Chapter 2
Z oe let out a sigh as the director stood up and shouted.
“That’s a wrap, people! See you tomorrow.”
“That was great, Zoe!” Nicki, Zoe’s assistant, exclaimed from across the stage.
She hurried towards Zoe, dodging around the crew who were now moving equipment and tidying up the fake kitchen set.
“The car is parked outside and ready to go. I packed up your stuff already.” Nicki was holding a backpack, Zoe’s purse and her coat.
To say Zoe was thankful for Nicki was an understatement.
She was the best assistant she’d ever had, and she’d burned through a lot.
She knew the pace of her life was demanding, but Nicki never seemed to have trouble keeping up.
“You can now leave this fake kitchen behind and go home to your real kitchen.” Nicki was beaming, her almond eyes sparkling behind her trendy gold-framed glasses.
She’d been working for Zoe for three years now, but somehow the novelty of being on set hadn’t worn off for her.
“By the way, where’d they get that bronze tap in the sink? I want the same one for my place.”
“You can probably have this one, actually. Remind me to put in a word with production after we’re done filming next month. They’re looking at changing the whole set for next season.” Zoe rolled her eyes. “Apparently some viewers complained that the kitchen looked too industrial.”
“Industrial? With this many houseplants?” Nicki gestured at the greenery crammed into every spare inch of the otherwise-sleek black furnishings.
Zoe shrugged and nodded.
“So what, they want Zoe to be a sensible rustic housewife with lemon wallpaper behind her and a bookshelf of grandma recipes?”
“Of course they want that. I’m a woman who cooks on TV.” Zoe gritted her teeth. She loved her job, but today was just exhausting. “Sorry Nicki, I’m just very tired and ready to go home.” Zoe rubbed her dark brown eyes.
“No worries Zoe, let’s go.” Nicki handed her her coat - a beautiful plaid coat that Zoe had been gifted directly by the brand. Being on TV had its perks. She put it on and lifted her thick brown hair out of the collar, letting it settle around her shoulders.
“I’m so ready to be home.”
The two women headed out of the studio, leaving the hectic chaos of the filming day behind them.
Zoe sat in the passenger seat of Nicki’s black Fiat 500.
“Nicki, you have my permission to speed and get me home as fast as possible.”
“Then give me a raise so I can get the race car version of the Fiat. Or even better, a Ferrari.”
“I don’t even own a Ferrari. How would I buy you a Ferrari?”
Nicki chuckled as she started the car. “You’re the businesswoman, you figure it out.”
A smile lit up Zoe’s tired face. Nicki really was the best. As the car pulled into traffic, Zoe started focusing on what else she had on her plate for tonight.
As much as she wanted to just curl up with a glass of wine, she knew there was a pile of catering requests in her inbox she couldn’t ignore any longer.
As soon as filming for the season wrapped next month, it would be time for Zoe to start her catering business back up.
It was more long hours and there was usually a lot of travelling on top of that, but Zoe didn’t mind as much - it was satisfying to have real people eat the food she was making.
Usually Nicki took care of all the scheduling, but Zoe had final say on which clients she took, and she couldn’t leave them hanging any longer.
And there was something else niggling at her that was happening tonight…
Didn’t her fiancé, Tom, also have something planned for tonight?
“By the way, Tom called and said he wouldn’t be home tonight after all. He’s still shooting in Edinburgh.” Nicki had somehow read her mind, or at least her reaction.
Zoe sat back, relieved. It would have been fine if he was home, of course.
She loved Tom. But she’d been so looking forward to coming home to a quiet, peaceful house, and the prospect of having to entertain him after the week she’d had was just too much.
Surely no one could blame her for that. She and Tom had a particular kind of relationship.
They’d met on the set of a movie. Tom had been playing a chef, and the production had hired Zoe to teach him how to look credible on-screen.
His easy smile and charm were enough to win Zoe over, and they’d been together for almost three years now.
But Zoe knew that if she only counted the time they’d actually spent together, they’d probably still be just shy of their first anniversary.
Coordinating a relationship around one public and high-powered career was difficult; coordinating around two was nearly impossible.
At first it had been almost comical how Tom’s shooting schedule abroad always seemed to coincide with Zoe’s local events and vice versa, but lately, Tom’s acting had been getting more and more attention, and filming on location was pretty much his default.
Zoe never bothered to check any more if he’d be around before she booked one of her own gigs.
Zoe liked it that way, though. Their lifestyles were very similar.
She’d had to sacrifice so many relationships before due to her schedule.
Tom not only understood, but had his own thing going on too. It took some of the pressure off.
“Alright, we have reached our destination.” Nicki stopped the car in front of an elegant brick house with crisply painted black windows.
“Thanks Nicki.” Zoe yawned. “I still need to go through my agenda and look at my emails.”
Nicki tapped the steering wheel nervously. “Does that mean you still need me around?”
“God no. Please go home. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon.”
“Thanks, boss. See you tomorrow, then!”
Zoe got out of the car and trudged inside.
She shrugged off her coat and boots, then made a beeline for the kitchen.
She wasn’t particularly hungry, but she was desperate for a glass of wine.
She hadn’t eaten a proper dinner in days - the snacking on set was really getting out of hand.
Zoe made a mental note to go running tomorrow morning.
Wine in hand, she sat down on her cream-coloured Scandinavian sofa with her laptop on her knees.
She opened up her calendar and made sure there was nothing pressing coming up.
The only major points besides the filming schedule for the time being were two interviews next week - one for a women’s magazine and the other one for a national news media.
She was good at interviews, but she always hated them.
Good thing Nicki gave her the commercial points she needed to tackle.
Then she had a few dinners and parties - Nicki had already highlighted those where she would be cooking in red and those where she would be attending as a guest in blue.
For now, everything was around London to accommodate filming.
Once the season wrapped, however, catering season would properly begin, and then she’d start taking on engagements further afield.
Those were the ones she needed to start confirming.
She switched to her emails and started scrolling through her “requests” folder.
She took a sip of her wine and started skimming through.
A familiar name stopped Zoe in her tracks.
Yasmine Ayad.
She hadn’t seen that name in years. Zoe opened the email without thinking twice.
“ Hi Zoe!
How are you doing? It’s been a long time!
I’m getting married in two months and was wondering if I could hire your catering service? It will be in the Belgian Ardennes (remember the Ardennes?).
Hope to hear from you!
Yasmine”
Zoe smiled a little. She could almost hear her old friend’s bubbly, slightly francophone accented voice coming through the email.
It felt like a lifetime since they’d seen each other.
The last time she saw her was maybe five years?
Six years ago? It was right before Zoe’s career as a professional chef picked up. When she still had time.
Zoe leaned back, her glass of wine still in her hand.
Her Brussels days had been a riot. She’d picked the place because of the nightlife and cheap beers, but it was the Brusselers she’d met that had made her fall in love with the city.
With a smile on her face, Zoe reread the email.
She would love to cook for Yasmine, especially at her wedding.
Yasmine had been Zoe’s college flatmate during her year abroad in Brussels, and one of her best friends there.
Yasmine had just walked up to her one day at the beginning of the year and asked her if she wanted to move in.
Her former flatmate had just flaked on her and she needed someone who “looked sane and like they would be on time with rent,” and Zoe apparently fit the bill.
Zoe’s own digs had been dodgier and noisier than expected and she hadn’t signed anything yet.
So she’d said yes and neither of them had ever regretted it.
She clicked the reply button, excited to respond to her old friend, but her heart skipped a beat when she saw that there was a post-script.
“ PS: Julie is one of my bridesmaids!”
Julie. Of course she was. She and Yasmine had always been friends, and then when Zoe had come along, they’d clicked instantly. They’d really been inseparable, becoming even closer than with Yasmine.
Then things had fallen apart. Zoe never knew why.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she debated how she should respond.