Page 93 of Trust Fund Baby

I raised a brow. “A new restaurant?”

Hallie leaned in, lowering her voice like we were plotting some grand conspiracy. “Not exactly. I found something that’s far more interesting, I think. We’ll get to highlight not only food, but people.”

I sipped my latte, skeptical. “You’re being vague. Spill.”

She grinned, practically glowing with excitement. “There’s this new place uptown. It’s kind of half-food bank, half-restaurant. During the day it’s a food bank for families and people in need, then one night a week it transforms into this gorgeous, candlelit dining space. It just opened this past week.”

I blinked, taken by surprise. “That’s not what I expected, but it sounds completely unique.”

My mind was already working, thinking about the different angles and photos I could capture.

Hallie sat up straighter, her enthusiasm contagious. “Think about it. We cover good food, of course. But we make amazing stories out of the places we cover. This place is both. It’s innovative, it’s community-driven, and it’s still tied to the food scene. We can shine a light on something good.”

I traced the rim of my cup. “I’m not sure you have to work so hard to convince me,” I told her. “You had me at half-food bank and half-restaurant.”

Hallie’s smile widened, triumphant. “I knew you’d be in. I’ve already been in contact with the director. They are throwing a gala next weekend to raise money for the cause and have invited us to that as well. But they would love for us to stop by the food bank this evening. We can see the tail end of the day and the transition to the restaurant.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Of course, you’ve already started.”

“Of course I have,” she said, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You think I’d come here vibrating out of my skin for something half-baked?”

“That’s debatable.” I took another sip of my latte, enjoying the rich bitterness. “What’s the catch? You always leave the catch for last.”

Hallie tilted her head, trying her best to keep her face natural. But she and I had known each other long enough for me to tell that she was keeping something from me. “Catch?”

I gave her a flat look. “Hallie.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Rox. I’m just excited about this one. That’s all.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, but she just took an exaggeratedly innocent sip of her latte, foam clinging to her lip. “You’re a terrible liar,” I muttered.

She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, unbothered. “Again. No idea what you’re talking about, Rox.”

“I don’t believe you. But fine. When do you want to go?” I asked.

Her smile broke wide again. Probably just happy that I was going along with it. “I told them we’d be there by six tonight. Gives us just enough time to see the food bank in action before the switchover.”

I arched a brow. “So basically, now.”

Hallie had the decency to wince. “I may have already called us a cab.”

“Of course you did.” I slid out of the booth with a groan, latte still in hand. “You’re lucky I love you.”

She hooked her arm through mine as we walked toward the door. “You’ll thank me when you’re holding a Pulitzer-worthy photo of this place in your hands.”

“Well, now it makes sense why you told me to bring my camera with me.”

Hallie tugged me along through the chill of the early evening. “Exactly. And don’t worry, you’re going to have plenty of subjects. People, food, the complete transformation. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

My brow furrowed. “You act as if you already have.”

Instead of answering, Hallie dove into the cab idling on the curb, waiting for us. Come to think of it, she had been a lot busier recently. I’d assumed she was just hanging out with James, but maybe there was something else going on too.

The cab’s engine purred to life as we sped through the streets, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and white through the window. Hallie’s excitement was nearly overwhelming. So much so that I leaned forward, peering out at every passing building, imagining the story waiting for us.

I tightened my grip on my camera bag as the cab grew closer to uptown and our eventual destination. The city’s roar intensified, a symphony of honking horns and screeching brakes. A thick haze of exhaust fumes, mingled with the sweet scent of street food, filled the air. My pulse quickened with a mix of anticipation and apprehension, like it always did right before we walked through the doors of our next project. Hallie kept sneaking glances at me, her grin tugging at the corners of her mouth like she was holding back something bigger than just a pitch for our business.

“You’re staring,” I said without looking at her.