Take Out Chef

Chapter One

The worst day of my life turned out to be the best.

My crappy job at the cinema was always, well, crappy. I could handle the snobs at the ticket booth, or the way people changed their order every two seconds at the popcorn station, but the worst, was cleaning toilets. The worse of the worst, was when someone got sick, and I had to clean them. Like today.

It didn't help that my second job was dreadful as well. Being a waitress was okay, enduring my snarky boss was not. Already tired and crabby from my job at the cinema, I snapped at her fifth eye roll. And no matter what Sarah did, we couldn't say anything, or she'd fired anyone on the spot.

So, now I was not only tired and crabby, but also fired.

My brother's text came in just as I was starting to dwell in my own misery. Especially since I was already late with last month's tuition. My heart almost stopped when I read his text, and I had to read it twice until it made sense to me.

You got in. First round of interviews start today at 4 pm.

I made it.

I don't know what Seth had done to get me a spot, but he got it. I had a chance to submit my application in the new culinary program hosted by Chef Tom Simmons.

In that moment, I forgot about my whole day. Or that I needed a job. Or that the program was directed to delinquents —small detail that didn't seem important— because we were talking about Chef Simmons, the most handsome and the best chef in the Food Network Channel.

Seth sent me the school's address, and I read my application one more time. I'd been carrying it around for weeks in my backpack. The website where you registered for this had been glitching over and over, making it impossible to register in the first place. Some people said that it was the first filter, that they weren't accepting everyone, but in that moment, I didn't care.

I was in.

Knots formed in my stomach as I stood in front of the school's door. A warm feeling ran through me. Hope. Hope for a better life. Hope to learn how to cook and do all the fancy dishes all chefs do. And yes, hope to get a glimpse of the guy that had entertained me every Thursday at 8 pm for the last three years.

Suddenly, my feet didn't hurt. My shoulders didn't feel heavy, and the soft breeze felt fresh and filled me with energy. I got this. I was so ready for that interview. It meant that I was one step closer to take classes with renowned chefs and an opportunity to work in a five-star restaurant.

It was a dream come true opportunity.

My hands were already sweaty, and I rubbed them against my jeans. I took a deep breath and pushed the doors open. The sound of chatter filled the room.

The hall in front of me was empty, there was just a girl behind a table, typing away on her phone, looking like she rather be anywhere else than here. She yawned as I moved closer to her. Her black hair was long and curly, and it fell on her shoulders. To be fair, she looked too stylish to be there, too. Feeling self-conscious, I passed a hand across my jeans and swallowed hard.

"Hi."

She didn't look up. "Name?"

"Jessica Summer."

She reached out for the tablet on the table and scrolled through a list until she found my name. Nodding, she grabbed a marker and wrote it in a white tag. "Wait for your turn." She handed me the tag and gestured me to move to the room on our right. "Someone will call you for your interview."

Someone? Chef Simmons perhaps? Nah. He probably had someone to order someone else to do the interviews.

I plastered the tag on my chest and entered the waiting room. Piercings, tattoos, and neon hairs were the trend here.