Page 4 of Once Bitten, Twice Fried
Nicki tapped the steering wheel nervously. “Does that mean you still need me around?”
“God no. Please go home. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon.”
“Thanks, boss. See you tomorrow, then!”
Zoe got out of the car and trudged inside.
She shrugged off her coat and boots, then made a beeline for the kitchen. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but she was desperate for a glass of wine. She hadn’t eaten a proper dinner in days - the snacking on set was really getting out of hand. Zoe made a mental note to go running tomorrow morning. Wine in hand, she sat down on her cream-coloured Scandinavian sofawith her laptop on her knees. She opened up her calendar and made sure there was nothing pressing coming up. The only major points besides the filming schedule for the time being were two interviews next week - one for a women’s magazine and the other one for a national news media. She was good at interviews, but she always hated them. Good thing Nicki gave her the commercial points she needed to tackle. Then she had a few dinners and parties - Nicki had already highlighted those where she would be cooking in red and those where she would be attending as a guest in blue. For now, everything was around London to accommodate filming. Once the season wrapped, however, catering season would properly begin, and then she’d start taking on engagements further afield. Those were the ones she needed to start confirming. She switched to her emails and started scrolling through her “requests” folder. She took a sip of her wine and started skimming through.
A familiar name stopped Zoe in her tracks.
Yasmine Ayad.
She hadn’t seen that name in years. Zoe opened the email without thinking twice.
“Hi Zoe!
How are you doing? It’s been a long time!
I’m getting married in two months and was wondering if I could hire your catering service? It will be in the Belgian Ardennes (remember the Ardennes?).
Hope to hear from you!
Yasmine”
Zoe smiled a little. She could almost hear her old friend’s bubbly, slightly francophone accented voice coming through the email. It felt like a lifetime since they’d seen each other. The last time she saw her was maybe five years? Six years ago? It was right before Zoe’s career as a professional chef picked up. When she still had time.
Zoe leaned back, her glass of wine still in her hand. Her Brussels days had been a riot. She’d picked the place because of the nightlife and cheap beers, but it was the Brusselers she’d met that had made her fall in love with the city. With a smile on her face, Zoe reread the email. She would love to cook for Yasmine, especially at her wedding.
Yasmine had been Zoe’s college flatmate during her year abroad in Brussels, and one of her best friends there. Yasmine had just walked up to her one day at the beginning of the year and asked her if she wanted to move in. Her former flatmate had just flaked on her and she needed someone who “looked sane and like they would be on time with rent,” and Zoe apparently fit the bill. Zoe’s own digs had been dodgier and noisier than expected and she hadn’t signed anything yet. So she’d said yes and neither of them had ever regretted it.
She clicked the reply button, excited to respond to her old friend, but her heart skipped a beat when she saw that there was a post-script.
“PS: Julie is one of my bridesmaids!”
Julie. Of course she was. She and Yasmine had always been friends, and then when Zoe had come along, they’d clicked instantly. They’d really been inseparable, becoming even closer than with Yasmine.
Then things had fallen apart. Zoe never knew why.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she debated how she should respond.
Chapter 3
The bags were starting to feel heavy on Julie’s tired arms. Once again, she’d been too nice and offered to carry Yasmine’s shopping bags when she complained about the weight. If only Julie’s ego wasn’t so easily stroked. It only took Yasmine to mentioning offhand that Julie was the more athletic between the two of them for Julie to chivalrously agree to help her. Now the bags felt overwhelming, between the warm April weather and the packed shopping streets. Julie kept bumping into passers-by who didn’t even spare her a glance before hurrying on.
“OK Yasmine, I’m too tired with the bags. We either need to take a break or you need to take some back.”
“Already? Fine, I can take two back. We can’t take a break just yet, I want to check out the bookshop.”
Julie frowned. “What do you mean ‘already?’ I’ve been carrying your bags for the past hour at least.” She handed all of them back to Yasmine. “I feel like this friendship is very one-sided.”
“Oh come on. You can very well carry my stuff to make up for the fact that you were half an hour late.”
Touché. Julie had always been chronically late. At 33 years old, she had just come to accept that this was who she was as a person.
“Let’s not talk about this any more. I’ve decided that I’ve forgiven you for our one-sided friendship.” Still, Julie didn’t take the bags back.
“You know that I can still take you off my wedding guest list, right?” Yasmine smirked.
