by Aki Ulmer
All her life, she wanted to cook. It was a secret childhood dream that she’d just barely managed to get started.
… So much for that.
“I don’t know what to do.” Aubrey’s voice shook and for the first time in her entire life the twenty-seven-year-old chef wanted a cigarette.
Well, ex-chef now. She’d managed to wiggle her way up the ladder since she’d moved to LA. At first, she’d just planned on going to college to get a degree in something and make her parents proud. Yeah, that had lasted a good two weeks before she dropped out and started working in kitchens.
It wasn’t a problem. Aubrey had been brought up as an army brat—Germany, Japan, the Philippines; she’d grown up eating all over the world. Moving around to different places exposed Aubrey to a thousand different foods, and eventually she started trying them out at home. It wasn’t long before she got good at throwing different dishes together.
“I don’t know what to do.” She repeated the statement, as if that would somehow emphasize her utter crapshoot of a dilemma. “I don’t have any savings, my rent is due, and now I have no income. Quitting was a stupid idea.”
“Aubrey.” Her cousin’s voice sounded like it was gearing up for a lecture.
Great. Here it comes.
Aubrey braced herself for the barrage of “I told you so’s” she’d already been chastised with. The main line cook where she’d worked, Evan, had jeered at her when she left. He reminded her that she was a woman and didn’t belong in a “real kitchen”.
“You kept saying he was a jackass that you never learned anything from.” Whoa, what? Cody’s ultra-sweet, feminine tone was without condescension. Although, it was really weird to hear her say “jackass”. Cody Taavetti was a thoroughbred country girl, and therefore, a “proper lady”. Aubrey was the complete opposite.
“I know, but it was a paycheck.” Aubrey’s voice was still trembling from her confrontation with Chef Jackass.
“I reiterate,” Cody quipped, “You were going crazy.”
“Well, money is kind of important, Cody!”
Aubrey sighed. Sure, she was just falling further into a pit of problems, but that was a pity party she was willing to get on. But living in the car would only last her so long without money to eat. If worse came to worse, she could try asking Justin to put her up for a few nights.
“Your mental health is more important.” Aubrey rolled her eyes as her small-town cousin lectured her. “Didn’t you say he was some sort of–”
“–Bastard love child of Gareth Blackstock and Gordon Ramsay.” Aubrey finished while trying to cross the street without getting hit by one of the thousand angry drivers zooming past her, spraying water everywhere. Somehow, she managed to quit during the worst rain storm Los Angeles had seen in… forever, really.
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Cody choked down a laugh as she spoke. “How can two guys have a baby, Aubrey?”
That’s what you choose to focus on?
“I don’t know!” She snorted into her phone. Not cute or ladylike at all. “They’re both chefs, maybe they were basting a turkey and out popped a baby!”
There was a pause that lasted longer than Aubrey liked. Then the insane, hysterical laughter erupted from her phone’s speaker.
“Aubrey, what kinda of weird California Hippie drugs have you been smoking?”
Aubrey rolled her eyes. Most yuppie-types had careers, mortgages, and babies on the way. Her ass? Single, childless, and soon to be homeless. A 401k? Oh, please. Aubrey had been lucky to afford her apartment on her salary.
“Are you done yet?” She snapped again. At this moment, all she wanted was a tall bottle of something alcoholic. The higher the content, the better. She probably had some Grey Goose and Kahlua at home.
White Russians until I puke. She grimaced. Just gotta go pick up more milk.
“–not even getting a good paycheck anyway. Not enough to live off of. You told me so yourself.”
“Wait, what?” Booze dreams would have to wait. “What did you say? I tuned you out thinking of all the drunk I’m going to get when I get home.”
“Aren’t you the honest one.” Cody’s tone was getting dangerously close to condescending.
“This is why you’ve been single since–”
“Enough about my lack of a sex life, you ass!” She’d almost dropped her cellphone as some guy shoved his way past her. Honestly, the nerve of some people.
Something cold and wet splashed on her foot.
Great. Aubrey sighed. It never rained in LA. How was there a puddle in the middle of a sidewalk? She tried to shake excess water off of the cotton leg of her loose black work pants.
“Why don’t you come out here and work for me?” Cody said. “Just stay at my place for a while. You can save up for a deposit on another apartment when you get that fancy new head chef job.”
Oh, a Von’s! The superstore’s sign blared at her from the end of the block… It was a place to buy milk, so why not pop in? White Russians weren’t really a thing without milk.
“I can’t move out to Montana, Cody, I–” She froze in the middle of the dingy grey sidewalk, hoping she had misheard. “Work for you?”
“What’s wrong with that? My place is great!”
“Your place is a diner.” Aubrey sniffed, feeling borderline insulted. She’d just quit working for a four star chef, and her cousin wanted her to cook for a bunch of people that didn’t know what a béchamel was? “I’d forget everything I know. I can’t get any special ingredients where you live. I’d be stuck with crap like… like chili, and cornbread, and… and chicken fried steak.”
Aubrey shuttered. Chicken fried steak was an affront to both chicken and steak.
“Don’t you dare get food–snooty with me, Aubrey Quinn Belle.” She cringed at the use of her middle name. She hated her middle name with the passion of a thousand undercooked salmons.
“I’ll get snooty if I want to.” She stuck her tongue out, forgetting Cody couldn’t see her childish behavior. “I don’t wanna rot in a crappy kitchen in the middle of cattle country.”
“If you’re seriously complaining about the smell, you’re an idiot.” Aubrey bit back a little snip of laughter. She snatched the white skull cap off her head; letting her long red frizz flop down in a loose ponytail. “You need money. I’ll pay for your plane ticket, just come here.”
“Justin said he’d get another job for me.” Aubrey muttered weakly.
“Yeah, and how’d that work out last time?” Venom dripped from Cody’s voice.
Aubrey bit back a sigh; she did not want to have this conversation again. She knew her family had frowned at the idea of her choosing to stay in California when her parents had decided to move to Louisiana–her family wasn’t exactly a fan of The Golden State. They’d all kept insisting that Aubrey would get addicted to drugs. Because, you know, that’s what you did when you lived on the West Coast. “I just need to wait a few weeks; he knows how I cook, so he can totally put in a good word.”
“That fruit that dumped you for the pastry cook?”
“Yes, Cody, the fruit that dumped me for the patissier.” Aubrey grumbled. A shiver ran down her spine as she walked passed the frozen food section. Dozens of boxes that vowed to either fill you up or slim you down taunted her with their empty promises of great taste and nutritional value. Her cotton whites were great for keeping the heat from kicking her in the face, but they didn’t help much against the cold.
You’re thinking about all this crap so you don’t think about Justin.
Yeah, that was the truth. The man was a gorgeous dirty blonde with green eyes that just made a girl melt. She’d asked him out a few weeks after they’d both started their internships at a local bakery when she was just starting to learn how to cook after high school. They’d dated for a year. Plenty of mind–blowing sex was had. Yeah, right.
One of her complaints had been how disconnected Justin had seemed. Then she walked in on him and their boss making out in the employee’s lounge where all the lockers were. That was obviously the end of the relationship, and it had taken a bit of her pride with it. She would’ve been more livid if the tall jackass hadn’t been so apologetic and regretful. He’d also been so insanely sweet while they were together. He brought her ice-cream at two in the morning, put up with her crappy taste in movies and music, and most important of all?
He thought the faint freckles on her nose and under her eyes were cute, and he didn’t complain about her hips or ass. So many guys before him had been so awful with their “You’d be so perfect if you just worked on a few things.” Men were so damn vicious with their opinions of how a girl should look. Magazines and mass media did a perfectly good job of ramming “thin is beautiful” down a girl’s throat as it was.
“He’s an asshole, and you’re an idiot for not realizing you were dating a queer.” The tone Cody took heated Aubrey’s blood a bit, and not in a good way. Was she going to let her cousin bad-mouth Justin’s wonderful treatment? Fuck no!
“Hey!” She almost growled into her phone. “Don’t pull your homophobic shit with me. It’s not cool. Plus, he’s my best friend, and has gotten me out of dumbass crap before.” When she’d quit Monsieur Asshole’s, Justin had been there. He’d been quick to mention that he’d look for work and knew a ton of people. He promised a job in two or three weeks. Of course, the only thing he wasn’t able to offer was a place to stay and food to eat in the meantime. He and Adam were planning on getting married and starting a family. Not exactly the best place for a bachelorette wanting to get laid.
Ha! Sex. Right. I wish. I could use the goddamn stress relief.
“I’m sorry.” And Cody did seem sincerely apologetic. “I just… Don’t like that he hurt you. I also can’t believe you’re still friends with him!”
“That shit is also old fucking news. We broke up two years ago. Also, he’s still my best friend because he’s supportive, awesome, and makes the best fucking sachertorte I’ve ever had in my life. And he makes killer rip-off Oreos.”
“The asshole cheats on you, and you’re good with that because he can make you chocolate cake and sandwich cookies? Is food the only thing that matters to you?” Aubrey could just see her cousin’s hair bouncing off her shoulders as she shook her head.
“I’m not dignifying that with a response.” Yes, it made her sound like an asshole, but… Sometimes, she really did feel like that.
Aubrey sighed into the phone. She felt defeated as she stood in front of the blaring white light of the dairy isle. She chose to bypass all the fancy cartons promising non-cow milk and settled for something nostalgic and cute. There were three of them left on the shelf; tall glass bottles that actually resembled traditional milk bottles. She grabbed all three, like a selfish ass, and easily balanced them in her arms.
“I think it was a crime when America decided that it was a better idea to grab cartons, rather than pay that milkman.” She was rambling to keep herself talking now. It was apparent in the almost-dead tone she was using. “What did milkmen ever do to you, America?”
“…”
Oh. Silence. That was comforting.
“Aubrey, I’m booking you a flight out of LAX for Thursday. You have two days to pack up and haul ass out here. You can get Justin to send you whatever you can’t pack. You’ll do better with a change of pace, Brie. Give yourself a break from stressy LA.” Cody sounded dead serious, which was another anomaly. Hearing those somber words could only mean Aubrey was honestly losing it.
“Hey, you finally called me Brie.” She smiled weakly as she gently placed the fragile bottles onto the cashier’s conveyer belt. She didn’t even look the poor teenager in the eye as she slapped down her last twenty.
“Well yeah, Dummy. You only listen seriously when you hear your full name. Now, go home, get drunk off your ass on those white Russian things you love so much, and get packin’,” Cody chuckled into the phone.
Faint clicks of a computer mouse were heard over their surprisingly clear connection. Aubrey tossed a fake smile at the faceless teenager and took her change and the doubled plastic bag that held her precious liquid gold. “You’re Montana-bound Thursday at three in the afternoon.”
Montana. The middle of nowhere as far as Aubrey was concerned. It might be filled with a lot of nothing, but it honestly would give her nerves a break from the high intensity of working in a successful upscale LA eatery.
“Alright.” She was done. Defeated. Coerced. Maybe a little saved. “I’ll ask Justin for a twenty to Uber myself to the airport. See you in Cowboy-ville.”
