Chapter 2
Georgia
“Is it in yet?” the lady from a week ago taps her perfectly red painted nail against the glass counter. “Because I’ve been calling and checking every single day, and not a single person will answer me.”
I let out a sigh, trying to keep my professional smile on my face. “Well, if they weren’t able to tell you anything on the phone, then I won’t be able to either. It’s still not in, and I doubt—”
“This is so ridiculous,” she cuts me off, spewing a spray of spit that lands on my face. “I don’t understand why you people don’t know how to do your job. The entire line is supposed to be a Macy’s exclusive.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, my smile faltering. “Maybe there’s a different line that might be pique your interest?”
She narrows her eyes. “You just want me to spend money, so you’ll get commission.”
“I actually don’t get commission.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Whatever.” With that, she spins around and storms off toward one of the exits. I breathe out a half groan, half sigh of relief as soon as I’m certain she’s not in earshot.
Good riddance, lady. It’s time for my break.
I grab my phone from behind the counter and give my manager a nod, who barely even acknowledges it. I’m pretty sure Rhonda, the manager of my department, barely even knows that I exist at all. She only pays attention to the employees who cause problems.
I tap my phone screen as I make my way to the break room, surprised to see a missed call and voicemail.
From Brody.
I swallow hard and slip into the lounge, relieved that it’s completely empty. I plop down on one of the couches and hit the play button on the voicemail.
“Hey, Georgie, it’s Brody. I was just calling to see if you were still interested in the position for the yacht trip. I really need a chef, and the pay is two-hundred grand for the month. I’m pretty desperate. I swear I’ll make it worth your time. We leave in two days.”
I bite down on my lip, my heart jumping out of my chest.
Two hundred thousand dollars?
That’s enough to potentially change my entire life. I could maybe even invest some into opening up my own café. But also… can I even handle being a chef on a yacht? What does that even entail?
Before I can call Brody back to ask, my screen lights up with another call. Daisy. She knows this is my usual break time, even though she’s now living in Maine with her new husband. I immediately answer.
“Hey,” I breathe out. “I miss you so much.”
“I take it Lily is still driving you insane,” her sweet, soft voice comes over the line. “You know, you could always find a new roommate.”
“Yeah, she’s fine,” I say quickly. “I have a way bigger problem though.”
“Oh?” Daisy’s pitch heightens. “What’s that?”
“Well, my dad’s best friend—you know, the hot one from back when we were sixteen?”
She gasps. “Oh my god! Brody Wilder? I completely forgot about him. What’s wrong? Did he die?”
“What? No,” I shake my head. “He didn’t die. He’s not that old.”
“People die every day, Georgia.”
I roll my eyes. “I cannot with you.”
She chuckles. “Well, you said you had a problem.”
“I do,” I groan. “He offered me a job to be his chef on his month-long yacht cruise thing.” I stumble over my words, having no idea how to describe an event that I’m sure only happens to the upper one percent of the population.
“Um, and this is a problem because… why?”
“Because I have no idea how to be a chef on a yacht. That sounds like something way out of my wheelhouse. I mean, I haven’t really cooked for anyone other than myself in—”
“Georgia,” Daisy stops me. “You’re underestimating yourself, just like always.
You’re going to be cooking food, which you happen to do better than anyone I know.
You’ve totally got this. Besides, I’m sure it’s not like they’re going to expect five-course meals three times a day.
It’s sailing. Make your menu before you go, and I’m sure you have enough time to practice a little. ”
“I can’t get enough practice done in just two days,” I blurt out, running a hand down my face. I probably just fucked up my makeup, but whatever.
“Okay, so it’s short notice…” Daisy’s voice trails off. “But not the end of the world. Can you get time off from work?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble. “I doubt it. I don’t think it’d matter though.” I take a deep breath and drop the biggest bombshell about the whole thing. “I’d get paid two hundred grand.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Did I just hear you correctly?”
“Yes, you did. It’s life-altering money. Maybe not for a billionaire like Brody, but for someone like me? Absolutely.”
“I don’t even know why you’re telling me this a problem at all,” Daisy laughs. “You need to take that job, work your ass off, and then you get a completely fresh start. This is like your big break.”
“But my job here…”
“Quit the job, Georgia. You hate working there anyway. You can look for a different job when you get home.”
Clutching my phone to my ear, I start to pick at the hem of my sweater, a wave of nerves flooding my system. “I don’t know.”
“You’re letting your fear of fucking it up get in the way,” Daisy presses me. “You need to tell Brody you’re taking the job, then go tell your manager that you’re done.”
“I doubt she’ll even hear me,” I mumble, more to myself than Daisy.
“Do it, Georgia. Do it for yourself. You deserve this, girl. Clearly, Brody agrees.”
“Or he just really needs a chef.”
“Maybe? But who even cares?” Daisy giggles. “You’re going to be the chef on a crazy luxurious yacht cruise. That looks phenomenal on your resume. Just think what you could do with that. Especially with Brody Wilder as a reference.”
She’s right. Just that fact alone, without the money, makes it worth it. I know he has pull in the city, and probably beyond it as well.
“Okay,” I breathe out the word, my voice shaking slightly with excitement. “Then I need to call him before my break is over. I only have two days before the boat leaves.”
“Then get to it!” She hangs up before I can respond.
I pull the phone away from my ear and see a text from Brody.
Brody: Hey, I know I sound desperate. That’s because I am.
I laugh at the message, my stomach fluttering like it’s full of butterflies on speed. I hit the call option beside the message, listening as it starts to ring.
I got this. Just be professional.
“Hey,” Brody answers, his voice bright. “I take it I’ve bugged you enough for you to respond?”
“Something like that,” I snort, but then straighten myself up.
“I just had a couple of questions. Well, one, really. What kind of food am I supposed to make for this trip? I haven’t cooked for anyone other than myself in a while, and you’re offering a lot…
” I wince, realizing I don’t sound professional at all—I’m basically making myself seem unqualified.
Maybe I’ll just end up staying right here at Macy’s.
Brody chuckles, his deep voice rattling something in my chest. “Actually, the whole kitchen is already stocked and ready to go. We’re not a big crowd and tend to be pretty practical. I have a bunch of recipes the chef was going to use.”
“Okay,” I sigh in relief. “I can totally do that.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you can.” I can hear the smirk in his voice. “Does this mean you’re in? Because at this point, if you turn me down, I’m making everyone peanut butter and jelly sandwiches three times a day.”
I giggle, unable to hold it in. “Um, well, if that’s what I’m up against, then I’m definitely in.”
“Good, because I’d much rather have you in the kitchen than me,” he teases. “We leave in two days, so how about I pick you up on Sunday at four? We’re setting out that evening.”
I nod, my hands already sweating with nerves. “Okay, yeah. That works.”
“Fantastic, I’ll see you then.”
“See you,” I say, just as the line clicks. I drop the phone to my lap for a few moments, and then realize I totally didn’t even ask what I should pack.
Oh my god. I consider picking my phone back up to call and ask when the break room door swings open. In walks Rhonda, who I assume is going on her own break.
“Miss Blake?”
Uh oh. I hurriedly stand to my feet. “Yes?”
“Your break was over nearly ten minutes ago,” she snaps. “Why are you not back out on the floor yet?”
“I had to take a really important phone call,” I say quickly. “I’m so sorry, but… actually, I need to talk to you about my schedule—”
“Your schedule is emailed to you, just like always.”
“I understand that, but—”
“If you need to switch shifts, you’ll have to find someone else who is available to do so.”
“Yes, but see—”
“You need to get back out there,” she interrupts again, which suddenly has my chest tight with frustration.
“Actually, I’m quitting,” I blurt out the words with way more confidence than normal. “I got a new job, and I start in two days, so I guess you can consider this me letting you know.”
“You’re not quitting in the middle of your shift,” she sneers at me, her beady eyes narrowing at me beneath her gray hair, still stuck in an 80s style. “You’re going to get back out there and—”
“No, actually I’m not,” I cut her off, just like she did to me. “I’m going to do exactly what I just said I was, and I’m leaving right now. I’m too tired for this, and I have a lot of packing to do.”
“Then get your things and get out of here,” she snaps at me, and I just ignore her, letting her storm out of the break room in a tantrum.
I wait until the door is completely closed behind her before I gather my things and thank the Universe that I’m getting the fuck out of here.
I am never coming to this place ever again.
“So this is exciting,” Lily hovers in my room, as I shove my bikini top into the bag. Honestly, I have no idea if I’ll ever have a chance to wear it on the cruise, but I pack it just in case. “He’ll be here in like ten minutes to pick you up.”
“I know,” I shut the top of my suitcase. “And I still have no idea what I’m doing.”