Chapter Seven
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Cierra was wide-eyed and, for the first time in what felt like a year, optimistic towards her career direction.
Before leaving the dinner party, she’d approached Zelda and Elliot, telling them that Viktor had mentioned their current predicament and how she might help.
Despite her lack of experience with being a private chef, Zelda was intrigued at the mention of Cierra’s Michelin-starred resume, and Elliot looked all too happy to go along with his wife.
They scheduled an interview for that Tuesday, which was in two days.
After making herself some coffee, Cierra headed to Mia’s dining table overlooking Central Park and realized that, if all went well, soon she wouldn’t have this view anymore.
Not daily, that is. And while she’d miss it, she was desperately ready to get on with a new job and the freedom which would come with having her own space.
A notification chimed on her phone, distracting her from the view, and she was shocked to see a message from Julian. It was in response to her apology the previous day.
Julian: Haha no worries, we’ve all been there. How have you been?
She paused, re-reading the message. That’s it? She hadn’t completely blown it?
Cierra: I’ve been good, went to a dinner party last night. It was . . . interesting lol what about you?
Julian: Interesting, huh? I’m alright. Work, catching up on sleep, the usual. You busy today?
She thought about her upcoming interview with the Lawsons, but she had plenty of time to prepare for that.
Cierra: Not really. Have an interview in a couple days, so might do some research later. You?
Julian: That’s great! If you haven’t eaten yet, would you wanna go out and get a bagel? I didn’t realize it until dropping you off, but you’re actually not too far from me. Was on my way and thought of you.
He thought of me? The idea of Julian thinking about her made a flash of heat go to her cheeks. A smile immediately appeared on her face as she typed away at her little screen.
Cierra: Sure. I’m starving.
That was a lie. She was almost never hungry until later in the day, but she didn’t want to seem too excited.
Julian: Cool. Does 30 min give you enough time?
Cierra: That’s perfect, see you soon
In the following half hour, Cierra showered, combed through her mass of hair, and tried on six different outfits in record time. Mia had come out of her bedroom, likely because of the noises coming from the clanking of hangers and pattering of footsteps Cierra had been making.
Mia entered Cierra’s room, bewildered at the sight of bags and shoes and clothes thrown about the room.
“It looks like your wardrobe exploded. What happened in here?”
“Nothing, just getting ready to go out.”
“Going out? On a Sunday? With who?” Mia asked somewhat accusingly. Then, with a huge smile, “That cute guy you were sitting by last night at the party?”
“Who? Oh,” Cierra said, remembering Erik. “No, not him. Besides, I think I’m gonna get a job with his brother.”
“His brother? How do you know that guy’s brother?”
Cierra shook her head, getting confused at the various lines of questioning. “I’m getting bagels with Julian. That’s who I’m going out with. The room is a mess because I couldn’t figure out what to wear.”
“Oh! That’s fun. Very wholesome. Maybe he could spread a little cream cheese—”
“Mia!” Cierra exclaimed.
“You’re no fun,” her friend said with a pout, taking a seat on top of the clothes-covered bed. “Alright, so you’re going out with Julian. Bagels. Got it. But what were you saying about the cute guy’s brother and a job?”
Cierra went to answer, but the ringtone for the apartment alarmed. Mia answered it.
“Yes . . . Yes, she’ll be right down. Uh, huh . . . Yes, thanks, John,” Cierra heard her friend say into the apartment’s security intercom.
“Alright, uh, how do I look?” Cierra asked, smoothing her shirt and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Like a toasted bagel ready to get shmeared,” Mia answered, with a lick of the lips.
“I really can’t with you sometimes,” Cierra teased, before grabbing her bag and hugging her friend goodbye.
“Bye!! Make good choices and be safe!!” Mia called to Cierra as the elevator door closed.
In the lobby, Julian was looking sharp in form-fitting athletic shorts and a crisp white tee. After giving her a hug and starting on their walk to the bagel shop, Julian joked, “You forgot to mention you’re hidden royalty or something.”
“Huh? Oh,” Cierra said, realizing it must have been a shock to pick her up at Mia’s ultra-luxe apartment building. “I’m staying at my friend Mia’s place right now. Remember her? From the night we all met?”
“Oh yeah, I remember her. Never bad to have connections in high places.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Cierra said.
“So, you said you have an interview coming up? What for?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
“Well, it’s actually for something I’ve never done before. At the dinner party last night, I met this woman named Zelda. She’s a cofounder for a fashion app called Sincha? Ever heard of it?”
“Sincha? Hmm, why does that name sound so familiar?”
Cierra shrugged. “It’s a pretty popular app, although most of the users are women. You can rent high-end designer clothing on it. Maybe someone you know has mentioned it?”
Julian nodded. “Yeah, probably something like that.”
“Well, anyway, she’s like, amazing, and is hunting for a private chef for the summer. I’m kinda nervous.”
“How come?”
“Like, what if she thinks I don’t have enough experience.” Or that I’m rushing into whatever I can get and have no idea what I’m doing. “Plus, it’s pretty different from what I was doing before.”
“Well, first of all, you have incredible experience, so I highly doubt that will be an issue. The fact they’re inviting you to their home for an interview says a lot.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“And I don’t see how exposure to people like Zelda and new experiences could be a bad thing. You should be proud you’re trying something different, for real.”
Cierra smiled at Julian, and he winked back. They had arrived at the bagel shop, which now had a line out the door.
“My ex, he never really supported my move into the culinary world. I think he always thought I was just cooking for people.”
“Is that how you feel about it?”
“Well, no. It feels like a lot more than that.”
“What does it feel like?”
Cierra squinted her eyes and took another peek at the line; she had time to marinate on a full answer.
“You know when you’re in the middle of something you love doing, maybe a long conversation with a friend or a night out or you’re playing a sport and you’re just completely immersed in the moment? ”
Julian nodded, “That’s how it feels on my runs sometimes.”
“Yeah, like that. That’s how it feels for me, when I’m in a kitchen exploring and creating with a new recipe.”
Julian looked at her intently. “You really love what you do, don’t you?”
“For better or worse,” she replied, thinking about her current situation.
“Well, I think what you do, and the fact you followed your passion, is incredible. Take it from a corporate sellout,” he said a little tongue-in-cheek, “It’s amazing that you went for it.
And I’m sorry that this ex of yours made you feel any type of insecurity around it, because if anything, it should make you feel proud. ”
Suddenly aware she was entering sad-ex-girlfriend territory again, Cierra snapped out of it. “Ugh, god, I really need to stop bringing him up.”
But Julian just shrugged. “It’s still new. And it’s not like you’re going on about him. Really, don’t sweat it. We’ve all been there.”
By now, they were approaching the counter, and Cierra focused on the massive overhead menu to get her order ready.
“Maybe, sometime soon, I can properly take you out to a nice meal?” Julian asked. “I mean, I know you probably have high standards, but I’m sure I can find somewhere that can impress you.”
Cierra laughed, “That won’t be an issue. I’ll eat just about anything.”
“Great,” Julian said with a grin. “It’s a date.”
Choosing an outfit to wear for her interview with the Lawsons was more stress-inducing than Cierra was expecting.
They had an artsy, luxurious air about them and probably wanted an equally renegade-looking personal chef to match.
Cierra was relatively clean-cut for a New York chef; she didn’t have any Japanese neck tattoos or gauges or flamboyant hair (this was, of course, the Lawsons’ hypothetical private chef she imagined).
Cierra ultimately decided on a baby-pink turtleneck with brown corduroys, but she got so nervous on the way to their apartment that she had developed enormous pit stains, despite the temperate late spring weather.
The gigantic oaks lining her prospective clients’ street were full and green, nearly all the flowers gone, with summer almost in full effect.
When she finally rang the doorbell to the couple’s brownstone, she held back a gasp when Zelda opened the door to what looked like a masterpiece taken out of an Architectural Digest.
“Your place is . . . gorgeous,” Cierra said with awe, but then instantly cringed at her reaction. “Sorry. I mean, hi. Thanks so much for having me.”
“Thanks for making the trip! And yes, thank you,” Zelda said, making a sweeping gesture to the ornate home. “It’s still new to us as well. We’re renting it for the summer.”
The woman of the house was in an oversized white linen shirt and flowing bohemian-looking pants.
She wore glasses and her hair in a clip, looking much more like an affluent middle-aged woman than the Kat Von D lookalike Cierra remembered.
The contrast was almost alarming, that the same woman could give off such a different vibe with a few fashion adjustments.
But her commanding energy that struck Cierra when they first met — that remained the same.