Must Date The Chef

|| 28.

"You got fired, we both did," I murmur and she nods. "So why are you going? You don't need the job, we don't need the money."

She pauses to stare right through me and I shudder. I am taller but she still manages to pull off the intimidating look. "But I need my friend. You should have listened to me."

After one final scowl, she walks out the door and I am forced to jog after her with my arm barely into my shirt. Calling out to her yields no result, I stop to catch my breath when she halts at the junction of the house. A grateful smile adorns my lips, I adjust my shirt, make a note to get Mentos for my breath and resume walking at a leisure trot.

The street is empty, it always is but if I listen closely I will be sure to hear the noises from neighbours television. We have an unspoken mind your business until I ask for help rule, one of the many reasons I chose to live here. The community spirit is almost overwhelming, a welcome change from the snobby elites of Enugu. I love living here.

I have cooked for a few of the houses on occasion. The first time was as a last-minute stand-in option for the chef who failed to show up the day Mrs Effiong, the woman who lives on the flat above mine, was having her granddaughter's naming ceremony.

My culinary skills have gone viral since then, all thanks to her. It's how I spend most of my off day which I make sure falls on a weekend and also get cool cash. A ghost of a smile crosses my lips at the reminder of Ifunaya's query, I wonder what thoughts went through her mind before I put her out of her misery. She stresses her pretty head too much by overthinking but I guess that's how she landed herself the role of a hotel manager at such a young age. Ify. My Ify.

Being a chef pays better than a lot of people realise, you grow connections and meet new people. I never tire to see the hosts faces when they see the cook is a handsome male who charges cheap. Left to me, I won't accept any form of payment but to avoid questions or suspicions, I always do.

The acknowledgements and praises always come first, the flirting comes last with a promise of a recommendation. If the host is older, they will try to set me up with their single daughters. Too bad for them, I already have a partner, they will have to get past my babe first for that to ever happen.

A cab stops in front of Chi, my beloved sister gives me the middle finger, slips into the car which zooms off immediately. I stand there in shock and surprise, unsure of how to react. It has been so long we had a fight of this magnitude, we are almost alike when it comes to how we react in angry situations but once she snaps, you have to be wary.

Hell hath no fury like an angry sister.

Cars drive past me without a glance until a black Camry slows to a halt in front of me. The window rolls down and I can't help laughing when I sight who it is. Chike; the first guy I met when I packed in. He claims I am the reason he got his new girlfriend, I helped improve his kitchen skills. Girls seem to love the idea of dating a man who can cook. I don't get it, he doesn't get it either but it helped him get his woman.

The passenger door opens before he says, "Good morning. Where are you going?"

"Work," I reply as I settle in. He has dropped me a few times so he knows the way but it feels odd saying work, I have no job right now. "Good morning. How was your night?" I ask and he offers a nonchalant response.

Ifunaya's face bursts into my mind, I smile sadly and look out the window, grateful he is also not in a conversational mood. I wanted her alone to myself for a few more months, away from my family drama which is certain to come once they find out about my love life. There is no hiding from those people, not with Chi, my fraternal twin who thinks she knows what's best for me.