CHAPTER 30
Willa took a few calming breaths as she made her way through the bland hallways of the nice boutique hotel in Seattle. She had finally been able to get a meeting with the chef, Sam, a.k.a. Sexy Chef Sam, to discuss the recipe ideas she’d come up with, get his opinions on them, and figure out what kind of content she could add to imbue the nonrecipe copy with his persona and flavor. She felt a little weird about meeting him in a hotel, but his manager had expressed, via Instagram message of all things, that Sam was already overbooked and that it was apparently a big deal for them to meet at all. She’d gritted her teeth, agreed to keep it to no more than half an hour.
Now, she was outside the door. She knocked, tentatively at first, then with a bit more force.
The door opened to reveal a medium-height white man in a pair of overlarge jeans and a white-and-navy striped shirt. He didn’t look that much younger than her—she’d say late thirties at best, but more likely forties. She supposed he looked stylish, but there was an element of deliberate “I’m totally not trying” that she remembered from her restaurant days. He looked her up and down, not in a sexual way, although there was definitely a sense of assessment.
“Cookbook lady?” he asked without preamble, and when she nodded, he ushered her in impatiently.
“And you are . . . ?”
“Thorn, Sam’s manager,” he responded, looking back at his phone.
She nodded again. He’d been the one who’d messaged her about the meeting, then.
“Sam!” Thorn barked. “Out here!”
She waited for a second, surveying her surroundings. A suite, she noted. Two bedrooms, from the look of it. The living area, with a small conference or dining table, as well as a wet bar with a minifridge and microwave, and the usual flat-screen TV with a couch in front of it. She went to the table, quickly getting out her sketchbook and the photos she’d printed to save time and give a better idea of her work so far.
Sam came out of one of the bedrooms. He was wearing a white T-shirt so highly reflective it was almost blinding over a pair of baggy jeans that slipped down just enough to show the band of what she had to assume was designer underwear. It seemed like she’d seen him without his shirt more than with, so the difference was jarring. That said, he didn’t have that try-hard impression, which she appreciated.
He was horsing around with two other men, who were laughing and joking. One was a very tall Black man, and one was a shorter, pudgier blond man. They all seemed to be friends.
“Dude, you need to come to Seattle more,” the short one wheedled.
“You guys are always working, though,” Sam replied with a smile. “And Dave, aren’t you working on a new project or something? Going to Japan?”
The Black man smiled. “Company’s sending me to talk about designing some displays for one of their advertising partners. Week in Tokyo, you should come with. Billy is even taking time off.”
The shorter guy nudged him. “In Tokyo ! I have always wanted to go to Tokyo!”
Thorn’s eyes lit up. “Now there’s a good idea, Sam. Japan. I want to schedule you for that, by the way. A few parties, some collabs, and there are some content ideas I think we could work on.”
Sam looked startled, like he’d forgotten the man was there. “Um ... yeah. That sounds good!”
Dave and Billy exchanged glances. “C’mon. I’m hungry, let’s get lunch,” Dave said.
Sam grinned, ready to head out.
“Sorry,” Thorn interrupted again, looking stern and not at all sorry. “But I need Sam to do this thing. Then this afternoon, he’s got a few influencers to meet up with, and there’s a party tonight.”
“Ooh, a party?” Billy’s grin was wide. “I totally want to go to a party!”
“It’s very exclusive, I’m afraid.” Door guy’s whole expression said hell no .
Unfortunately, she knew Thorn’s type. He was the money guy, the dealmaker, the fixer. Every project seemed to either have one or need one, and while he was going about it like a cudgel, she could only imagine what it was like to work with something so lightning-in-a-bottle ephemeral as a video-content creator’s career. They seemed to have shorter potential longevity than restaurants, and those could have the life span of mayflies.
Sam looked chastised, and he turned apologetically to the other two. “We’ll definitely catch up tomorrow, if nothing else,” he promised.
They bro-hugged it out and then went out the door. Thorn glared at her.
“Thirty minutes,” he warned her. “We’ve got a full schedule.”
“Of course,” she said in her best placating-the-demanding-customer voice.
After a second of staring, he harrumphed. “I’m going to make some calls,” he said to Sam, then disappeared into the second room, the door closing. She heard his gruff voice rattling away.
“Hi. I’m Sam. I guess we haven’t been properly introduced.” He held out his hand, an almost shy smile on his face, a far cry from the I-am-going-to-seduce-the-fuck-out-of-you mischievous expression he constantly wore in his videos.
Thank God. She didn’t know what she’d do if he was that overt in real life. Probably lose the battle against laughter. The guy was good looking but way too young. Besides, she still couldn’t get over watching him slap that pork belly.
“I’m Willa,” she said, sitting at the table and gesturing for him to do the same as she pulled out her notebook. “Thanks for taking the time. I will try to be brief. I’ve watched your videos, and while it would’ve been easier to have more of a sit-down to discuss the recipes and whatnot prior to this, I understand that you’ve been very busy.”
“Yeah.” He sat, rubbing the back of his neck and grimacing. “Sorry about that.”
Her smile was easier. Somehow, it reminded her of Kimber or Jeremy. “Really, it’s fine,” she said. “Let’s talk about what I’ve come up with, all right? This way you can give your insights—anything you like, anything you hate. And I’m going to ask you some questions about yourself and the kind of personal content you want to include around the recipes. Once we come up with a complete list, I may email you for some additional little details I can include and a writing sample so I can mimic your voice.”
She walked him through what she’d come up with. Thankfully, he was a perfect collaborator. He was impressed, maybe even a little intimidated, by her knowledge, and he made notes on his phone for things he’d want to try later. He even asked her tentatively if he could email her after the book was done for test ideas and questions. While it was outside the scope of her work, she agreed because, again, he reminded her of the twins. He was sweet and earnest, and she appreciated that.
The half hour was coming up fast. “I’ll see what I can work with here,” she said, gathering up her notes. She felt more confident, even though that deadline was heading at her like an oncoming train. She noticed him looking hesitant. “What? Is something the matter?”
“Do you think this cookbook’s going to work?” he asked quietly.
She felt her stomach drop. This was a hell of a time for him to think about backing out. “Do you not want a cookbook?” she asked.
“No! It’s not that.” He glanced at the closed door where Thorn had disappeared. “I wasn’t even supposed to be doing all this, you know?”
She blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“I was working as a barista at a café in San Francisco,” he said. “I’d just graduated from the arts college with a degree in graphic design. The photography and video editing were just for fun, stuff I goofed around with. I started these videos as a joke , for a girl I was dating.”
“Wow.”
“They were public, but I really ... I mean, how was I supposed to know the algorithm was going to pick it up like that?” He laughed nervously, running a hand through his dark wavy hair. Rather than looking frazzled, it did that perfect tousle. Good lord, the man truly does wake up like this. “Anyway, I did a few more for laughs, just to see. The whole thing kinda snowballed. Girlfriend dumped me because she didn’t like all the attention I was getting. Especially the comments women were making, like they wanted me to eat them , stuff like that.”
She cringed on his behalf. The internet had created anonymous animals out of people, and the fact that they saw these fictionalized versions of real humans made them think that they could say anything, do anything, and have no regret for it. “Sorry.”
He waved a hand. “I mean, it hurt, but it was like a year ago, and ... well. Thorn came up to me and said he could work with me and I could make a lot of money, and the dude was not kidding .” Sam sighed. “But ... I need to be ‘on brand’ more. He’s really pushing the sexy thing. So I’ve got to get this right.”
She felt a little ache in her chest at just how close that sentiment hit.
“The audience is easily bored too,” he said. “Thorn’s always saying that.”
“He’s not wrong.” She hesitated, then nodded firmly. “Don’t worry. This will be plenty sexy, fit right in with your brand. It may not seem that way, but I am confident it will come off that way.”
He snickered, and she rolled her eyes.
“Grow up,” she warned, “or I will throw a slipper at you.”
He laughed. “A slipper? Why?”
“It’s an Asian thing ... never mind.” She smiled at him, shaking her head a little, feeling both amused and protective. “Your whole vibe is sexy to near absurdity. There’s a playful quality.”
“Thorn thinks that subtlety is overrated,” Sam said, sounding defeated.
“Well, you can be overt but still fun.” She started sketching possible dishes after doing a quick sketch of his smirk, his hair, those twinkling eyes in the corner. The cartoony Sam held out a dish. “We can do some things in the main, maybe, that are funny, almost silly, like your videos. You’re trying for seductive, but you’re also not taking yourself too seriously. Hmm. Big meat. Um ... big heat?” She frowned. “Feel like we need a third thing to complete that. Something else big.”
Sam laughed again, wiggling his eyebrows. “Well ...”
“Eh! Think of me as your auntie who has known you since you were little and who will not put up with your silliness,” she scolded playfully, making him crack up some more. “I sincerely doubt your publisher’s going to want a picture of your hot dog. Besides, it’d technically go under meat, anyway.”
By the time they were done, she had a complete recipe list, and he promised he’d answer her email with more personal details. It was more than she could’ve hoped for. They’d even talked about how he could film some of the recipes. Not in their entirety, obviously—he’d want to keep the bulk for the book itself—but as teasers and trailers.
“That would be great,” he said. “You should come to LA and film with me sometime—”
“Are you kidding?” Thorn yelped. They both flinched as the man came out, phone in hand but obviously shut off. He looked fierce. “Honestly, I didn’t want you two meeting at all. It’s just not necessary.”
Sam glared at Thorn. “Man, you’re being kind of a dick.”
“What do I keep telling you?” Thorn didn’t seem to mind the accusation. “This crowd is fickle, and all of them have a parasocial relationship with you. They want to believe you’re real ... and in a lot of ways, they don’t care if you are , as long as you don’t burst the bubble. Same reason why I’ve told you it’s better to either stay single or keep a relationship hidden.”
“Like a K-pop idol,” she mused. Thorn finally looked at her.
“You get it,” he said, although it was grudging. “The thing here? They want to believe that he’s totally self-taught—”
“But I am!” Sam protested.
“But also a kick-ass gourmet chef. With a six-pack and a fuck-me grin,” Thorn said. “If they find out a middle-aged woman wrote your cookbook for you, they’re going to feel betrayed.” He paused, then glanced at her. “No offense,” he muttered.
She shrugged. “None taken. It’s the business.”
Sam, on the other hand, looked horrified.
“You have what you need?” Thorn said. “Because I’ve got to get this guy to a photo shoot with a few partying influencers on a boat in the sound, on one of the few days we don’t have shitty overcast skies. Then you’ve got that party tonight at the Space Needle.”
Sam looked defiant for a second, then deflated, nodding. “All right.”
“Don’t worry,” she said to Thorn but also to Sam. “I’ve worked with top culinary chefs before, completely anonymously. I know how to stick to an NDA.”
“You better hope so,” Thorn said ... again, both to her and to Sam. “Because this whole thing hinges on him being the real deal, so we can’t fuck this up.”
She closed her sketchbook and headed out the door. She liked Sam more than she would’ve thought, given the sheer goofy aspect of his videos and what she was expected to do. Now, she just hoped they’d get through the project without a hitch.
The sooner she got this done, the sooner she got paid. She got the feeling Sam would understand that perfectly.