Page 21 of Baking Battles

“Uhm, Mattias? Can I have a word?”

Mattias wants to groan a little, having just managed to escape the Tinsel-clad Christmas madness of Studio B for half-an-hour’s peace and quiet in his office up on the Accounting floor. The only thing he wants right now is to bury his head in his hands and eat the chicken salad he grabbed from the canteen, alone. Utterly alone. In peace. Left alone. In the quiet. Still wearing the most ridiculous Christmas jumper known to man, since the episode they are filming today is apparently sponsored by a local clothing chain wanting to sell the cheap nasty ridiculous pieces of clothing that the contestants are being forced to wear. Mattias makes a mental note to never set foot in said clothing chain again. Honestly. Even though Christopher is looking a million dollars wearing something with a crazy multi-coloured reindeer pattern.

Not that Julian knows that, as he walks inside Mattias’s office, still uninvited, closing the door carefully behind him.

“What?” Mattias says, rubbing his eyes and sitting back up straight in his chair.

“Look, I might be completely out of order here, but the lads downstairs were talking and I just thought I need to mention it to you, because there is nothing worse than feeling deliberately left out of something, but none of us knew, otherwise we would have asked you ages ago.”

Julian looks a little bit uncomfortable, squirming slightly in his chair, cocking his head to the side, the way he always does, before he continues.

“We have this TV3-Queer support group on a Tuesday evening. Just a thing where we go down to Bob’s Pub at Grønland and chill out over a few beers and they do this thing called Cinnamon Roll Tuesdays, where everyone gets a free Cinnamon roll with their beer. Wacky, I know, but people like it. It’s just an opportunity to socialise and let our guard down a bit around some nice friendly people. I mean, it’s not just a bunch of queers. We have a few girls from Social Media who always come, and Bernt and Arne from Technical. It’s just become a thing, you know? Bernt’s son is gay. He’s quite open about it, and says it’s been a huge help hanging around with people who he can talk openly with about things that his son struggles to talk about. Yeah, so anyway. Nobody knew that you were one of us, so we haven’t thought to ask, but hey, now you are out, just turn up. It’s no biggie. That is if you fancy hanging out with a bunch of loons.” Julian rolls his eyes and smiles, and Mattias thinks he might be grimacing wildly while trying to compose himself.

“What exactly have the‘boys downstairs’been saying about me?” Mattias says, trying to act totally calm. Because he is. It’s no big deal. WTF?

“Well, I thought I should have guessed, after you employed Johanne, I mean she always gushes about how you totally accepted that she was transgender without skipping a beat, you just kept asking if she was qualified to work with our systems and could keep a deadline. You are a decent boss, a fair and good person.”

“Johanne is fully qualified in Xero, Kash-Flow, and Quickbooks and has a background in IT support. I would have been mad not to employ her.” Mattias replies dryly.

“You pretty much forced Gunnar to take paternity leave, even though he tried every trick in the book not to. You were pretty much GOD to the people up in Admin after that. They still think Gunnar is a twat, but whatever…”

“Julian.” Mattias’s voice is stern. “You are rambling. I asked a simple question.”

“Yes.” It’s clear Julian is stalling here. Trying to dig himself out of something he shouldn’t have mentioned to start with, even though Mattias does realise he is trying to be kind and inclusive. Traits that Mattias can appreciate.

“What are people saying about me?”

“That you are bisexual and apparently totally open about it down on the studio floor, yet none of us ever knew. I could have totally missed it, of course, in case you at some point told us, but as one of the founders of the TV3-Queer support group, I just want to apologise that I haven’t included you in the mailing list, nor added you to the Social media pages.”

Mattias almost feels relieved, laughing in a way that makes him cough as he tries to gather his brain that is pinballing his thoughts around in the chaotic mess that currently is Mattias Strømme.

“Okay.” He laughs. It’s awkward, but fuck, it could have been worse. He honestly thought Julian was coming to read him the riot act on some missed deadline, or worse, some kind of insider dealing shite he had dug up that made Mattias going as a contestant on this bloody baking show of Danijel’s, cause for Mattias to immediately have to resign in shame and stand trial for embezzlement… or something.

“Look, Julian. It’s nothing I have ever thought I need to explain about myself. I am a private person and I don’t think who I fancy and who I don’t is anyone’s business, but mine. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.” Julian is nodding like a puppet.

“But, I am not ashamed of anything. People are people, in whatever shape or form they take, and as long we are all doing our jobs and being decent human beings, we’re all good. I’m good. I’m still trying to cope with being a single parent.”

To be honest, Mattias is rambling himself, and he knows what he is. He’s not asexual, because he can wank with the best of them if he feels so inclined. He’s definitely not straight. He probably falls somewhere in the pan-demi bracket, but to be honest, he doesn’t really care. Labels are for clothes, he thinks to himself, and kind of laughs at Julian’s still-confused face.

“Add me to the damn mailing list, but I won’t promise to turn up for anything.”

The sheer joy and relief on Julian’s face makes Mattias chuckle. “And email me those estimated cash-flow charts, they should have been done yesterday.”

His life has become a joke. What on earth has he done?

At least he turns out a perfectly set Dronning Maud Pudding, smooth sweet vanilla cream, drizzled with chocolate shards, served in glass jars lined up neatly on his grandmother’s chopping board. She would have been proud. Nodded, with a little smile on her face, at the old-fashioned cloth Christmas napkins he borrowed from the prop cabinet, and the raspberries he found on Paulina’s workbench after she went up to film her presentation. It wasn’t stealing, he definitely intended to give them back after. Well, Herman had popped one of them in his mouth and Isolde had stiffly nodded, and complimented the flavour and texture whilst Mattias squirmed like a trapped fish in a net, trying to avoid staring at Christopher. Bloody Christopher.

Christopher, who won’t look at him. He has been fluffing his lines all day, and he looks a total mess, even Mattias can see that. He can’t have slept at all last night, and his skin looks grey with tiredness.

Not that Mattias has had a chance to speak with him, because Isolde keeps dragging him away whenever Mattias goes anywhere near him.

Alima doesn’t stand a chance, once Danijel shouts, “Cut!” for the afternoon break, as Mattias desperately corners her behind the set, pushing and shoving her towards the break room. She tries to protest, her hands still covered in cream from her spiced cloudberry dessert, that he congratulates her on, rambling on about how she has won the judge’s praise for its innovative presentation in Alima’s mum’s Moroccan glass bowls.

“Mattias.” She says, stopping him in his tracks like always does. “Mattias, Mattias,” She repeats, like she is tasting his name on her tongue, and in a way telling him she is all his. That he now has her undivided attention until life pulls her away again. It usually does. She’s a busy woman.

“Christopher.” He blurts out.Like he could really hide his desperation in finding out what she knows.

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