Chapter 16
16
Only that morning, she had woken up naked in the back of her van, having spent the night sleeping with Quinn Blake. Now, she was entering the hotel she had been in only a few nights before, with the aforementioned Quinn Blake, destined to meet and discuss wedding catering with his fiancée. It was a mixed-up state of affairs and she wasn’t relishing sitting with Taylor Ferraro, three sample menus and some food to taste.
George entered the restaurant, carrying the bag full of delights she, Marisa and Helen had made earlier that afternoon, including a brand new main course she had created. It was chicken breast with a cream and garlic sauce and it was gorgeous. If that didn’t impress Taylor then nothing would. It was the tastiest thing she had come up with in a long time.
She saw Taylor immediately. The American was sat at a table near the window, overlooking a fishing lake in the hotel grounds. George had seen the view before, from Quinn’s room. His suite had overlooked it and they had had sex up against the full-length windows, too desperate to get with each other to worry about any paparazzi that might be camped out in the bushes. She hadn’t thought about it at the time, but if there were photographers in the shrubbery, it was likely they would have snapped a perfect picture of her not so perfect arse .
Taylor was wearing a navy-blue dress which skimmed her mid-thigh. She had huge sunglasses on her face that were far too large for her tiny features but again her hair and make-up were flawless. She was like a perfect little Barbie doll, complete with accessories.
George approached the table and put her bag down on the floor. This made Taylor turn away from the view of the lake and greet her.
‘Hello Ms Ferraro, sorry if I’m a bit late; the traffic was terrible,’ George greeted.
‘And it’s raining. It rains a lot here, doesn’t it,’ she replied, indicating the weather outside.
‘Most of the time, actually,’ George said, taking a seat opposite her.
‘OK. So, do you have what I asked for?’ Taylor enquired.
‘Yes, I do. Here are three menus, two buffet style and one for a three-course sit-down meal. As the wedding’s in Spain, I went for a starter of local citrus fruits made into a sorbet with sweet biscuits, followed by chicken breast in a cream and garlic sauce with lemon-infused rice and mixed leaves. For dessert, a chocolate-orange flan with chilli cream. I’ve got a sample of all of those and a selection of the canapés from the other two menus,’ George told her as she began to get both insulated and cool boxes out of her bag.
Taylor let George open the boxes and make a display of the various items for her. The American then picked up a fork and ate the tiniest mouthful of the chicken, sipped at her water and followed it up by taking a small half-teaspoonful of the flan and cream.
George couldn’t tell what she thought from her non-existent expression. Taylor hadn’t spat anything out, but perhaps she would wait until George had gone to do that.
‘Michael’s right,’ she said after she had eaten a bite from two different canapés. ‘It’s very good. ’
‘Thank you,’ George replied, struggling to know whether to feel pleased or terrified.
‘Can you do the date? It’s August 28 th , in La Manga. I’d need you there a week before. I have a bachelorette party I’ll need catering for and you’ll need to get accustomed to the cooking facilities. I have staff; they can assist you,’ Taylor spoke.
‘Actually, I have my own staff. We come as a package,’ George told her.
‘Fine. So can you do the date?’ Taylor queried for the second time.
‘Yes,’ George answered.
‘Good. I’ll get my wedding planner, Pixie, to liaise with you about flights and ordering the ingredients, etcetera,’ Taylor said, standing up and picking up a handbag that was almost as big as a suitcase.
‘Which menu? You didn’t say,’ George spoke, watching her fasten the clasp on the bag and put it over her arm.
‘The three-course, with a vegetarian option too and vegetarian canapés for the bachelorette party. I have to go; I need to see the beautician before my flight,’ she informed.
‘Don’t you want to know my fee?’ George asked.
‘I just want the best. How much that costs is irrelevant. It was good to meet you,’ Taylor spoke and she moved gracefully out of the restaurant, her handbag looking oversized for her stick-like arm.
George watched her go and then looked at the table of food. She hadn’t eaten since the chips she had shared with Quinn in the early hours. She was starving. It seemed a shame to see it go to waste and perhaps having a full stomach would give her the courage to come to terms with the fact she was going to be catering Quinn’s wedding. But then again, she wasn’t sure anything was going to prepare her for that. No, she was being over the top. It was just a fling. A few days in Manchester, probably another woman or two, he would barely remember her name. She needed to focus on her future, the future of Finger Food, not spend time dwelling on someone who was getting married in a month.
She took a mouthful of chicken and put her mobile phone to her ear.
‘Hiya, Finger Food,’ Marisa greeted.
‘I think your boss said on several occasions that it’s supposed to be “Good afternoon, Finger Food”,’ George told her, spooning more food into her mouth.
‘Oh God, the meeting’s over already! Didn’t it go well? Did she eat anything? If she turned you down without eating anything then she’s a sick bitch,’ Marisa rambled on.
‘Better dig out your sunscreen. We’re going to Spain,’ George informed her.
She held the phone away from her ear and waited for her reaction.
As predicted, Marisa let out an ear-splitting scream of excitement and George smiled to herself. If she tried really hard, she could think of it as a holiday. A holiday with a job that was going to make her year, and hopefully lead to lots more lucrative opportunities, catering for the rich and famous. Quinn would have forgotten all about her by the time the wedding arrived. Whether she would forget about him was another matter entirely.