“Geez, Oren, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine,” he says, waving me off. “It was a long time coming. Especially after the second time I caught her doing a line of coke in the walk-in with one of the busboys. You know how strict Chef has been with the new zero-tolerance policy.”
“Oh, right.” Come to think of it, I do remember thinking it was strange to see her in dry storage a few weeks ago when I’d gone downstairs to refill the salt bin.
“So.” Oren’s tone has softened. “Things are getting pretty serious with this kid, huh?” I open my mouth, intending to deny it, but there’s no use. I can’t deny it anymore, not even to myself. Resigned, I simply nod.
He tugs his beard. “Look, I’m hardly qualified to give anyone relationship advice. I mean, I’m divorced, for Christ’s sake. But I’ve been in the restaurant game for seventeen years and I’ll tell you what I do know. Being a chef and being in a relationship—the two just don’t mix.”
“Oren, I—”
“Just let me finish,” he says, holding up a hand. “I know you want to rise through the ranks, become a sous chef, and one day,maybe even be an executive chef. And you have every right to dream that big. You’re bright, hardworking, dedicated. You have what it takes.
“But I want you to be realistic about exactly what that path will entail. The hours aren’t going to get any better. The commitment it takes to get to the top… it’s inhumane. The sacrifices you’re expected to make, the things you’re expected to give up. You need to surrender every night, every weekend, and I can tell you from experience, there are very few partners, nevertheless celebrities with jam-packed schedules, who are going to be okay with that sort of lifestyle. It cost me my marriage, and I can guarantee you, it’s going to cost you your relationship.”
He takes a deep breath, giving me a long, meaningful stare.
“If you’re not willing to give it everything you have, if you’re not willing to sacrifice your personal life for your professional one, then I can tell you right now, it’s not worth it. You need to ask yourself if this is really what you want.”
Oren’s words are still rolling around my brain when I push through the service doors and head outside toward the subway. Of course working in a restaurant is what I want. How could he even ask me that? It’s a goal I’ve spent years of my life working toward, and I’m not going to just give it up now.
Then again, why shouldn’t I get to have it all? Why should pursuing my career goals mean I can’t also have a relationship? Just because Oren’s marriage failed doesn’t mean that things can’t work out for me and Jake. After all this time, Jake and I have finally found our way back to each other, and I’m not about to let him slip through my fingers again. We’re going to find a way to make it work. We have to.
IT’S A LITTLE AFTER5P.M.when I arrive back at my apartment after my Sunday shift, bleary-eyed and full-body exhausted, palms burning beneath the weight of the three overstuffed bagsof Trader Joe’s groceries I picked up on my way home. Balancing the paper bags between my knees, I start digging through my purse. I’ve just retrieved my keys when I hear a voice call out from behind me.
“Lexi!”
Without thinking, I turn around, shocked to discover I’m surrounded by half a dozen photographers. Flashes erupt all around, and I throw an arm across my forehead to shield my eyes.What in the holy—
“Lexi! How long have you and Jake been an item?”
“Lexi! How does it feel to have inspired a song? Have you ever been an artist’s muse before?”
“Lexi! Are you getting a cut of Jake’s profits?”
I stand there, frozen like a deer in headlights. I’m not sure how much time passes—three seconds? Three hours?—when a set of fingers presses into my arm and a familiar voice cuts through the noise.
“Get out of here, all of you, before I call the police and have them slap you with harassment charges!” Lionel’s face is contorted with anger. My limbs are leaden as he picks up my bags and leads me into the lobby. The door slams shut behind us, drowning out the commotion on the street.
“Are you okay?” Lionel’s eyes are wide with concern.
“Yeah, I think so.” But my heart is thumping against my rib cage. And I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever really be fine again.
“BE STRAIGHT WITH ME.How bad will things be now that we’ve gone public?”
An hour later, I’m sitting in my living room across from Chloe and Ali, whom I summoned for an emergency meeting. After promising to take me on as a pro bono client to help me navigate all PR issues, Chloe has been firing off emails left and right. Ali’scontribution thus far has been taking stealthful sips from the bottle of tequila she swiped from work and scrolling through TMZ “for purposes of research.”
Chloe exchanges a look with Ali.
“I’m not going to lie to you, sweetie. It’s not going to be great.”
I raise my thumb to my mouth, tearing off the edge of the nail with my teeth.
“That’s it? You don’t have anything more profound to share?”
Chloe attempts to offer me a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Look, a lot of people fantasize about dating a celebrity. But the reality is that non-famous partners get the short end of the stick. The press is going to say things about you; most of it will be untrue, and almost all of it will be hurtful. Not to mention the social media trolls. You’re going to have to develop a thick skin. And you’re definitely going to have to go private on Instagram. People can be the worst.”
