The Ingredients for Happiness. Lucy Knott
protocol and get the dining area set up, I should think,’ Amanda said, eyeing up the plastic-covered furniture and dusty floorboards. Better yet, she might make a start on it before the others arrived; she didn’t want to put them off by having them cleaning on their first day, though she had mentioned this in the interviews. With the café being brand new, she had expressed her need for staff to aid in the final preparations and seating plan. No one had pulled a face, so she had taken that as a good sign.
Suddenly a loud crash came from the kitchen causing Amanda’s clipboard to fall to the floor, her hands flying up to her chest to keep her heart in its cage. She took a few steps towards the double doors when there came a loud banging on the front door. She had the blinds down so no one could see inside, and she could not see out. With her heart still beating painfully, she waved Kate in the direction of the kitchen. Kate nodded in understanding, and Amanda made for the front door.
She peeked through the blinds and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was in fact her two new hires; that would teach her to be a pessimist she thought. Then Amanda noticed a third woman that she didn’t recognize. She was hesitant to open the door, her fingers hovering over the lock, but she couldn’t exactly leave her new staff standing in the cold – what kind of impression would that give them of their new boss? She forced a smile with pursed lips, welcoming the staff inside, but wasn’t quick enough to hold off the other woman.
Immediately the lady started snapping photos on her phone, before turning to Amanda and shoving the phone in her face. The new trainees looked at this interaction with mouths wide opens, their brows low in confusion. The boy was bouncing at his knees unsure whether he should step forward and interfere, yet ready to do so if Amanda gave him the go-ahead.
Amanda waved him off, with a fake closed-mouth smile and pointed for them to go and sit at the sole table in the dining area. Then she turned to the lady to speak, but the lady beat her to it.
‘So, this is what San Francisco Beat are retiring for? Might I ask your name? The lucky lady who snapped up one of the hottest lead singers in the world right now.’ The lady was a picture of confidence and casual, with one arm crossed over her black blazer and untucked blouse, and the other arm holding her recording device aloft. As she spoke her wrist waved from side to side, in an air of arrogance Amanda was not a fan of.
‘Excuse me, but you cannot be on this premises, we are not open yet,’ Amanda said as politely as she could, opening the door a little wider now. But the lady was eyeing up the room, her recording device still in the air. A loud grunt came from the kitchen followed by a slur of swear words and Kate shouting, ‘It’s okay!’. Amanda shook her head; she didn’t have time for this. ‘I asked you to leave, please,’ she said, slightly louder, her voice wobbling. The lady sauntered over to Amanda, ignoring the open door and concentrating on Amanda’s face. Amanda could feel the judgement in the lady’s glare.
‘Tell me, what’ve you got that all those models and actresses don’t? Me and the rest of the world deserve to know, so we can bag our own rock star. It’s only fair us ladies help each other out,’ the lady said with a wiggle of her eyebrows and an attempt at a friendly laugh that only sounded cold and creepy to Amanda’s ears.
Amanda remained silent. She wanted to shove the lady out of the door, but thought better of it, not wanting to be sued for harming a so-called ‘journalist’. ‘Go on, I know there’s a voice in there somewhere. We know Dan likes them feisty; he’s always being snapped with the troubled starlets and harlots after all.’
Amanda felt as though David Beckham had just taken a penalty and it had hit her square in the stomach knocking the wind out of her. She steadied herself with one hand holding the door frame and the other on her hip. Why was she letting this lady get to her? She knew Dan better than anyone. He had been with her six weeks ago. Life had been pretty magical since Christmas. Yes, Dan had dated his fair share of women, but this lady knew nothing and was simply stirring the pot – that didn’t stop Amanda’s lungs grasping for air though. But she would not let this show; she kept her mouth closed, her eyes still looking out of the door and into the grey Manchester morning. ‘Garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper. Garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper.’ She tried to conjure up the smell in her mind to take the edge off the lady’s words.
‘Cat got your tongue, hey? Afraid you might not match up to the throng of women succumbing to that irresistible voice of his? Or are you just so sure of yourself that you’re his soul mate, that he’s not like all the other rock stars before him tempted by the high life, that you don’t feel the need to talk to people like me?’ The lady’s voice was vicious in its assault, dripping with spite and jealousy. Amanda wanted to retaliate, but she couldn’t. This lady had somehow gotten under her skin; she wasn’t sure if it was the clouds that were fuzzy or just the tears threatening to spill over. This was not like her, she didn’t get emotional like this. She needed this lady gone. Amanda knew better than anyone not to overthink the media, because it would eat away at you if you let it. She had caught a glimpse of the gossip magazines recently and knew San Francisco Beat having just signed with City Heights Records was a huge deal, but Amanda had felt better when she kept her focus on the café. Not that she wasn’t proud of the boys and Sabrina for this amazing achievement, but the music business was not her world. Dan was Dan. He was not a celebrity to her.
She turned to look at the woman and edged closer to her, not giving her any alternative other than to take a step back. A few more steps forward from Amanda, and the woman and her conceited smirk were out the door. Amanda snapped it shut as quick as she could and exhaled a shaky breath.
‘Everything okay, boss?’ Kate asked, forcing Amanda to snap out of her wayward thoughts and focus on today’s agenda; getting the café up and running, and clean.
‘I think I should be the one asking you that question,’ Amanda said, brushing a hand through the loose strands of hair that had escaped from her messy bun and shrugging off the encounter with the rude journalist. ‘So?’ She raised her eyebrows at Kate as they started walking towards the waiting staff.
‘So, it’s not looking too bad. Give him a couple more hours and Liam says we’ll be right as rain,’ Kate replied, stopping on the way to greet the others to pick up Amanda’s clipboard that she had dropped earlier.
Amanda reached the table and clapped her hands together, offering a cheery hello to make the two new hires forget about the odd conversation that had just ensued.
‘Having trouble with your boyfriend’s ex?’ the boy queried, swiveling around on his chair, casually draping his arm over the back of it. Amanda couldn’t help but chuckle at his innocence. It felt refreshing to relax back into her anonymity. It was a sharp contrast to how over-exposed she had felt just moments ago.
‘Something like that,’ she said. The boy offered her a sympathetic smile. ‘Right …’ Amanda started, before there was another loud knock at the door. Three sets of eyes bore into her as though she were running a mad house.
Amanda turned on her black trainers and rushed to the window to get a peek at who was knocking. Looking through a gap in the blinds again, she saw a tall man with a clipboard in his arm and a briefcase in the other. He didn’t scream paparazzi – he was standing rather tall for a sneaky journalist. In Amanda’s experience they hid in bushes or dressed far more unassumingly, like the demon lady from before, but this man was in a full-on suit.
‘Do you think I should answer it?’ Amanda tilted her head towards the back of the café at Kate and her other potential staff. She feared she looked like a madwoman. Why was she asking them? They had no idea of the skeletons that lurked in Amanda’s closet. Really? Amanda thought to herself. Skeletons? That’s a touch too dramatic, don’t you think? It wasn’t like she had to hide the fact that her sister was a manager to a famous rock band from potential hires, they would soon find out on opening day. So why did she feel the need to keep it from them a while longer?
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