Personal Chef

Chapter 12

My flight touched down in Los Angeles, and I looked out the window at the landscape. The airport runway did not offer much of a view, but I was excited just the same. It had been an easy trip, and I'd spent quite a bit of time working on menus for the next couple days. I was cooking three meals most days. There would be times when they'd eat out, but basically the food was on me.

In preparation for the trip, I'd made a short survey for everyone who'd be staying at the studio. Andrew sent it out via email and then sent me the responses. It was just a basic questionnaire about food allergies, dislikes, dietary needs, and preferences. Several people were vegetarian, and a couple people had strong dislikes for certain foods. There were no allergies, thankfully.

I'd taken an earlier flight than Shawn. Andrew had not been able to get me on his flight, but I didn't care. I didn't want Shawn to feel like he had to talk to me the entire time we were in the air, and I wanted to focus on my work. He'd booked me a first class seat on a slightly earlier plane, so I had no complaints.

A driver picked me up at the airport. Instead of going straight to The Woodshed, which I'd be calling home for the next month, I asked that he take me to the grocery store. I had a preliminary list of staple foods, plus I wanted things for the next day and a half.

As far as cooking utensils went, Andrew assured me the kitchen was well stocked. I had my doubts that it would meet my standards, but I'd adapt. Worst case scenario, I'd have to buy a few essentials.

As I wandered the aisles of the store, list in hand, my phone buzzed.

Shawn: just touched down

Shawn: you at the house?

Me: Nope. At the grocery store.

Shawn: get stuff to make chocolate chip muffins

Shawn: please

Since The break-up, Shawn was eating what he wanted. I still cooked healthfully, but he ate the carbs he loved.

Me: Already on the list. Making a double recipe.

Shawn: yessssss! see you soon

I walked the aisles trying to familiarize myself with the new store. I'd stopped at Ralph's and it seemed adequate. The produce was fresh and the meat selection was decent. By the time I was done, I had a half a dozen reusable bags full of food. The driver, whose name was Jeff, helped me load everything into the trunk. He then took me to the house.

We pulled up a long private drive in Malibu, and I was a bit awestruck when I saw The Woodshed. The compound included the main house, which was the recording studio, as well as two other residential houses. The bigger of the two was where I was setting up my "base camp" as chef. I wondered how much it cost to rent a place like this for a month.

As I was starting to unload the groceries with Jeff's help, a car pulled beside us and a group people got out. They apparently knew who I was and introduced themselves as Teddy, Scott, and Geoff. They'd just had lunch out but insisted they'd eaten light in anticipation of dinner. Each grabbed the groceries and my luggage and carried them inside.

Geoff turned to me, "Follow me to your room."

I felt slightly guilty not carrying anything since he had my suitcases.

He opened the door to a small but beautiful room. It was painted a pale blue and the bedding and furniture were all bright white.

"Thank you," I said as he placed my things on a bench at the end of the bed. "I'll unpack after I put the groceries away."