The Mixtape by Brittainy C. Cherry

13

EMERY

As the days moved forward, Cam only became worse. Her sense of entitlement was so insane to me.

“Honestly, it’s embarrassing how bad you are at your job,” Cam remarked one Friday afternoon right before I was about to leave to get Reese from camp. My gosh, I was looking forward to the weekend away from her. “This juice tastes like dirt!”

Well, you did ask me to only put beets and celery in it, but okay.

I pushed out a fake smile. “I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like me to make you another one? Maybe one with apples and watermelon?”

She shivered at the thought. “No. That’s too many carbs. I can’t believe you messed this up. It’s literally two ingredients.”

“I did what you asked me to do.”

“And still, you failed. I swear, it’s hard to find good help these days. I should have Oliver fire you.”

My chest tightened from the threat, but I wasn’t scared. If anything, I was annoyed by her constant threats of having Oliver remove me from my position. She’d been saying it since my first day on the job. Kelly said it was because Cam was intimidated by how beautiful I was, which made no sense to me. She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.

On the outside, at least. Her insides very much resembled the devil.

“Here.” She frowned in disgust, holding the cup out in my direction. “Get rid of this trash.”

Geez. She sure had a Grammy-winner attitude, for never having had a Grammy nomination.

Bite your tongue, Emery. Bite your freaking tongue.

I kept that same fake grin against my lips as I walked in her direction. The moment I reached out to grab said cup, Cam flung the juice in my direction, coating me from head to toe in the red beverage.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted, my voice filling the space. I was never in the nature of snapping, but my gosh, she was pushing all of my buttons.

“Oops, sorry,” she cooed, smiling innocently. “It looks like you’ve made a mess.”

“Me? I didn’t do this!”

“Yes, you did. You spilled it all over you as I tried to hand it off. Truly, you should be more careful. You probably shouldn’t wear a white shirt, either, as a chef. It seems like a messy job.”

The mirth in her face pissed me off that much more. “You’re a, a, a, a—”

She stood to her feet and walked closer to me, standing as tall as she could in her red-bottom heels. “I’m a what?”

“A bitch!” I screeched, my rage boiling over and falling off my tongue.

“What’s going on in here?” Oliver asked, walking into the space to find both Cam and me standing there in the heat of our argument. The juice dripped down my chin as anger forced my whole body to tremble.

“Did you hear that, Oliver?” Cam remarked. “She called me a bitch! Fire her this instant!”

Oliver looked at Cam and then toward me but didn’t say a word.

She marched over to him like a prima donna, pouting. “Did you hear me, Oliver? Fire her.”

Oliver moved in my direction, and my heart started racing faster as a heavy grimace sat on his face. He looked beyond irritated at the situation at hand, and since it was impossible to read his mind, my thoughts began to go to the worst-case scenario. I couldn’t lose my job. Not at the hands of some wannabe superstar.

Fire me because I burned the toast last week, fire me because my casserole came out a bit dry a few days ago, but please, don’t fire me because of her.

That would’ve given Cam too much pleasure—being able to watch my pain.

Oliver’s brows lowered as he studied me and the mess that dripped from my clothing. His frown deepened. He reached for the towel hanging from the oven door, moved closer to me, and began wiping the mess from my face.

“What in the world are you doing?” Cam barked. Barking seemed to be one of her favorite pastimes. “Don’t touch that thing.”

Oliver ignored her and kept his eyes locked with mine. “Do you need a change of clothes?” he softly spoke, his voice low and controlled.

“Please.”

He nodded once and turned to leave the room, and I followed, leaving Cam to throw her tantrum. “Are you kidding me?” she cried out, but Oliver didn’t look back toward her for a second. I didn’t, either. My eyes were focused on him.

He led me to his bedroom and walked to his closet. I stood as still as possible, not wanting to ruin his carpeting. Within moments, he came back with a pair of sweatpants and a plain T-shirt.

“Does this work?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

“You can change in my bathroom.” He opened his mouth to speak more, but no words came, so he shut his lips together.

“What is it?” I asked, wanting to know what it was that was running through his mind.

“Nothing. I mean, well . . .” He took a breath. “Did she do that to you? Throw the drink at you?”

“Yes.”

“Has she been rude to you before today?”

“Since day one.”

The pained expression on his face made me almost frown too. “I’ll speak to her about it.”

“Don’t apologize for her. She’s a grown woman who is responsible for her own choices.”

“Still. You work for me, and she shouldn’t be treating the staff like that.”

“I don’t even understand. Is she like this with everyone? I’ve never done anything to her. I honestly went out of my way to be kind and give her whatever she requested. Like freaking beet juice.” Who drinks beet juice?

“She’s jealous of you.”

“I don’t know why she’d have anything to be jealous about.”

“It’s because you’re a good person,” he softly said. “That makes her uneasy because it highlights her flaws.”

I was stunned by his comment, because it didn’t make any sense to me. “Wait, you know she’s not a good person?” Also, did he just call me a good person?

“Yes.”

“Then why do you put up with her? I see how she treats you. She’s mean, Oliver.”

“She wasn’t always like this,” he confessed. “She used to be different.”

“People sometimes change, and it’s not always for the better.” That was something I’d learned with Sammie. “I know love can make people do crazy things, but—”

“I don’t love her anymore,” he confessed.

Those were the easiest words that’d fallen from Oliver’s mouth since I’d met him. He said it without an ounce of hesitation.

“Then why are you with her? Why would you stay with someone like that?”

His thumb brushed against his nose. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“If she wasn’t here, I’d be alone.”

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

He paused for a moment and fumbled with his hands before sliding them into his pockets. “My mind doesn’t do well when it’s alone.”

I felt that. True, I couldn’t understand the thought completely, but I felt how much he meant it. Oliver Smith feared being alone, because that was the time when his mind spiraled the most. My mind used to do that when Reese was a baby, and I’d be awake late at night while she was sleeping. I’d fall apart and lose myself, but truthfully, it was in those moments when I learned to find myself.

“I’d rather sit in my loneliness than be lonely with someone who doesn’t care for me at all. Are you truly that afraid to sit with your own thoughts?”

He rubbed the back of his neck as he told me his deepest truth. “You don’t know how dark my thoughts can get.”

The Monday after Beetgate, I showed up to Oliver’s house and walked in on him and Cam in a shouting match. Well, Cam was shouting. Oliver was standing calmly in the living room with his arms crossed.

“I swear to you, Oliver, if you don’t get rid of that wannabe chef today, so help me I will make your life a living hell!” she hollered, apparently not noticing that I’d walked in. I stood frozen in place, unsure of what my next steps should’ve been.

Did I turn around and tiptoe out like I hadn’t been seen until the fighting came to a halt?

Before I could even think about leaving, Oliver glanced up and spotted me. I stood as still as possible, as if I were going to become invisible.

“Good morning, Emery,” Oliver said, forcing Cam to whip around and look my way. The hatred that flashed in her eyes was almost intense enough to cut me. Still, I didn’t move. I felt as if any form of movement would’ve given Cam a reason to snap at me.

Instead, she looked back to Oliver, who hadn’t moved, either. She stepped closer to him, took her finger, and poked him hard against the chest. “Do it, or else.”

Oliver didn’t do anything. He brushed his palm against his stubbled chin and looked back toward me. His eyes seemed apologetic, and for a moment I didn’t know why. I didn’t know if I’d just walked into a conversation that was going to lead to my termination.

Oliver cleared his throat and kept his caramel eyes locked with mine. “Emery. Can you . . .” He blinked his eyes closed and took a short breath before looking back at me. “Make me an omelet?”

The pressure in my chest slightly faded as those words escaped his lips.

“Yes. Of course,” I mumbled, nothing more than a whisper.

“Unbelievable,” Cam spit out, shaking her head. “When you get a pair of balls, call me, Oliver. I’m taking a girls’ trip.”

With that, she grabbed her purse from the couch, then marched off in my direction and shoved past me, with her shoulder hitting mine. I stumbled a bit but didn’t fall.

Oliver’s eyes were still on mine. We both opened our mouths to speak but paused when we noticed the other about to talk.

I nervously laughed. “You go ahead.”

“I’m sorry . . . for her.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to apologize for her. I do apologize to you, though, if I caused any trouble. I really don’t want to come between you two. I’m just the chef, after all.”

He narrowed his eyes and looked confused by my words, but he didn’t say anything. He nodded once and spoke again. “I’ll be in my studio. You can bring my breakfast in there.”

“Will do. Any special toppings requests?”

His lips slightly turned up into an almost smile. “Whatever you make is good enough for me.”

My heart did that skipping thing that it had done every now and again around Oliver. He was such a strange individual. He had a way of not saying much but saying so much at the very same time.

“Okay.” I shifted in my shoes as Oliver began to walk away, and without thought I called out to him, finally asking him the question that had been running across my mind each and every day since I’d begun working for him.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for my question, so I took a deep breath and asked, “Are you okay?”

His mouth twitched slightly before he gave me his answer. “No.”