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Deb took the lead, and I followed closely behind her as my heart thrashed like a drummer going hardcore during his solo. There were no signs of the fancy guests on the street, so I assumed that meant they were already inside. As Patrick’s cobblestone driveway came into view, we noticed Daniel’s four-wheel drive parked in front of the gate with the boot open. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and, surprisingly, didn’t look bad at all.
‘Just on time, ladies,’ he said, glancing at his oversized, golden G-Shock watch.
‘What should we do first?’ Deb asked with a confident expression plastered on her face.
‘Walk around with platters and serve all of Patrick’s guests.’
‘Where’s the food?’ I asked.
‘Already inside.’ Daniel shut his boot and hopped into the driver’s seat. The scent of new leather came wafting our way.‘I’m going to find a park. I’ll be back shortly. Go inside. Patrick is expecting you.’ He dismissed us with a flick of his hand.
As soon as Daniel said those words, my throat tightened and I could barely swallow.Why am I so damn nervous?
Deb took one look at my face and could tell I was freaking out. She’d known me way too long.
‘Naomi, what’s going on? I haven’t seen you this nervous in ages. Come on. It will be fine. It’s just a function at some insanely rich person’s house.’
I nodded, took a deep breath, and braced myself. Deb strode over to the gated entry and punched in the pin code. The gates slid open, revealing a gigantic mansion that was bigger than all the others on the street. The house was encased in stonework the colour of pizza dough. As we walked up the driveway, the sound of cascading water caught our attention. On the right side, just before the front entrance, was a lion’s head water fountain, like something you would see in Italy.
We walked to the ornate, glass-panelled double doors. Deb pressed the doorbell, and while we waited for someone to answer, I smoothed my dress down repeatedly.
Moments later, a stunning, Italian-looking woman opened the door. She had pale olive skin, brown almond eyes, plump red lips, and supermodel legs. I stared in awe at her outfit: a black, short-sleeved mini dress with white lace up the sides, paired with white, classic, studded Valentino pumps.Is this Patrick’s girlfriend? Holy smokes.
‘You must be the caterers. Come this way,’ the woman said in a welcoming tone. Her voice was peppered with an Italian accent.
Her golden-brown ponytail swished from side to side as she walked us across the plush, red Persian rug. Underneath the rug was a white marble floor. As we entered the gigantic kitchen, an expansive view of the glistening Noosa canals greeted us through the glass doors. Above the main kitchen counter was a longskylight, brightening the space with the remainder of the late-afternoon sun. For a moment, I wished I was a guest so that I could admire the intricate furnishings that looked imported from overseas and the view.Wow.
‘Here are the trays.’ She pointed to the polished wooden trays on top of the marble benchtop. ‘Which one of you did the cooking?’ She observed our faces, awaiting our answers.
‘Me,’ I answered, my voice rasping. ‘I did the pizzas and the salmon filos.’ I cleared my throat with an awkward ‘hem’ sound.
‘Fabulous work. Mastering pizza crust and pastry is an art,’ she said with an impressed smile.
I smiled in return, not sure of what to say. Patrick’s girlfriend knew her food, and I was glad she approved of mine.
‘Well, I’m going to attend to the guests. Daniel should be back shortly. So, prepare the trays, and let me know if you need to know anything.’
‘Okay, thanks.’ Deb nodded.
We arranged the trays with salmon filos on one plate and pizza on the other.
A few minutes later, Daniel walked in and gestured for us to move the trays aside. ‘Come on. Start serving. We don’t want the food getting cold. I’ll plate up the spring rolls and sauce.’
We carefully carried the trays into the lounge room, where all the guests were socialising. Patrick’s house was packed with people all dressed glamorously, and I couldn’t have felt more out of place if I tried. I was the Mazda in a room full of Bentleys. He even had a pianist playing classical music on a white grand piano in the corner of the room. Fancy, alright. There were at least one hundred guests stylishly chatting away.
We moved around the room, offering our food to guests. From the speed at which the trays emptied, and the looks on their faces, we were a hit. I felt myself calming down a bit andeven began to enjoy myself. Maybe waitressing for fancy people wasn’t so bad after all.
My eyes scanned the room for Patrick, but I couldn’t see him.
Hmm. I wonder where he is.
Just as I was making my way through the throng back to the kitchen to top up the trays with Deb, a man caught my eye.Oh my God. It was him…Patrick Vitello …My heart skipped a beat as he approached us. He wore a plain red jacket paired with a white shirt underneath and matching red pants. The first two buttons were undone, which allowed his smooth olive chest to peep through. His eyes were even greener in person, and I noticed he had both ears pierced. Two gold hoops hung from his earlobes and glinted as they caught the light. His eyes alone were enough to send goosebumps all over anyone’s skin.Jesus Christ, how does such a beautiful creature exist?
He gave us a nod and flashed his white teeth as he turned towards the crowded room. A trail of cologne wafted past: a warm, spicy, leathery scent. It was intoxicating.
A lady who looked to be in her early sixties, dressed in a flowing, peacock-blue kaftan, stopped Patrick in his tracks. Her gold-rimmed spectacles complemented her heart-shaped face. Everything about her exuded a cultivated vibe, including her backcombed bun, which was evidently done by a team of professionals.
She looked him up and down with pursed lips, then said in a faint Italian accent, ‘Patrizio, why do I bother hiring a tailor to style you for your birthday when you can’t even wear what he suggests?’ She shook her head before continuing. ‘Where is your silk bowtie?’
