5. Olivia
Olivia
I don't feel like I belong here yet. In culinary school, our ingredients were sourced from local farms, and we never had to shop for ourselves. But I could see myself coming to places like this with my restaurant and sampling foods I've never tried just to come up with a new menu inspired by them.
I’m cooking for Drake and his ten guests on Friday, so I need to practice at home. Luckily for me, that means I'm cooking a five-course fine dining test meal for myself. It’s a dream come true being in this store with a limitless credit card.
I place an order at the meat counter for wagyu beef and at the seafood counter for a few freshwater lobsters and some scallops. While that's being prepared, I stride through every aisle, analyzing as many ingredients as I can and throwing them in the cart.
Perhaps I am going a little overboard with Drake's card, but he told me to spare no expense. The little devil on my shoulder is having a field day.
I hold my breath at the checkout counter, thankful I’m not using my money because, for the first time in my life, I’ve accumulated a grocery bill with a comma.
My roommate, Callie, is lounging on the couch watching The Real Housewives of Potomac when I walk in with my arms filled with bags.
She jumps up to help, her black curls falling around her face as she bends over and huffs while lugging bags to the kitchen.
“You know you can make multiple trips, right.”
“Nope!” I drop the bags on the floor and take a breather at the kitchen table. “There's no time for cardio when I have work to do.”
“I would hardly call walking to the car cardio,” Callie sighs before heading back to the couch. “Care to tell me how you can afford to shop at Golden Harvest? Do I need to be looking for wanted posters because you robbed a bank for fancy chocolate?”
“What kind of criminal would I be if I confessed so easily?” I start unloading the bags in the kitchen, smiling as I run through the various meals I can prepare. “My boss wants me to cater dinner at his house on Friday. Want to be my taste tester?”
“Why do you even ask? Of course.” Callie laughs. I realize that it's been a few days since I've seen her. Aside from finding out that I got the job and had an awkward run-in with one of Rita's lovers, she and I haven't caught up lately.
Since she started dating Steve, she's been spending more time at his house than ours. That’s another reason I was so desperate for this job.
Any day now, I expect her to tell me she's moving in with him and leaving me to fend for the rent on my own.
We have a lot to catch up on after I finish cooking.
Until then, I am focused on preparing the menu and testing it.
I only graduated from culinary school six months ago, and a lot of the skills I acquired are still fresh in my mind.
But this is one of the first times I haven't had the safety net of an instructor or a mentor.
Everything I do for this dinner is from my mind and created with my hands.
It's a scary thought that I could fail and realize I don't have what it takes to stand out on my own.
Maybe opening a restaurant is too big of a step for me.
Catering dinner for Drake and his rich friends will be an eye-opener. The $5,000 was obviously enticing, but this experience will also help me immensely.
I spend about an hour in the kitchen preparing the mise en place.
One of the first things they teach you in culinary school is the importance of organization when cooking.
Not only will it help make things run smoother, but it takes a lot of the stress out of the process.
When everything is in its place, I start cooking.
On Friday, I plan to make an elegant five-course meal with classic dishes everyone will recognize. I want them to taste the dishes and see how they've been revitalized through my culinary lens. It's going to be fresh and light, but nobody will be leaving Drake's house with an empty stomach.
It takes me two hours to cook everything, and when I'm done, I bring each dish to the dining room table for Callie and me to try.
She eagerly takes a seat and looks at the first plate hungrily, ready to dig in before I hold up a finger to stop her.
She sets down her fork gingerly and watches as I test out my presentation.
“The amuse-bouche is a pan-seared scallop with black truffle foam on a bed of cauliflower-and-lemon puree,” I say, gesturing for her to eat it. She does without hesitation, closing her eyes and moaning while she chews slowly.
“It’s melting in my mouth,” she says when she’s finished her first bite. “I could eat like twenty of these.”
“Well, you're getting one.” I take a bite, savoring the flaky, sweet, savory taste.
“Your boss is lucky to have you,” she says when I clear our first plates and bring out the appetizer: a foie gras torchon with roasted brie and a dreamy fig sauce.
“I figure after the whole towel scandal, it's the least I could do. Plus, he's paying me $5,000 for this,” I say as I prepare to give my second presentation. Before I do, Callie looks up at me with her mouth hanging open.
“Towel scandal? Your boss is Drake Vance?” She watches me closely, her green eyes squinting as she watches me slowly nod.
“So, you know him? I mean, he was obviously kind of everywhere on the news with the towel incident.”
“Yeah, he was. I've worked with his marketing department.
We've made a few ads to send out to companies he can invest with,” Callie says with a hint of disapproval.
“I've never gotten good vibes from him. He hits on countless staff members when he comes in to check on the ads, and that's not even mentioning his myriad scandals.
He's always with a new woman. I mean, how many models and actresses do you need to date before you settle down? It's just sleazy.”
I can't help but think about the other night at Rita's when he didn't even know her name. That doesn't do anything to help his case. Plus, seeing him at work earlier with that woman holding his hand, I see some truth in what she’s saying.
I tell Callie about what happened with Rita, and we laugh about it over the rest of our meal. The conversation transitions to some of her coworkers, and the stories they have from going out with him. He's never called any of them back. He seems like a player, but why wouldn't he be?
After dinner is wrapped up and I've gotten all of Callie's unbiased feedback, I clean up the mess and turn in for the night. I can't help myself as I grab my phone and type “Drake Vance” into Google to see for myself some of the stories Callie shared.
I learn everything I need to know about him professionally. He’s forty-seven, graduated from my dad’s alma mater, the son of some billionaire I’ve never heard of, and he’s dated several celebrities.
His social media accounts are filled with pictures of him at red-carpet events, ribbon-cutting ceremonies, and some of the finest clubs and restaurants in the world.
There aren't many pictures of him with the women Callie mentioned, but I feel that's intentional.
Why would he want anyone to theorize that he's in a relationship when that would impact his dating prospects?
On Google Images, though, I see all the evidence. Pictures of him with some of the most gorgeous women I've ever seen sitting at tables, his arms wrapped around their waists, him kissing their cheeks and necks.
My stomach flutters and a wave of envy rushes over me that’s too strong to ignore.
Sure, he's the most attractive man I've seen, and I might or might not have entertained some fantasies about him.
He's also my boss and a close friend of my father. I’m still a little jealous, wondering what it would be like to be one of the women in the pictures.