Page 4 of The Broken Heart Playlist
Kate:Occupation?
Tess:Some sort of business consultant. And he’s single!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Kate:Why all the unnecessary exclamation points?
Tess:It’s so exciting!!!!!!!!
Kate:Stop.
Tess:Can I use emojis instead?
Kate:No.
Tess:One day I’ll explain FUN to you.
Kate:You’re giving me a headache.
Tess:Funny, Aaron says the same thing.
Kate:What’s the common denominator?
Tess:Headaches?
Kate:You!
Tess:Ooh, look at you go with the exclamation point!
CHAPTER THREE
“I want you to make this burger look magnificent,” says the client, a short, ruddy-faced man who’s doused himself in so much spicy cologne I have to breathe through my mouth.
He points to the saddest-looking excuse for a burger I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Joel, the photographer, pulls his lips between his teeth, containing his laugh. Now I know why he recommended me for this particular shoot. A miracle is needed here.
When I stay silent, studying the burger, the client, whose name I’ve already forgotten, asks again, “Well, can you do it? Can you transform this burger into a masterpiece?”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. “I can.”
“Kate’s one of the best food stylists in the industry,Phil,” Joel assures him, subtly reminding me of the client’s name. I flick him a grateful smile, my first genuine smile of the day. Joel’s worked with me before and knows what I’m like with names.
Realizing I won’t get away with my forgetfulness a second time, I apply a trick my grandmother taught me to remember a name. Word association. Let’s see, Phil the Pill. It feels a little mean, but at least I won’t forget his name anytime soon.
We’re standing in Phil’s restaurant kitchen. I managed to drop Lisset off at school on time and now, for the next couple of hours, I’ll be working with Joel on a print photo shoot for Phil’s flagging restaurant chain.
I like working with Joel. He’s an excellent photographer, calm and patient. He’s also better at interacting with clients,which helps to take the pressure off me. While my language is food, his is light. We work well together because neither of us favors small talk and we don’t haul our egos to a shoot.
Joel’s biggest disadvantage, though, is his appearance. With his shoulder-length dark hair and dark eyes, he’s ridiculously handsome. I’ve had female assistants, art directors, and even clients tongue-tied and clumsy in his presence, which he finds amusing and I find disruptive. A small scar on his cheekbone only adds to his mystery. He’s never explained the scar and I’ve never asked him about it. We’re both silent regarding our pasts. All I know is, some scars are visible, while others are hidden.
Abruptly, Phil snaps his fingers, as if recalling something. “Kate Miller, that’s right. They call youThe Magician.”
They call me a lot of other names too, not all of them complimentary. For today, though, I’ll accept this one, particularly if it reinforces the myth and lore around food styling.
Phil continues talking, which, honestly, is one of the more tedious aspects of my job, the client explaining to me in twenty minutes what could easily be conveyed in ten.
I answer Phil’s questions while I pull the tools I’ll need from my food styling bag. Lisset calls it my Mary Poppins bag and she’s not wrong. My extensive kit contains everything I need to create magic.
“Run me through what’s in your burger,” I say to Phil. After he’s listed the ingredients, I ask, “Are they all in the kitchen?”
