept this ‘engagement’.”
Yes, her mom obviously never meant to show up at Oliver’s Tea yesterday afternoon. She set them up on purpose in the hope that Ellen could ‘use’ that moment. Apparently, Ellen failed. Portia de Rossi still hates her.
“Can your mom do that? Handing Ramses to someone else, I mean,” Andy asks dubiously.
Ellen snorts. “Of course not. Life's not a soap opera, Andy. You know how my mom is always so dramatic. So the threat doesn’t really matter.”
Andy frowns in confusion. “Well if it doesn’t matter, why are you still thinking about this girl?”
“Because…. Because I want her to give me a chance to prove that—,” Ellen trails off just like that. She moves absent-mindedly on her swivel chair, tapping her pen to her chin. “Well, actually, I already have an idea in mind. I’m just trying to put together some…. I don’t know, some incentives, if you may, to offer her.”
“Your story is getting more and more confusing,” Andy whines.
Suddenly Ellen leans over in one quick motion and focuses back on the spread out CV papers on her desk. “Never mind,” she says firmly. “Go on with the things about the new candidates.”
Andy sighs and shakes his head. He was just about to start talking when Ellen lifts her hand to stop him.
“What now?” he asks.
“Check this out.” Ellen taps one of the paper with her pen.
Andy leans over to get a glimpse of the pointed CV. “Benjamin Font. You know him?”
“Check out where he works at currently,” Ellen says.
“Uhm… A patisserie called A Piece of Cake. Madison Avenue. So…?”
Ellen stares at Andy with a faint smile on her lips. “So this can be just the right incentive that I needed.”
***********
“The secret in making brownies is to get it out of the oven right before you think it’s cooked,” Portia explains to the 6 participants of the baking class at Sunny Day, a charity foundation in Brooklyn where she holds a baking workshop once a week. “The core has to be soft and a little bit moist, not hard. Don’t worry if you see some sort of a little curve there and if the top cracks. Brownies are supposed to be slightly undercooked. It’d harden on its own when it cools down.”
The 6 participants of the day— 2 boys and 4 girls— are squatting in front of the oven of Sunny Day’s small kitchen, intently observing their respective brownie.
Sunny Day is a charity foundation which aims to help kids from troubled family or poor ones. Other than a safe haven for these kids to hang out, Sunny Day also offers lots of others activities, from workshops to teach certain skills for kids who can not go to school, to free counseling sessions with certified psychologists.
“Portia, mine looks weird,” one of the girls says plaintively.
Portia bends down to take a look. But before she can say anything, someone already steals her words.
“I think it looks alright.”
The voice sounds so close to her ear that Portia jolts and screams. “You!” she exclaims in surprise when she finally sees who it was.
Ellen smiles innocently. “Yes, me,” she says. “Hi, Portia de Rossi.”
Portia stares at the woman annoyedly. She has managed to avoid Ellen DeGeneres for about a week. She even has started to forget about her existence until this creature shows up in front of her eyes today. “What are you doing here?” she asks sharply.
“They said I might find you here,” Ellen answers lightly.
“They?”
“Ben, your staff, gave me the address of this place and the friendly woman at the front door let me in here to see you,” she explains.
Portia frowns. Why would Ellen DeGeneres want to see her? Why did she come all the way to Brooklyn? And how dare Ben gave away the information to a stranger— yes, Ellen DeGeneres is a stranger to her.
“You know, you’re gonna get wrinkles in early age if you keep frowning like that,” Ellen says, moving her finger in front of Portia’s face.
Portia is still sulking and wards off Ellen’s hand.
“Ben told you? Benjamin?”
“Yes. I told him I need to talk to you about him. That’s why he gave me the address voluntarily,” Ellen says. “So now you can stop planning out his demise in your head.”
This is getting even more confusing. And annoying. “Why do you want to talk to me about Ben?” she asks suspiciously.
Ellen looks around. “You wanna talk here?”
Portia follows Ellen’s eyes and is surprised to realize that there are 6 other people there. All 6 of them are still squatting in front of the oven, but now their attention has averted to Portia and Ellen.
“Portia, is she your girlfriend?” Alison, the girl with the blue hair observes Ellen from head to toe.
“No!” Portia rapidly refutes. Realizing that she just yelled, she tries her best to gain back her composure and answers in a calmer manner, “No.”
Ellen chimes in, “Not girlfriend. I’m her fian— ouch!”
Portia’s hand is quick to smack Ellen’s arm before she even realized what she was doing. “For fuck’s sake, shut the hell up!” she whispers sharply.
However, she wasn’t fast enough. Alison, like most teenagers with their imagination, has already caught what Ellen was about to say. Her eyes widen in wonder. “Fiancée?”
Portia waves away Alison’s question and announces, “Get the brownies out in 5 minutes. I’ll be right back.” And then her eyes go to Ellen. “You. Follow me.”
********
Ellen meekly follows Portia down a narrow hallway. They pass some small rooms that look like private offices. They also pass some people who greet Portia and smile to Ellen. And finally, Portia opens a door on their left and steps inside.
Ellen also enters the room which seems to be under-renovation. The walls are only partly-painted. Some chairs and a coffee table are covered in plastic. Cans of paint and some old newspapers are spread on the floor.
Ellen raises her eyebrows. For sure, she never once dreamed that Portia would invite her into a nice, comfortable room, but she surely also didn’t see this coming.
Portia goes to the only window in the room and turns around to see Ellen. “Well?” she says.
“Here?” Ellen asks.
Portia shrugs nonchalantly. “Other rooms are occupied,” she says. “So what is it you want to talk to me about Ben?”
Ellen nods and puts her hand together behind her back. “Alright,” she sighs. “Did you know that Ben sent a job application to Ramses?”
Portia thinks for a second, then groans internally. That’s true. Ben did send an application to the Ramses when he heard that they’re in need of a person on the dessert section. That’s why he told Ellen right away where Sophie is at. And Portia did know, and she fully supports Ben. But, that’s before she found out who the owner of the Ramses is.
“Yes, I know,” she admits reluctantly. “And?”
“And I just don’t want to provide you with more reasons to hate me,” Ellen says placidly. “I mean, when he stops working for you and starts working for me.”
Portia’s eyebrows shot up. “Does it mean that he got in?”
“Not yet,” Ellen says. “It all depends on what you're about to say to me.”
Now Portia frowns. “What?”
“I need to hear your opinion on him,” Ellen goes on with a serious tone. “He has been working with you for the last 2 years, so I’m pretty sure you know what he can and cannot do. Are the results of his work considered…. good?”
“Very very good,” Portia answers firmly.
“Good enough for a Michelin-starred restaurant like the Ramses?”
“Ben is very smart and hard-working. He can master everything he learns in a short span of time. I’m sure he’s suitable and capable of working at your place.”
“Is he good at teamwork?”
This time Portia hesitates a bit, then she says carefully, “He’s a little…. reserved. But I believe you don’t want someone who talks too much either, do you?”
Ellen nods but stays silent.
“So,” Portia asks. “Does he get in?”
Ellen smiles innocently. “Like I said, it all depends on what you’re about to say to me.”
Portia looks confused. “But I already answered all your questions.”
“Not those questions.”
“Huh? So which one?”
“Patience,” Ellen quickly says when she sees Portia started scowling again. “I want to talk about last week.”
“About last week?” Portia repeats flatly.
“I just wanted to let you know that my mother deliberately didn’t come to the Oliver’s that afternoon,” Ellen explains. “She didn’t ‘happen to stumble upon an old friend’.”
“I already know that,” Portia hisses. “My mother told me what actually happened. Your mom picked up my mom and told her not to pick up her phone. Your mom hijacked my mom.”
Ellen raises both hands to calm the girl down. “I think ‘hijack’ sounds way too extreme, but I understand what you mean,” she says rapidly.
Portia crosses her arms annoyedly. “My mom also got the impression that your mom wants to see my brothers after Andrew got back from his honeymoon trip. Why is that?”
Ellen frowns. “Well, frankly I don’t know. But I also can feel that my mom is up to something,” she says. “I know that she’s so stubborn— and I bet by now you’ve realized that as well. She has decided to match us up and I’m sure that she’s going to keep on pushing until…. well, you know.”
Portia squints her eyes in suspicion. “Your mom isn’t going to ‘hijack’ my brothers too, is she?”
Ellen laughs dryly. “I have no idea. But I think we can prevent such situations to happen.”
“How?”
Alright, here goes nothing. Perhaps that girl is going to be even angrier, perhaps that girl is going to punch her, perhaps that girl is going to walk out of this room without saying a single word. There are just so many possibilities of what can happen. Ellen musters some courage to face all of them and says, “In order for my mom to stop meddling in our lives, I say we play along with her idea. Just to please her.”
A moment of silence, and then, “What?”
And Ellen wonders how is it possible for that one single, simple word to sound so horribly terrifying.
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