Chapter One. Riley #2
By the time I land in Provincetown, Ashley has sent me a salary offer that added a zero to what I would have asked for, booked me a flight from Provincetown to Paris with a layover at JFK for the coming Monday, and forwarded a list of protein targets and favorite foods of Luna Leya’s so that I can start planning recipes.
I open a fresh tab and google what do I need in a mobile kitchen.
This results in a breakdown of how to build a literal kitchen in a refurbished van.
That can’t be what she meant. These venues have kitchens …
right? Maybe it’s just the equipment I need.
I need to find someone to ask about this.
Despite objectively being in over my head, I don’t feel worried.
Just excited. My mind is buzzing with ideas for what I could make for her.
I can’t believe Luna Leya will be eating my food.
If I can actually go, that is.
When I get off the plane at the tiny airport in Provincetown, my dads are waiting to pick me up, holding hands as they lean against our beat-up tan Honda Accord.
The airport here is along the dunes bike trail, so if I didn’t have so much stuff, I could just bike home, but instead I’m lugging a gigantic checked bag.
When I see my dads, my palms start to sweat so much that the handle keeps slipping out of my grip, and my heart pounds.
I was warring with myself the entire plane ride.
How can I tell them I want to do this? The only thing they’ve asked from me is that I don’t work in a kitchen after college.
They paid for college on that one condition.
I feel like a horrible person because I’m about to disappoint them in a huge way, when I’ve always been the daughter they didn’t have to worry about.
And now they’re going to have to pay for basically one and a half more people to work at You’re My Lobster; they can’t afford that right now. I should just stay.
“Hi, honey,” Nick says as he wraps me in a huge hug before taking my bag.
My other dad, Anthony, hugs me firmly next. “How was it?”
“It was great,” I say. But my tone says it all; even I can hear the imminent tears.
Anthony freezes midway through hefting my bag into the trunk and looks at me. “What happened? Do you need Dad to go lay down the law?”
“My forearms are strong from all the traps I’ve been hauling. New Yorkers have nothing on me.” Nick puts one arm around me protectively as he flexes with the other one.
I laugh despite myself. Nick is the tough guy in their relationship. When I went away to school, he told me if any of the city kids gave me any trouble, he’d be on the next ferry over. “No, no, everything’s fine.” I absolutely hate letting people down.
We all get in the car and Nick starts driving us home. “Whatever it is, you can tell us,” he says firmly. “It can’t be worse than Dad’s drag show debut last year.”
Anthony mock-gasps. “Are you saying I embarrassed you by taking a fall in stilettos?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Nick says with a laugh. “And I’d hardly call three and a half inches stilettos.”
Without warning, my eyes are burning and tears are suddenly streaming down my cheeks.
“I got a job I really wanted,” I choke out.
“I was auditioning to be Luna Leya’s private chef on her European tour.
She watches my videos, apparently. And I know this wasn’t the plan.
I’m supposed to work here one last summer while things are tight, then get some big corporate job.
And I hate even thinking about missing summer here!
But also, I’m really happy I got this job.
” My voice cracks on the word happy, and even though I’m saying it through tears, it’s true.
I’m in absolute disbelief, and I have more emotions than I know what to do with.
Two years ago I didn’t think I’d ever feel happy again, and it’s strange to me that life has moved on and I’m able to keep going and enjoy it again.
Nick pulls into the Herring Cove parking lot sharply and puts the car in park, then swivels.
“Riley … anything but cooking. Anything!” Anthony is silent while I cry harder, and Nick raises his eyebrows at him in disbelief.
“Back me up here. She can be a lawyer, a doctor, marketing, PR—hell, she can be a fucking zookeeper for all I care! Anything but this.”
Anthony purses his lips. “Riley, sweetie. That was the deal. Have you been applying for culinary jobs?”
“No, Dad, they found me!” I wipe snot with shaky hands. “Luna Leya is a fan of me, and she specifically requested that I audition.”
“I knew the videos were a bad idea,” Nick mutters.
Anthony puts a hand on his arm. “Honey. Luna Leya is her favorite singer. And technically, we did say she couldn’t work in a kitchen … as a career. The deal was we’d pay for school if she went into something else as her profession.”
I want to scream that this is my career. But I can see where Anthony’s going with this, so instead I nod. “Just think of this as one last summer before I enter the real world and get my grown-up job. I mean, come on, Dad. It’s Luna Leya!”
Anthony takes both of his hands in his. “Our daughter is sobbing in the back seat, Nick. Liv would—”
“Enough,” Nick says sharply. “Don’t go there.”
I remember Liv squeezing my hand from the floor of the Smith Squad concert, the way we locked eyes and screamed when Luna Leya stepped onstage to open for them.
Our dads spending hours gluing jewels to our cheekbones and braiding our hair before the show.
At Liv’s funeral, I played the song Luna Leya wrote after her own mom passed.
“Fine,” Nick exhales. “Just this one summer. And only because it’s Luna Leya in Europe. Not because you’re becoming a chef. Mark my words, we will make you pay back every penny of the five hundred grand in tuition if you work in a kitchen after this summer.”
Anthony kisses him exuberantly, then turns to me. “Now, Riley, we need to go shopping. Your wardrobe is not going to cut it for Euro summer with a pop star.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. They … they said yes. Reluctantly, yeah, but I’m going on tour. “Are you … are you serious? I can go?”
“Yes,” Nick says bluntly. “Now we should go celebrate before I change my mind.” He puts the car back in drive and we pull out of the parking lot.
“This is going to be the best summer of your life,” Anthony says happily as we drive by the long stretch of ocean.
“You need a break. You’re going to see so many amazing things.
You know, we went to Europe when we were your age.
We had just met, and we went with about twenty dollars to our name and stayed in the most disgusting places.
Of course, you won’t be. You need to show us the itinerary—I bet they put Luna Leya’s team up in the best spots in the city.
And just think, honey: You’re going to meet Luna Leya. Take pictures with her for us.”
Despite his enthusiasm, all I can hear is that it’s just a summer.
While I can’t help but secretly wish this tour could be the start of something bigger.
But I push that out of my mind and force a smile.
“I don’t even know if I’ll meet her. I didn’t meet her at the trial; her manager brought her the food. ”
“Once she tastes your cooking every day? She’ll be begging to meet you,” Anthony declares.
“I need to tell the shack we’re having a send-off party for you on Saturday,” Nick adds gruffly. “We can close at seven.”
Nick takes out his phone and plugs it into the aux, then puts my favorite Luna Leya song on.
“Can’t Catch Me Now” starts playing, and all three of us sing along.
“I am proud of you, you know,” Nick shouts over the chorus as we drive away.
“It’s no surprise to us that your cooking is the best those fancy-pants city people have ever had. ”
I smile at him in the rearview mirror. Maybe this summer can be exactly what I need to get things out of my system, and then I’ll be ready to do something else. I hope so, anyway. Either way, I need to make sure that every meal I cook Luna Leya is the best she’s ever had.