‘What’s wrong?’ Lou asks down the line. She sounds worried.
‘Where are you? Can you come to west London? Like, now? Immediately? How quickly could you get here?’
I can practically hear her bafflement. ‘What? What are you talking about?’ Actually, she sounds half asleep. Bloody actors. Half the day’s gone.
Oh great, on top of everything, I’m now my dad.
‘Look, I borrowed my mum’s car for my interview today—’ I begin.
‘Why?’ she interrupts and I reply impatiently.
‘I thought it would make me look more professional! More hireable, y’know? More like a grown-up.’
‘Oh crap.’ The realization dawns on Lou. ‘You’ve got your second interview for that fancy new restaurant, A’Diva, this morning, right? How did it go?’
‘It hasn’tgone,’ I hiss, glancing down at the problem. ‘I’m trapped and I’m late.’ She doesn’t reply, so I carry on frantically. ‘I bought a pencil skirt because the model in the advert looked so powerful and cool, and I wanted to impress Carl Hurst.’ I pause, because IknewLou wasn’t listening when I told her about Carl Hurst. ‘The head chef?’ I say into her silence, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. ‘He’s a huge fucking deal in the food world, Louise, and I’ve wanted to work for him ever since I started cooking. This was supposed to be my chance! I wanted to look like a sexy, capable woman, but this fucking pencil skirt is like wearing a corset around my legs. I thought the difficult part was gettinginthe car, but getting out was like trying to wiggle through an obstacle course backwards.’ I sigh heavily. ‘Basically, I fell out of the door, which launched the keys across the car park, and the door slammed shut and locked behind me – ontothe back of my skirt.’ My voice rises an octave. ‘I’m fucking trapped, Lou! I’m attached to the car! I’ve tried pulling my skirt out but it’s stuck fast. In fact, I think the zipper is on the inside of the door, which means the only way out is to rip off the whole back of my skirt. I can’t even fully reach around because it’s so tight and there’s no way in hell I can reach the keys. I’m trapped. And my interview was meant to start five minutes ago!’
Down the phone, Lou makes a noise that I could swear was her trying not to laugh – except that would make her a total cow so it can’t have been that.
‘Lou?’ I sound desperate. ‘Can you help? Can you come?’
After more noises on the line, she finally replies. ‘Can’t you just ask someone passing by to hand you the keys?’ she says at last in a strangled voice.
‘I’m too embarrassed!’ I wail. ‘And only one person has come by in fifteen minutes anyway. This is so mortifying!’ I cover my face, trying to reach around to the back of my skirt for another yank. Why don’t I do more yoga? I’m sure I could’ve reached around properly if I did yoga. ‘This was my big chance, Lou!’ I tell her again, squeaking through my hands. ‘I was finally going to have a proper chef job! No more cooking pasta for people who couldn’t get into the Bella Italia around the corner. I had a shot at working in arealrestaurant. I sailed through the cooking test last week – they loved me! This meeting was meant to be just a formality to meet Carl Hurst. I could’ve worked forCarl Hurst, Louise! But now I’ve ruined it.’ Behind my fingers, I squeeze my eyes tightly shut.
‘Esther Adams?’ A voice pierces through my wails and I freeze.
Shit.
Slowly – very slowly indeed – I open my eyes and uncover my face. In my ear, Lou is asking if I’m OK and what is happening. I ignore her, quickly ending the call and throwing the phone into my bag. Oh my god.
‘Mr Hurst,’ I say in an unrecognizable voice, taking in the man I’ve studied on pages and pages of Google Image results. The renowned chef winking out at me every week from the pages of my favourite magazine’s food pages. My idol, the man rumoured to be in talks for his own show on ITV2. The man I was supposed to meet inside ten minutes ago for a job interview.
If I wasn’t attached to my mum’s car.
And oh my god, he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.
‘Did we…’ he trails off, smiling magnanimously. ‘Did we plan on meeting in the car park for our interview? One of my staff said he thought the applicant I was waiting for might be the woman leaning against her car outside. I thought I’d better investigate.’ A smile plays on his lips. ‘Did you want to speak out here?’
To tell or not to tell.
‘Um,’ I hedge, trying to appear casual, pinned though I am against my mum’s car. ‘Well, um, I just thought’ – my eyes dart side to side – ‘that it was such nice weather out here, maybe we could chat outside?’ It starts to rain. ‘Why not, eh?’ I cough a little as cold, wet drops hit me in the face. ‘Um,after all, us cooks, we’re, er, we’re cooped up inside all day every day, right? Let’s take advantage of this lovely weather.’ Somewhere a few miles away, thunder starts to roll.
Carl Hurst regards me solemnly and sweat breaks out on my brow. Luckily, the rain is starting to fall so hard, it’s unlikely he’ll notice.
He’s unbelievably sexy, like,unbelievably. Older than me by maybe fifteen years, but the craggy edges around his eyes and mouth only add to his sex appeal. He’s so talented, so knowledgeable. I don’t know if I want to learn from him or fuck him.
Ideally both.
‘OK, Esther Adams,’ he says at last, his mouth curling at the edges, eyes dancing. ‘My sous said you can cook and we need someone urgently.’ He pauses, looking me up and down in the now-pouring rain. ‘And I’ve got something like a good feeling about you.’ My insides burn from happiness and lust as he adds, ‘So you’ve got the job.’
‘Oh my god,thank you!’ I cry, no longer caring about my skirt or the rain streaming down my face. ‘I promise you won’t regret this, Mr Hurst, I swear it. I’ll work so hard, you’ll see. I’ll do anything for you.’
He grins again and I force down a massive lump of longing in my throat.
‘Please, call me Carl, Esther,’ he says in a deep voice. ‘Oh, and do you want me to hand you your car keys so you can get your skirt out of the car door?’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
