The Mixtape

by Cherry, Brittainy

  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!”

  12

  EMERY

  Oh my gosh.

  I hated Cam Jones.

  It didn’t take long for me to realize that Cam Jones wasn’t the sweetheart I’d seen online. “Cruella de Vil” seemed like a more fitting title for her. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she kicked puppies during her free time. Each day she came to me with an even more bizarre request. When I made her eggs, she’d tell me she didn’t want them scrambled. When I cooked her hard boiled at her request, she’d toss them out and order me to make scrambled.

  Each time she ate my food, she grimaced and only took a few bites. “This is why it’s important to not just hire anyone from the street,” she muttered once, after spitting out my chili-lime chicken salad—which, by the way, was fantastic. She was just too much of a jerk to admit that I’d created something delicious.

  Oliver, on the other hand, devoured every meal I’d created, and he’d compliment me on them in his very few words way. “Fantastic.” “Brilliant.” “Great.” “Seconds?”

  That was a chef’s dream word—“seconds.”

  What bothered me most about Cam wasn’t how she treated me; it was how she treated Oliver. I had thick skin growing up with the parents I had—not much bothered me
, especially from Cam, because it wasn’t personal. It couldn’t have been personal because she didn’t know me. Her hatred and crude remarks said more about her than they did me. Yet with Oliver things were different. They knew each other—at least they should’ve. They’d been together for years.

  He seemed so far removed from her, yet whenever she interacted with him, it was as if she were speaking down to him, as if he was the scum on the bottom of her shoes. She made comments on his appearance, on his vocals, on his talent. She judged the way he drank water, the way he wrote, the way he wrinkled his nose when he seemed displeased. Everything Oliver did, Cam seemed to have a complaint for. I was shocked she didn’t mention the way he breathed as an annoyance.

  Or the way he fiddled with his hands.

  Or the way his eyes looked so lost whenever he blinked.

  Or the way his soul seemed drenched in despair.

  I didn’t know Oliver personally yet, but I did notice all those things. I didn’t find them annoying in the least. All I wanted to do when I saw the lost man in front of me was wrap him in my arms and tell him everything was going to be okay.

  That might’ve been the mothering instinct in me—wanting to protect all the broken souls and let them know that they were loved. That was what I tried to do for Sammie. It didn’t really work out in that situation, so I decided to keep my distance from Oliver.

  Oliver never questioned her rude remarks or judgmental ways. He simply took them on as if he deserved her negative commentary. Or maybe he’d gotten to the point that he tuned her out so well that her comments didn’t affect him. Either way, it wasn’t okay, especially with everything that Oliver had been through over the past few months. If anything, she should’ve been his strength for when he grew overwhelmed.

  She’d belittle him in front of me, too, which felt even more demeaning. Luckily, whenever she felt sassy toward me, it was always just the two of us. Yet a part of me did wonder how Oliver would react if he witnessed it.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked Kelly one afternoon as she sat in the living room, going over some paperwork.

  “Tell you what?”

  “About Cam,” I grumbled, hating that I had to speak her name.

  She stopped her work and looked up with a sparkle in her eyes. “That she’s a terrible human?”

  “Oh my gosh! Yes! You knew?”

  “Oh, absolutely. I just figured I was too sensitive, though, so I kept it to myself. Plus, you seemed so excited to meet her that I didn’t want to kill that dream for you.”

  “Consider the dream killed. She’s evil.”

  “Yeah. She’s not really my favorite person, that’s for sure.”

  “So, she’s really always like this? Flat-out mean? I’m stunned by the way she treats Oliver too. And he just takes it.”

  “The past Oliver would’ve stood up to her for some of her latest comments. I think he’s holding on to a version of her that doesn’t even exist anymore. Plus, now, after losing his brother . . .” Her words faded off again after bringing up Alex. It seemed that every time Kelly mentioned him, a part of her spirit began to crack. “He’s just not fully himself anymore. It’s like he’s not even completely here, so Cam’s comments hardly affect him.”

  “That’s too bad. He shouldn’t have someone making his life harder right now.”

  “Nothing about Cam is making Oliver’s life easier, that’s for sure.”

  “Is she rude to you, too?”

  “All the time. She isn’t nasty to me in front of Oliver, though. She’s not that stupid. Because while Oliver won’t stand up for himself toward her, he will stand up for others. That’s just the person he is. So, Cam is very sneaky with her attacks. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

  Which made her that much more dangerous, in my mind.

  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—”