The Mixtape by Brittainy C. Cherry

11

EMERY

“You can do this, Em. You are a fantastic cook. Sure, you have no personal-chef experience whatsoever, and sure, working for one of the biggest musicians of our time can seem overwhelming, but you raised a kid on your own. You’ve kept her fed. You’re pretty fast on obtaining new techniques. You can do this; you got this,” I muttered to myself over and over again as I drove to Oliver’s for my first day.

I was put into contact with Kelly, who informed me that I should go grocery shopping for the week, and I’d be reimbursed for the charges, so the back of my car was filled with groceries for Oliver. I’d overthought the weekly menu a million times. Heck, I’d written out over ten different menus, with ten different styles of cuisine. It wasn’t every day you prepared meals for a celebrity.

Also in the back seat of the car was my knife roll I still had from culinary school. Why? I had no clue. It just felt weird to show up to the job empty handed, even though I was sure he had top-of-the-line knives already. I had to admit, it felt nice carrying my knives again. I’d missed using them as much as I had when I was in school.

Needless to say, I had a big job to take on, but the outcome of it would be worth it. Not only was I being given the opportunity to work for a celebrity, but I was also being given the chance to give Reese a better life—a life that she deserved.

We’d have enough money to move to a different state—a cheaper state—with more opportunities. Maybe I’d even go back to school and finish my degree and start my own restaurant someday. Maybe I’d be able to enroll Reese into a private school. Or put her in gymnastics, or theater arts. The possibilities were endless.

As I pulled up to the gated community, I gave my name to Steven at the gate. He opened the gates for me, and I drove straight to Oliver’s home. It was even more beautiful than I remembered. That morning, a team of people was doing yard work to keep the property in top-notch shape. They were trimming the bushes that, to me, already looked perfect and watering the fully blossomed flowers that were vibrant shades of yellows and reds.

I wondered how many people it took to keep a house that size up to par. I could hardly keep my small apartment clean for a day. I wouldn’t even know what to do with a property the size of Oliver’s home.

I approached the front door and took a moment to catch my breath before I wiped my sweaty palms against my smoothed-back hair. After I rang the doorbell and waited a few moments, the front door swung open, and a beautiful woman stood tall in her heels. “Hi! You must be Emery. I’m Kelly. We talked on the phone. Come on in,” she said, opening the door wider.

Taking the first step into his mansion felt surreal. My whole apartment was the size of Oliver’s living room, if not smaller. A huge crystal chandelier sparkled in the foyer, creating specks of light that danced across the room from the beams of sunlight coming into the space. The house was well lit with natural light due to all the floor-to-ceiling windows. To the right of me was a spiral staircase made of wooden beams, and my mind couldn’t stop imagining where that staircase led to. The floors were made of a natural wood, too, and seemed polished to a T.

I was glad I didn’t tell Oliver I was a housekeeper, because keeping a home that size would’ve been the death of me.

“It’s a beautiful home,” I said, glancing around in awe. It looked as if I’d stepped straight into a home-decor magazine. Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Everything was perfectly in place. A clear sign that Oliver didn’t have children.

“Isn’t it? Wait until you see all of it.” She smiled. There was something so kind about Kelly’s spirit. She seemed extremely welcoming, which made my nerves somewhat falter. She led me to the living room—the living room with white furniture. I couldn’t ever imagine such a thing. Reese would have Cheeto dust and Play-Doh all over it in a heartbeat.

“So, it’s my job to get you all squared away with your tasks and paperwork that needs to be filled out. I’ll show you around the property, too, one of our last stops being the kitchen, which will be your playground.”

Kelly was more than willing to take her time with explaining all the ins and outs of being a personal chef for Oliver. She went over how he’d need three meals a day, but dinner could be early so I could pick up Reese from camp. She told me that my spending for groceries was unlimited, and I’d be reimbursed for whatever I spent. Lastly, she informed me that if Reese ever needed to tag along for the day, that was fine, by all means.

“Oliver wanted me to make that very clear to you. He said you’re a single mom, and he never wants you to feel as if you have to leave your daughter somewhere else during the day. He even offered getting a nanny for her while you’re both here too. So that’s an option.”

He wanted to get help for the help?

Kelly smiled at my somewhat stunned expression. “He wants you to be as comfortable as possible. Which brings me to my next point.” She pulled out a check and handed it over to me. “Your first paycheck.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t done anything yet,” I said, stunned by the amount written on that piece of paper.

“It’s a hiring bonus. To help get things going before you’re paid in two weeks.”

Five thousand dollars.

Simply because.

I didn’t want to look like an emotional wreck, but man, did I want to burst into tears and cry. “I can’t take that.”

“Oh, you can, and you must. Otherwise I won’t hear the end of it about how I didn’t do my job. So, help a girl out,” she jested.

“Thank you. This is just . . . thank you.”

Kelly smiled. “I’m glad I could pass on the news, but trust me, it’s all Oliver.”

When we finished a lot of the main tasks that needed to be covered, plus NDAs and contracts, Kelly sat down with me on the sofa and gave me a halfway grin. “I’m going to say this now, just so you go into this situation with an open mind and heart. Oliver’s a bit different than he used to be. He’s always been a bit of an introvert, but now, after . . .” She took a breath and blinked away the emotions sitting at the back of her eyes. “Some days he walks around as if he’s so far away from reality. If he has his headphones on, he’s probably working through some of his emotions. If he walks into a room and ignores you, or if he comes off as cold or rude, don’t take it personally. He’s just trying his best, day in and day out, to be okay.”

“I understand.”

“Also, Cam might be lingering around in the mornings before she takes off for her day.”

“Cam? As in Cam Jones?” I breathed out, stars in my eyes. “Really?”

Kelly didn’t seem as impressed. “Yes. Really.”

“Oh my gosh. I’m such a fan!”

Cam always seemed like the sweetest person whenever she did an interview. She was the only reason I’d even listened to country music. I couldn’t wait to meet her in person.

“I can’t wait to meet her!” I exclaimed.

Kelly cocked an eyebrow and parted her lips as if she had her own thoughts on the subject, but she shook her head and pushed out a smile. “Yeah. Totally. Also,” she said, shifting the topic, “don’t mind the covered mirrors throughout the house. Oliver’s working through some things. If you have to use a mirror, say in the bathroom or something, just make sure to re-cover it before you leave, please.”

Celebrities and their odd quirks.

Kelly proceeded to give me a tour of the property, starting outside. She showed me the tennis court and an insanely beautiful swimming pool outside, with an attached hot tub, of course. There was a grilling station and an area for entertaining with a stereo system, lounge chairs, and a firepit. If Reese were with me, she’d probably think we were at Disneyland or something. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Prince Charming came from behind the bushes for a photo op.

Kelly showed me all the rooms in the house, including Oliver’s bedroom suite. The teenage version of me would’ve freaked out at the idea of seeing Oliver Smith’s bedroom. The grown-up version of me tried my best to keep my cool.

Then, there was the kitchen.

The kitchen was made for masterpiece meals. Not a tool was missing from the cabinets. There were even some gadgets that I was certain I’d have to google to figure out how to use. “What are the guidelines on meals?” I asked as my fingers ran across the marble countertops.

“Oh, you can cook anything and everything. He has no allergies at all, so everything is fair game. Trust me, he’s very laid back.”

The last space she took me to was the west wing of the house, where Oliver’s studio was located. As we walked down the hallways, we passed glass windows looking into the studio space. At first, I assumed he wasn’t in the room, since he was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, he’s hard at work,” Kelly commented, making me raise an eyebrow. She then pointed to the floor, where Oliver was lying down with crumpled-up pieces of paper surrounding him. His headphones were set against his ears, and he had a grumpy look on his face.

“Sometimes he’ll stay in here all day, so don’t be afraid to interrupt him and get him to eat something. It’s more than okay to do that,” Kelly explained.

I stared at the artist lying on the floor, and a small smile fell against my lips. I wondered if that was how he lay when he wrote my favorite song, “Heart Stamps.” Was he spread out on the floor with crumpled pieces of his mind scattered at his sides? Did he close his eyes and move his lips as he mouthed something to himself? Did he cover his eyes with the palms of his hands and tap his feet?

I wondered what his next creation would be.

I wondered if I’d love it too.

After getting a tour of the house, I unloaded all the groceries and filled up the refrigerator pretty quickly. I had a few hours until lunchtime, so I started chopping up some vegetables that I’d be able to use throughout the week.

A few minutes passed before Oliver appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with his headphones on. I looked up from my cutting board and smiled his way. When his stare found mine, he seemed a bit startled.

“Emery. Hello,” he said, formal as ever. He removed his headphones and let them sit around his neck. “Kelly got you settled in?”

“Yes. I’m getting used to the beautiful space. Honestly, I’d kill for a kitchen like this. It’s so open, and the appliances are out-of-this-world fantastic.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased.”

“I am.” The nerves that I’d often felt around him began to build up again. “Can I make you anything? A smoothie? A snack?”

“No. I was coming for water, that’s all. I’ll be out of your hair,” he said, moving around me to the fridge to grab himself a bottle of water.

“There is something else I wanted to talk to you about, though, if that’s okay,” I started.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Is everything not okay?”

“No. It is. I mean, it isn’t. What I mean is . . .” I walked over to my purse and pulled out the check that Kelly had given me. “I can’t take this.”

“It’s a starting bonus.”

“No, it’s not. Plus, I found out what you did for my rent, and while I appreciate the gesture, I’d like to pay for that on my own too. So, if you could take those amounts out of my check each week, I’d appreciate it.”

Confusion swirled in his eyes. When he blinked, a flash of regret hit his stare. “I offended you.”

“No. It was really thoughtful, but I can’t accept these kinds of favors. I don’t want anything that I didn’t work for.”

He didn’t say another word, yet he took the check from my hand and then placed his headphones back on. As he began to walk away, he paused and looked back toward me. His lips parted, but no sound came out. He took a deep inhalation and flinched a little as he tried again.

Was it always that hard for him? To gather his thoughts?

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked.

“Anything you’d like.”

“When you make me a meal, can you make enough for Kelly, too?”

“Yes, of course. Not a problem.”

He slid his hands into his pockets and thanked me.

“If there’s anything else you need from me, I’m all ears. Truly, Oliver. I know I’ve said it before, but this job is more than I could’ve dreamed of. Thank you for the opportunity.”

He almost smiled, and I almost loved it.

His full lips parted again to speak, but no words escaped him. Instead, he continued to walk away, leaving me wondering what it was that he’d planned to say.

Later that afternoon, a voice snapped as I was preparing lunch for Oliver.

“Who are you?”

I looked up from the chicken breast I was slicing and smiled at the woman standing in front of me. Cam Jones. The Cam Jones.

Oh my gosh.

I loved Cam Jones.

She looked even more beautiful in person. She was wearing a sports bra, leggings, and a honey-colored wig, and her makeup was done flawlessly. Perfect winged eyeliner, top-notch lipstick. Cam looked like a goddess, and she was standing only a few feet away from me.

I dropped the knife quickly and hurried over to her side, wiping my hands against my apron. “Oh my gosh, hi! You’re Cam Jones. It’s so nice to meet you.” I beamed, holding my hand out toward her for a shake.

She glanced down at my hand and then back up toward me. “And you are?”

“Oh. Right. You asked me that when you came in. I’m Emery, Oliver’s new chef.”

“Chef?” she huffed, narrowing her eyes. “I’ve been asking Oliver to get a chef for years, and he said it was ridiculous. Who have you worked for?”

“Um, well, no one, really. I’ve worked at restaurants and hotel dining rooms in the past, but—”

“You’ve never worked with another celebrity?”

“No.”

“None? Not even a C-list celebrity? Like one of Alec Baldwin’s brothers or something?”

“No . . .”

“Jesus. Where did Oliver find you? On Yelp?”

“Close.” I snickered. “In a bar.”

“You can’t be serious.” I blankly blinked her way and she gasped. “Oh my gosh, you’re serious.” Cam pursed her lips together. “Are you truly a chef?”

“I am. Kind of.”

“Kind of?” She looked at me as if I had a horn growing from my forehead before turning away from me and shouting, “What school did you go to?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly finish my degree. But you know what they say: ‘Does every chef need an education in order to make great meals?’” And by “they” I meant Oliver.

Cam stared, looking horrified. “Yes! They do! Oliver!” she hollered, marching away from me and my extended hand that she never shook. “There’s a strange woman in our house!”