The Mixtape

by Cherry, Brittainy

  “Liar.”

  She laughed. “Maybe.” She brushed her hand against the back of her neck and gave me a smile that was soaked in sadness. “I’m still breathing, though, and I’ll call that a win.”

  That seemed so simple, but oddly enough I’d found breathing to be one of the hardest things as of late.

  “All right. Keep breathing. Did you eat breakfast today?” I asked.

  She shifted a little in her seat, which was enough of an answer for me. “I have time before I have to handle this. Let’s get breakfast.”

  “Oliver, I’m fine,” she said warily. I wondered how many times a day humans lied to one another about being okay.

  “Yeah, I know you are. Now come on. Let’s go get breakfast.”

  10

  EMERY

  When morning came, I awakened to my doorbell ringing. My body ached from exhaustion, and my eyes were probably still swollen from the amount of crying I’d taken part in, but still, I was able to get out of bed. Silver lining.

  I headed toward the front door and was shocked to see Oliver standing there when I opened it. He gave me a slight smile that looked more like a frown, and in his hands was a giant houseplant, along with a card.

  “Hi,” he breathed out, making me confused as ever. His eyes were heavy, as if he hadn’t slept much the night prior, either.

  “Hi?” I rubbed my hand up and down my arm, nerves rocking throughout my entire system. “What are you—”

  “I owed you a houseplant,” he said, cutting in. He held the beauty in my direction, along with the card. “Figured I’d toss in a card too.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, but she’s beautiful,” I said, smiling down at the new plant.

  “She?”

  I nodded. “Plants are alive, just like humans.”

  “Do you name them, too?”

  “No, I leave that up to Reese. That one on my coffee table is Bobby Flay. The spiky one in the bathroom is Guy Fieri.”

  He gave me a half grin and nodded but didn’t say anything else. His brows pulled in as he rubbed his hand against his cheek.

  “Is there . . . something else?” I asked, not sure what was keeping him standing in my doorway.

  “No. I mean, yes. I actually heard the news that you lost your job.”

  My mouth fell open as I winced. “Oh. Yeah.”

  “I can’t stop thinking that it’s because of me. So . . .” He scratched at his neck and cleared his throat before raising an eyebrow. “I want to hire you?”

  He said it like a question, as if he wasn’t completely sure of his statement.

  I laughed because clearly, Oliver had lost his mind. The more I laughed, the more bewildered he appeared. “I’m sorry,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Why are you really here?”

  “I mean it, Emery. I want to hire you.”

  “Hire me for what?”

  His brows lowered and he pushed his thumb against his nose. “Well, what do you do?”

  “What do I do?”

  “Yes. Other than bartend.”

  “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

  “You were fired because of me.”

  “Not directly because of you—”

  “I made a scene. You were let go because of me.”

  “It’s okay,” I lied.

  “It’s not.” His guilt didn’t fade away as he looked up toward me and locked his eyes with mine. “I want to fix this mistake. Therefore, I want to hire you for . . . whatever it is you do. Or like to do. Or want to do.”

  I laughed. “Oliver, that really isn’t necessary. You don’t have to—”

  “Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Let me help.”

  “Why is this so important to you?”

  His eyes flashed back to mine, and every ounce of hurting that lived within that man was staring back my way. I didn’t know why it was so important for him to hire me, but I could tell it was deeper than anything he was going to tell me.

  He stood as if he was trying to get his thoughts out. As if his mind was running faster than he could handle. His hands were stuffed into his jeans pockets, making his toned arms flex slightly. His eyes blinked a few times as he took in a deep breath, yet still, no words.

  I nuzzled my bottom lip. “I’m a chef. Well, kind of. I went to culinary school for a few years but had to stop when Reese was born.”

  A flash of hope hit his stare. “You’re a chef.”

  “Using the word loosely, yes.”

  “That’s perfect. I need a chef.”

  I doubted he needed a chef. “You honestly want me to work for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “To . . . cook for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Again, I didn’t finish my culinary degree.”

  His brows knitted as he fell into deep thought. I wondered if he knew how cute he was when he seemed so far away from reality.

  “Does every chef need an education in order to make great meals?” he asked.

  “Well, no, but . . . how do you know if you’d even like what I make?”

  “I’m not picky. I’ll eat anything.”

  “Should I submit a résumé?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want me to do a test run? To make sure that I’m good enough.”

  “Emery.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re good enough.”

  “Oh.” I bit my bottom lip. “I just think there might be someone more qualified.”

  “I don’t want someone more qualified. I want you.”

  When he said that, butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

  Oliver didn’t realize how hard it was for me to simply exist within his space. He was painfully handsome, to the point that whenever he was in close proximity to me, my cheeks felt a flash of heat. He looked so much like his brother, but also different in many ways. Alex was always smiling, from the interviews I’d seen between the two of them. Oliver was always the quiet one, with a somber stare. He didn’t look rude or cold to me, as so many people had stated about him—he simply looked to be in thought. As if his mind was always wandering deeper than the surface level.

  I liked that about him—how he seemed to take everything in before adding his own thoughts.

  Oliver rolled his shoulders back and stood tall. He had to be well over six two, because when I stood beside him, I felt extremely small in my five-six frame.

  He flicked his finger against his neck a few times. “It’s a five-day-a-week position. You can have weekends off, of course, unless there’s some kind of event. I know you’re a mother, and those responsibilities always come first. Therefore, if there is any kind of conflict, we’ll shift. The position pays a hundred and fifty thousand a year, and—”

  “What?” I gasped.

  Surely he couldn’t have been serious. Was he drunk again?

  He repeated the number, and I was certain I’d become Alice and I’d fallen deep down the rabbit’s hole.

  “Are you serious?” I asked.

  “What would make you think I was joking?”

  “Uh, the one hundred and fifty thousand a year.”

  “Is that not enough? Because we can work to find the right amount.”

  I laughed. “Are you kidding? That’s more than enough. And I just have to prepare some meals for you and stuff?”

  “That’s it.”

  There was no way I could turn down an opportunity like that. That kind of money could change Reese’s and my life forever. I’d be able to provide for my daughter more than I’d ever been able to before. I could get her into a better school next year. We could move to a nicer apartment. I could start saving for her future and putting money toward mine.

  He held his hand out toward me. “Deal?”

  Butterflies fluttered in the pit of my stomach again as I placed my hand against his chilled palm. Was he always so cold? “Deal. When do we start?”

  “Monday. You remember where I live?”

  �
��Yeah, I do.”

  “I’ll add you to the approval list for access to the community. What’s your last name?”

  “Taylor.”

  “Emery Taylor.”

  Him saying my name sounded like a song that I’d wished he’d sing over and over again.

  “In the card is the phone number to my assistant, Kelly. She’ll get you set up with everything before Monday. She’ll also let you know what’s needed. Just give her a call.”

  “Thank you, Oliver. Truly. You just saved me more than you know.”

  He nodded once, and only once. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  He disappeared down the hallway, and then I raced over to my living room window to see him climb into his car. I watched that car until it faded away down the road. After that, I headed to the card he’d left for me, and I gasped when I opened it and saw hundred-dollar bills sitting by a simple note that read: Thanks for the ride—OS.

  There was enough for me to go downstairs to pay Ed the rent. There was enough to get me through the weekend and to have food for Reese to not only eat, but to enjoy.

  I quickly checked in on my sleeping daughter and allowed her to sleep in a little longer so I could rush downstairs to give Ed the rent that was behind. The moment I stepped into his office, he looked up, seemingly fifty million times calmer than he’d been when we’d run into one another the night before.

  “Good morning, Emery,” he said, nodding my way with . . . was that a smile on his face? His desk was a complete mess, and he shuffled through the paperwork in front of him as if he was on a mission to make it neater.

  “Hi, Ed. I just wanted to bring you the rent. I apologize for it being late, but it won’t happen again.”

  “I know it won’t. Oliver Smith handled it for the rest of your lease.”

  I cocked my head. “What?”

  “Oliver Smith . . . you know . . . the Oliver Smith. The one you were running around with yesterday. He showed up a few minutes ago and paid for your rent for the next seven months. He wrote a check for each month. He even signed my notebook.” Ed gleamed, showing me his autographed paper pad. “Cool guy.”

  The oddest thing about life was how something could show up out of nowhere and change everything in a split second of time.

  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.