Chef's Choice: A Novel (Chef's Kiss, Band 2) - Softcover

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Chapter 1 Chapter 1
Luna O’Shea cracked her neck in four places before pulling off her headset and tossing it onto her desk. Working from home was usually a godsend, but today Luna felt exhausted, and that last call with Tim had not done her any favors.

Her wildly disorganized boss was the CEO of Papr Tigr, the digital-marketing-slash-advertising firm (or was it advertising-slash-marketing? Luna could never remember) where she had worked remotely for almost five years. Tim was normally a scatterbrained weirdo, but today he’d been in rare form. Luna had spent the last three and a quarter hours walking him through yet another Word document with his very personal, very important log-ins listed in Arial font, despite Luna’s protests that writing all that down in a hackable file and then emailing it back and forth was a bad idea.

Kind of funny how the head of a company that touted itself as being on the cutting edge was so bad with anything digital. Tim pulled a $600,000 yearly salary, and Luna really couldn’t understand why anyone would think he was worth a fraction of that. Lose a zero, maybe, but what did she know? She was just a personal assistant. And today, her job had consisted of babysitting Tim while he anxiously learned how to update and save the doc himself. Her talents had just been wasted on nearly four hours of sixth-grade-level Microsoft Office instruction.

At least she was almost done for the day. She unhooked her phone from its charger and checked her notifications. Simone still hadn’t responded to Luna’s question about dinner plans; she probably already had a dinner date set with her themfriend, Ray. As usual. Luna silently resigned herself to another night of microwaved taquitos and a Kraft single eaten straight out of the wrapper. You know, for calcium.

At first it had been kind of fun for Luna, having the whole apartment to herself when Simone stayed over at Ray’s. But after a few weeks of seeing Simone only when she swung home to grab some clean clothes, all the alone time had lost its appeal. You could have only so many one-person dance parties before it got old. Between that and working from home, Luna could go from one end of the week to the next without speaking to another person in the flesh.

She wondered if Simone would eventually move in with Ray, since they spent so much time together anyway. That would be awesome for them—but a disaster for Luna, who couldn’t possibly cover the entire rent on her salary, and who wasn’t thrilled with the idea of finding a new roomie. She’d gotten comfortable over the years, living with Simone. Sure, Simone was neurotic about keeping the bathroom clean, and she did take up way more than half of the fridge space, but she was a loyal friend and always made sure Luna was eating well. The perks of having a professional chef as a roommate.

If Simone decided to move out of the apartment, Luna would be holding the short end of the stick in more ways than one.

She checked her group chat for some much-needed human interaction, but quickly deflated. Aisha was telling everyone about the house she and Ruth were buying in New Jersey, and the other girls were asking about how many guest rooms the place had and what they planned on doing with the backyard.

Willow: can u fit a pool? i want a pool

Lily: It’s not your house! It’s Aisha’s. Although, Aisha, if you want to put in an herb garden…

Luna tried to compose a suitably cheery message of her own, but the other responses and counterpoints were coming so fast and furious that she couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She was happy for Aisha, truly, but the thought of losing friends to the far-off suburbs was a bummer. Soon Aisha and her wife would be wrapped up in their responsibilities and have no time to hang out. Just like Simone.

Luna slapped her phone screen-down on her desk and said aloud, “That is black-and-white thinking, and I live in a world full of color.” It was one of her many mantras designed to disrupt negative thoughts. Yes, her friends were growing up and going in different directions, but that didn’t mean Luna was being left behind. She was doing fine! Her blood pressure was great. Her pedicure was unchipped. She was a happy, fulfilled person.

She checked the group chat again.

Willow and Sara had moved on to gushing about their new love interests. Apparently, one was a competitive deadlifter and the other had a world record in rock climbing. Abs that you could serve a mezze platter on, Sara declared.

Luna could feel her teeth grinding. She tossed her phone onto her bed, where it bounced once before coming to a stop far out of her reach. “Comparing myself to others does everyone a disservice,” she recited to the ceiling, though she had a hard time believing a word of it.

How could she not compare? Everyone else had relationships and houses and mezze-worthy abs, and what did Luna have? Her last hookup, a well-read barista with good cheekbones and a bad attitude, had fizzled out weeks ago. Luna disliked ghosting on principle, but in Rick’s case, she’d figured leaving his texts on read was the better part of valor.

Luna took a deep, cleansing lion’s breath. It would be more productive to focus on gratitude, she decided. She plucked a sparkly purple journal from one of the shelves above her desk and, uncapping a pen with her teeth, began to jot things down in her stubby script: She had a mother who loved and supported her. She was living her truth as a proud trans woman. She had an amazing group of friends. She lived in New York, like she’d always dreamed of doing. And she had a good, steady job. Even if it is a little frustrating at times, she scrawled.

As if in response, her work laptop pinged.

Luna frowned at the video chat icon bouncing on the screen. Why would Jennifer from HR be calling, and at the end of the day? They didn’t have anything on the calendar.

Maybe it was another Tim-related fire drill. Sometimes he’d close out of a window, think his file was deleted forever, and randomly call whoever he thought might be responsible for a good yell. HR got involved more often than IT.

Luna jammed her headset back over her ears and answered with audio only on her end. Jennifer’s glossy, stick-straight brown hair and wide, pearly smile filled her screen.

“Hi, Jen, I was actually about to log off for the day,” Luna said in her corporate voice, full of false cheer. She doodled a small sun in the margins of her journal. “Is this urgent, or can we circle back first thing tomorrow?” Tomorrow was a Friday, and Luna knew no one really got anything done on Fridays. Whatever the problem was, she could tackle it the following Monday.

“It is quite urgent, actually.” Jennifer mirrored Luna’s tone to perfection. “Oh, would you mind turning on your camera? I can’t see your video.”

Luna grimaced. This fucking company, always asking her to turn on her camera. Like there couldn’t possibly be a good reason as to why she wouldn’t want to stare at her own face for hours on end—and know other people were staring, too. The dysphoria was real sometimes. Part of the joy of working from home was not being perceived in a corporeal way, but video-chatting with actual video was being pushed as part of the whole...