Page 113 of Never To Be Mine

He placed the order, then grabbed his keys and headed for the door. “Back in ten. Don’t move.”

I grunted something noncommittal and watched him go. True to his word, he was back in under fifteen minutes, carrying two bags of food and wearing the kind of self-satisfied grin that usually meant he’d done something ridiculous.

“Delivery guy was parked at the end of the street,” he announced as he set the bags on the table between the chairs. “I jogged down there like a lunatic waving my arms so he wouldn’t come any closer. Pretty sure he thinks I’m unhinged.”

I snorted despite myself. “You are unhinged.”

“Worked though.” He unpacked the containers, steam rising when he popped the lids. The smell of garlic and chili filled the air, and my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten anything substantial since yesterday. We ate in relative silence for a while, the only sounds the occasional clink of forks and the low hum of the ocean.

Micah didn’t push the conversation again. He just sat there, occasionally passing me more napkins or stealing a piece of my chicken, like my life wasn’t currently on fire. By the time we finished, things felt less end-of-the-worldish. Not settled, not even close, but enough that I could breathe.

He gathered the trash, clapped me on the shoulder once, and headed out with a quiet, “Call me if you need anything.”

I stayed on the deck and contemplated my next steps. I wasn’t going to let a bunch of internet warriors stop something I’d been working way too hard on. There had to be an angle I hadn’t considered before.

My phone buzzed with an email notification. I almost ignored it, but something made me look. The sender was listed as “Curly’s Corporate Communications.”

My first instinct was to delete it. They were probably pissed at me too for some reason. But curiosity got the better of me, and I opened it. I read through the email and laughed bitterly.

Thank you so much for your patronage! We at Curly’s see this as an incredible opportunity for both of our brands. The publicity has been enormous, and we believe we could capitalize on this moment by bringing you on as a spokesperson. We’d love to discuss the possibility of a partnership.

They wanted me to be their spokesperson. They wanted to turn this disaster into a promotional opportunity. They wanted to use me to sell their processed garbage while I stood in the ashes of my own business.

I started typing an angry response, my fingers flying over the keyboard.

Thanks for reaching out, fuck nuggets, but I’m not interested in promoting food that makes people sick. My business is built on actually helping people, not⁠—

I stopped mid-sentence.

Wait.

An idea began to form. A wild, potentially disastrous idea that might be the only way to salvage this mess.

I deleted the angry message and typed a new one. I hit send before I could second-guess myself. Their response was fast. Curly’s rep could meet at three o’clock at their corporate office in LA. Perfect.

I looked at the time. That gave me an hour to prepare.

I called Toby.

“Hey, man,” he said when he answered. “How are you holding up?”

“I need you to meet me at the office in thirty minutes. Bring your camera equipment.”

“What’s going on?”

“I have a plan. It’s either going to fix everything or make it so much worse. But as they say, if you’re walking through hell, keep walking.”

“Those are my favorite kind of plans.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “I’ll be there.”

I hung up and headed to my car. Twenty minutes later, I was at the B Well facility, loading a cooler with a dozen of our plant-based burgers. Toby showed up as I was securing the cooler in my trunk.

“Okay, I’m here,” he said, pulling his camera bag from his car. “Want to tell me what we’re doing?”

“We’re going to Curly’s corporate office.”

His eyebrows shot up. “The company that’s trending because of you?”

“The very same. They offered me a spokesperson deal.”