The Mixtape

He held his hand out toward me. “Deal?”

Butterflies fluttered in the pit of my stomach again as I placed my hand against his chilled palm. Was he always so cold? “Deal. When do we start?”

“Monday. You remember where I live?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I’ll add you to the approval list for access to the community. What’s your last name?”

“Taylor.”

“Emery Taylor.”

Him saying my name sounded like a song that I’d wished he’d sing over and over again.

“In the card is the phone number to my assistant, Kelly. She’ll get you set up with everything before Monday. She’ll also let you know what’s needed. Just give her a call.”

“Thank you, Oliver. Truly. You just saved me more than you know.”

He nodded once, and only once. “I’ll see you Monday.”

He disappeared down the hallway, and then I raced over to my living room window to see him climb into his car. I watched that car until it faded away down the road. After that, I headed to the card he’d left for me, and I gasped when I opened it and saw hundred-dollar bills sitting by a simple note that read: Thanks for the ride—OS.

There was enough for me to go downstairs to pay Ed the rent. There was enough to get me through the weekend and to have food for Reese to not only eat, but to enjoy.

I quickly checked in on my sleeping daughter and allowed her to sleep in a little longer so I could rush downstairs to give Ed the rent that was behind. The moment I stepped into his office, he looked up, seemingly fifty million times calmer than he’d been when we’d run into one another the night before.

“Good morning, Emery,” he said, nodding my way with . . . was that a smile on his face? His desk was a complete mess, and he shuffled through the paperwork in front of him as if he was on a mission to make it neater.

“Hi, Ed. I just wanted to bring you the rent. I apologize for it being late, but it won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t. Oliver Smith handled it for the rest of your lease.”

I cocked my head. “What?”

“Oliver Smith . . . you know . . . the Oliver Smith. The one you were running around with yesterday. He showed up a few minutes ago and paid for your rent for the next seven months. He wrote a check for each month. He even signed my notebook.” Ed gleamed, showing me his autographed paper pad. “Cool guy.”

The oddest thing about life was how something could show up out of nowhere and change everything in a split second of time.

11

EMERY

“You can do this, Em. You are a fantastic cook. Sure, you have no personal-chef experience whatsoever, and sure, working for one of the biggest musicians of our time can seem overwhelming, but you raised a kid on your own. You’ve kept her fed. You’re pretty fast on obtaining new techniques. You can do this; you got this,” I muttered to myself over and over again as I drove to Oliver’s for my first day.

I was put into contact with Kelly, who informed me that I should go grocery shopping for the week, and I’d be reimbursed for the charges, so the back of my car was filled with groceries for Oliver. I’d overthought the weekly menu a million times. Heck, I’d written out over ten different menus, with ten different styles of cuisine. It wasn’t every day you prepared meals for a celebrity.

Also in the back seat of the car was my knife roll I still had from culinary school. Why? I had no clue. It just felt weird to show up to the job empty handed, even though I was sure he had top-of-the-line knives already. I had to admit, it felt nice carrying my knives again. I’d missed using them as much as I had when I was in school.

Needless to say, I had a big job to take on, but the outcome of it would be worth it. Not only was I being given the opportunity to work for a celebrity, but I was also being given the chance to give Reese a better life—a life that she deserved.

We’d have enough money to move to a different state—a cheaper state—with more opportunities. Maybe I’d even go back to school and finish my degree and start my own restaurant someday. Maybe I’d be able to enroll Reese into a private school. Or put her in gymnastics, or theater arts. The possibilities were endless.

As I pulled up to the gated community, I gave my name to Steven at the gate. He opened the gates for me, and I drove straight to Oliver’s home. It was even more beautiful than I remembered. That morning, a team of people was doing yard work to keep the property in top-notch shape. They were trimming the bushes that, to me, already looked perfect and watering the fully blossomed flowers that were vibrant shades of yellows and reds.