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I hang up and look up at Evan, knowing he won’t like what I have to say. We had a financial planning session scheduled for this afternoon. (Can’t say I’m sorry to be getting out of that.)
“I know you’re not happy with me, but you know my dad. He’s stubborn; either I cover for him or he’ll kill himself going to work just to avoid shutting down Joe’s even for a single day.”
Evan sighs, resigned.
“Anything urgent before I go?”
My COO hugs himself. “No. Apex called, though. The sponsorship award is between us and another company; they’ll give us the final decision by tomorrow.”
I nod and quickly gather my things. “Okay, I’ll check my email as soon as I’m done at Joe’s. And Evan?” He looks down at me. “Sorry about canceling on you today. We’ll reschedule for next week, yeah?”
Evan nods, a small smile on his lips.
I rush upstairs and ask Tilly to have the Aston Martin brought around while I shower. I could take a cab, but I feel like driving today.
* * *
I arrive at Joe’s a few minutes after opening time. Tim, the pizza guy, has already let himself in, but the front door is still closed to customers with a small line forming outside.
I street-park the Aston Martin, getting a few raised eyebrows, and strut toward the crowd, greeting the patrons.
“Morning, everyone! Sorry for the delay. My dad had a little health issue this morning, but I’m here now. Let’s get started!” I say, beaming at the hungry customers.
I unlock the door and let them in. I enter the kitchen to drop my bag in the back, inhaling the scent of fresh dough and tomato sauce. I put on a white apron while talking to Tim. “Change of plans today; I’ll be manning the ship.”
I explain the situation with my dad and then ask what the day’s special is.
“Sausage.”
“Okay, perfect.” I tie the apron behind my back and grab a notepad. I can’t remember a thousand drink and food orders at the same time like my dad does.
As I start taking orders, I almost feel sixteen again. There’s something about the fast-paced environment of a restaurant that is both exhilarating and calming. But I don’t have much time to reflect through the lunch rush hour. I have tables to serve, to-go orders to fulfill, while also working the register. Things slow down in the afternoon only to pick back up again toward the evening.
I’m balancing four large pizza plates in my hands when my phone rings in the pocket of my apron. I drop the plates to the right table and just about manage to pick up before the line goes silent.
“Hey, Marissa, what’s up?”
“Are you down for a drink tonight? I need a shoulder to cry on.”
“Oh? What’s happened?”
“Nothing serious, just a bad date.”
I shift the phone between my ear and shoulder as I ring the cash register for a couple. “I can’t do drinks, but I can feed you. I’m at Joe’s.” I explain the situation and then ask, “Unless you already ate on the date?”
“No, he skipped town before we made it to dinner. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
When my best friend arrives, she finds me a total mess.
My once-white apron is stained with tomato sauce, flour, and who knows what else. My hair is pulled back into a messy bun, with strands of baby hair escaping all over the place. Except for the side where I accidentally greased over it with sausage fat while I was cleaning a skillet. It’d make John Travolta’s Elephant Trunk hairstyle in Grease pale in comparison.
But Marissa doesn’t seem to mind; she pulls me into a tight hug before taking a seat at the bar.
I put a regular pie in front of her because I know she doesn’t care for sausage or pepperoni, alongside a Coke. “So tell me all about this date from hell.”
Marissa groans. “Ugh, it was terrible. He seemed nice enough at first, but then I followed your advice.”
I raise my eyebrows questioningly; I don’t remember giving her dating advice.
