Chapter 2 First Day Work

The man just stared into space. With those dark shades, I couldn’t even see his eyes. They spoke in a language I didn’t understand and laughed among themselves. I assumed they were laughing at me. I was starting to get irritated, but I needed this job, so I stayed quiet.

The bodyguard made a call and handed it to the boss. Couldn’t he just handle it himself? After the call, he smiled at me.

“You did say you were clumsy, but breaking an entire restaurant’s equipment? Isn’t that a bit too much?”

“Shaun is exaggerating. He never liked me that much.”

The boss leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “Interesting. I have a job for you, but not in my restaurant. I can’t risk having my equipment damaged.”

“What job?” I asked, my heart pounding.

“You’ll be my personal chef. That way you won’t have to wake up early to go to work, and you’ll be in a comfortable working space.”

I smiled. “I’m happy with that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Can you even cook? I don’t trust you at all.”

I laughed, and to my surprise, he did too. He was calm, open, and easy to talk to.

“Let’s go to the kitchen. Cook something quick for me, and I’ll know if I can trust you.”

“I’m fine with that.”

This man was giving me a chance. I had to do this right. He stood up and picked up a polished black stick. It didn’t look like a walking stick. He wasn’t limping. Maybe it was just for style. Classic man, I thought.

In the kitchen, he handed me the ingredients and stood close as I chopped the vegetables. What caught me off guard was how he touched the carrots I’d cut, checking the slices with his hand. Couldn’t he just look?

“I like them cut straight. First impressions,” he said.

I laughed. He didn’t look like he was paying attention, but he was remarkably observant.

I finished cooking spaghetti with meatballs and vegetables. He inhaled the aroma deeply, then walked out of the kitchen. I followed, carrying the bowl.

“You can taste it now, Sir,” I said.

“I don’t eat in public places,” he replied.

Weird, but okay. I didn’t ask questions. He gave me the address to come the next day at nine. At least it wasn’t seven.

Maybe I wouldn’t be too late.

I drove home thinking about the strange encounter. There was something about this man I couldn’t explain. Something off, something intriguing.

After a long bath, I sorted my file of recipes for breakfast, lunch, and supper. Cooking was my passion, and I couldn’t afford to mess up this opportunity. I slept early, trying to prepare for a fresh start.

The next morning, I wasn’t as late as usual. By 9:10, I was driving to Hillcrest, navigating with GPS. When I saw the house, I almost thought I’d made a mistake. It was huge. The electric gate opened automatically as I approached, and security stopped me.

“Your name and surname, ma’am?” a guard asked.

“Shantel Leaster,” I replied. I filled in the forms, signed the book, and had my fingerprints and picture taken. Exaggerated security, I thought.

I parked my small car among the luxury vehicles and grabbed my bag and file. I knocked on the enormous door. It opened automatically. No one was there. Electronic too? I wondered.

Inside, a shoe rack caught my attention. Fluffy white socks hung neatly. I slipped off my sneakers and put them on.

A young woman in a cleaning uniform appeared. Her name tag read Bonnie.

“Hi. Follow me, please,” she said.

I followed her through the house. Staff moved around silently, some cleaning, some carrying furniture. Music played softly in the background. The house was immaculate and peaceful, mostly white with green and black accents.

Bonnie led me to the kitchen and handed me what looked like a menu and a book full of ingredients.

“Mr Zee has his breakfast at ten, exactly,” she said.

I nodded and looked through the details. Breakfast seemed simple, but lunch and supper worried me. Italian dishes weren’t my specialty, but I would try my best. The kitchen was so clean I was afraid to touch anything. I even had to ask Bonnie where the stove was.

She giggled and showed me. A button pressed, and a hidden stove appeared. I would never have figured that out.

I opened the fridge and saw so much food, most of it my favorites. I took what I needed and started cooking. Breakfast was simple: bacon, eggs, grilled cheese, toast, and baked beans. I dropped the pan when he appeared at the bottom of the stairs, followed by his bodyguard. He was wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeve, tight shirt.

He said my name, Shanty, and that was when my heart really started racing.