The Accidental TV Star Read Online Free PDF

finish. He snagged grapes in one hand and slices in the other. He finished off the fruit in minutes.
    Okay. Prepare in bulk or you’ll never know his preferences. As he rose, I said, “Do you have any food allergies? Or any favorite dishes I should know about?”
    He shrugged and headed to the front door. “No need. I mostly eat out.”
    I chased after him. “Wait. What do you mean? I thought you really wanted a chef?”
    Garrett shoved a hand through his hair and frowned. “Look, don’t tell Ashley, okay—but, I don’t need a cook.”
    I stared at him and raised my eyebrows.
    “Ashley mentioned that a girl she knew needed a job. I owed Caz a favor, so I told Ashley I wanted a cook. If adding staff helps me mend my rift with Caz, it’ll be worth it.”
    His gaze fell on the empty plates on the bar. “Maybe breakfast would be okay. You can make me breakfast.” He reached for the doorknob. “I understand we’ll be working around your schedule too. Just leave the food in the fridge. I’ll find it.” With that, he slipped out.
    No way.
    I locked up behind him and leaned my forehead against the door. A wave of tiredness hit me. It was only late afternoon here, but the early flight and the time change had messed with my schedule, almost as much as Garrett had just messed with my mind. The job offer had only been semi-solid and I’d committed for the summer. I cleaned up, took a shower in my tiny new bathroom, locked myself in, and slept.
     
    ***
     
    The next day, I awakened early due to the jet lag, ready to show Garrett he did need a chef. I baked a cheesy hash brown and bacon breakfast casserole and wrote out instructions for Garrett to flash reheat it. On the bottom of the page, I scrawled my phone number and the note, “Text me, if you need additional directions. I’ve got some great ideas for dinner.” It was important to start his dependence and intrigue him with thoughts of dinner while he was hungry and vulnerable.
    Next, I started on a German chocolate cake. The recipe came from a French website, and the layered dessert was spectacular. He’d be begging me to stay when he tried it. I toasted the coconut and set out small bowls with the ingredients, but then I had to stop. With class at nine and me unfamiliar with the area, I had to go to the studio.
    I wasn’t as intimidated as I could have been because Ash’s Dad’s secretary had sent me a packet of directions. Take the bus. See routes and numbers here and here. Get off at this address. Show the guard your ID. She’d pasted colored flags and a map alongside the instructions.
    I locked the house and hiked to the bus stop at the bottom of the hill. The bus pulled up a few minutes later. With all the traffic, the drive took under an hour, and I enjoyed it as a kind of cheap tour. Palm trees and fancy billboards lined my route and everything felt exotic and strange, especially the weather: dry, cool, amazing.
    The indifferent bus driver confirmed that the white stucco entrance belonged to the film studio and I stepped off the bus. I hoped I’d get lucky enough to see a real star.
    The guard checked my ID and took a few minutes looking me up. Then he sent me to the next station where I stepped in front of a camera.
    The second guard said, “We’re ready for your close-up,” and winked at me.
    I laughed at his line and chatted with him while he created my badge. The whole thing took only a few minutes, like ID day at school. Making that mental connection made me feel more grounded.
    He gestured at a pile of maps.
    “Thanks.” I took one and headed out. The path wound past stucco office buildings, and I couldn’t fool myself. I was in LA, on a real movie lot, and was about to go to a cooking class. Two of my favorite things in the whole world, cooking and movies, collided and formed this moment. Yay.
    I got to my destination and stared at the door handle a full second before I went for it. Inside the lobby, glass cases lined the walls. Each one