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 anArchitectural 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 hercommanding energy that struck Cierra when they first met — that remained the same.
