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What if the food critic is a lie too?
Could it be true? Could he be lying about the magazine article and they're all in on it?
I feel like a damn fool. How could I not see this for myself? I'm fresh out of school. I have no experience in the restaurant field at all. I've never even waited tables before. Obviously, Cheryl would be the shoe-in if a food critic were visiting.
This is just a game, and I'm the only one wearing a blindfold.
I'm crying so hard my chest hurts. I need to talk to my brother. I need to find out why he would do this to me? Why give me this false confidence?
Cheryl is still smiling as I dig my phone out of my purse and try to call my brother. His phone goes right to voicemail. I try again. Then I try again. I call his phone almost ten times, but it goes to his voicemail each time.
Shit, Tom! Why the hell is your phone off?
Throwing my phone back into my purse, Cheryl chuckles. I give her an angry glare as my lips turn razor sharp.
“Why are you telling me this anyway? Wouldn't you get more out of it to watch me from behind the curtains?”
She shrugs her shoulder, her smile never fading. “I thought about that, but this, this right here, this is why.”
I'm so angry I'm ready to punch her in that stupid face of hers. My hands ball at my sides, and the tears become hot as boiling water as they sizzle down my cheeks. “You're a fucking asshole.”
“I might be an asshole, but at least I'm not an ignorant little girl. You should be thanking me. While they're laughing behind your back, at least I had the guts to tell you to your face.”
“You find this funny. You're getting some kind of sick pleasure out of this.”
“Maybe, but it doesn't make you anything less than a hooker chef.”
Screw this. I don't need it. I don't need any of it.
I snatch my stuff off the rack and storm down to Monroe's office. He's still in the back, but I'm not even going to waste my time. I pull a piece of paper from the printer and grab a pen off his desk.
If he thinks he can just play me this way, if he thinks for one second I'm just going to stand here like a fool, he's wrong.
Putting ink to paper, I tell him exactly what I plan to do. Leaving the paper on his desk, I walk right past Cheryl, through the kitchen, and out the front door.
I'm better than this. I don't need any fucking handouts.
9
Monroe
Monroe,
I thought this was my chance to make something of myself. I thought that working here was the perfect job. I thought that all my dreams were coming true, and everything I never really knew I wanted was falling at me feet. I was wrong. I was blind to the truth.
I'm going to make this easy on both of us. I quit. . .
I can't even finish reading her letter. I crumble the paper up into a ball and throw it in the trash. What the hell happened? What went wrong?
I push back from the desk and rub my temples. This doesn't make any sense.
Things were going good, great actually. So why is she walking away? Why is she abandoning this job? Why is she choosing to abandon us?
“Everything all right, Monroe?” Cheryl asks. There's a note of concern in her voice, but it doesn't sound real. It's fake, just like her smiles and laugh. It's not hard to see, she's terrible at playing pretend.
“No, everything's not all right. Arisa just quit.”
“She quit? Really? But why?”
This girl can't lie for shit. She doesn't give a rat's ass about Arisa.
My eyes steady on hers for a moment. Reading her, trying to figure out what she knows. But I'm not the type of guy who's going to play the telephone game. I want to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.
“I don't know, but I'm going to find out.” Pressing my hands against my knees, I stand up, and grab my keys off the desk.
I'm halfway to the door when she asks, “Wait, you're going right now? But—”
“This can't wait. I need to talk to her. She needs to tell me this herself, not through a note. I won't let her do this without hearing it for myself.”
She grabs my arm and walks with me. “I'm sure she has her reasons. But does it really matter? She left, she walked out, and you don't tolerate that, remember?”
I flick my eyes down to her and tug my arm free. “I can change the rules any time I want. I'm the boss.” Shoving the door open, I hop into my car and start it up.
