Page 37
Story: Selfie
You did. And is it handled?
Me
Mr. Hatcher, surely you have more important things to do than micromanage me.
Bosshole
I’m a very hands-on boss.
I wish he were here so he could see the expression on my face. His glaring hypocrisy is impressive, really. I’m trying to think of the perfect witty reply. I don’t want to poke the bear and cause a full-on attack. What’s the sassy equivalent of giving a grizzly the middle finger?
Before I can think of the perfect reply, my phone rings. I actually drop to my knees on my kitchen tile thanking every god imaginable for Dex’s name flashing across the screen.
“Hey, Dex. Thanks for calling.”
“Of course. Is this a good time, or I can call back?”
“It’s a perfect time. Why?”
“You sound out of breath. Are you working out?”
I snort at the idea. “Definitely not. The breathlessness you’re hearing is from the rage-induced panic attack I’ve been having since ten this morning.”
“Oh… Wait, what? Have you gone to the doctor, because?—”
“It was a joke, Dex. I’m fine. I think… Actually, whether or not I’m fine is highly reliant on why you’re calling. None of my other leads panned out.”
I trill my fingers nervously against the hard floor, praying for good news.
“I have good news and bad news,” Dex says.
“You sure it’s not good news, and then slightly less good news?”
He laughs. “No, definitely a good-news-bad-news situation. Do you know the chef Tansy Haleen?”
Tansy, Tansy…so familiar.“Jog my memory?”
“She’s the chef that cooks with pink pots and pans. She has her own show on Food Network, and she’s a guest judge on?—”
“Gah! Yes,Final Cut.” I love that cooking competition. There’s something about enjoying extreme stress when it’s not your own. All the competitors onFinal Cuthave to cook with unconventional mystery food items that they can’t see until the clock starts ticking. Brilliantly evil, especially when the surprise items are alive. One poor sap got his eye poked by a lobster. He cooked an entire four-course meal half-blinded, and they still eliminated him in the final round.Savage.
“Tansy and I go way back. She helps plan the menu for some of the fine-dining restaurants on our ships. I reached out and she got back to me.”
“Yes! Amazing. Tansy will be perfect.”
“She’s in France right now and can’t get back in time.”
“Dammit,” I grumble.
“But she’s actually opening a brand-new restaurant right on the Strip.”
“Great! I mean, that’s a start at least?—”
“It’s not open yet.”
I let out a shaky exhale through gritted teeth. “You’re really playing with my emotions over here, Dex.”And my blood pressure.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ll get to the point. I can’t get you a celebrity chef in time for tomorrow night, but Tansy said her restaurant’s soft opening is next week. The kitchen is fully operational and mostly stocked. It’s yours if you can find someone.”
Me
Mr. Hatcher, surely you have more important things to do than micromanage me.
Bosshole
I’m a very hands-on boss.
I wish he were here so he could see the expression on my face. His glaring hypocrisy is impressive, really. I’m trying to think of the perfect witty reply. I don’t want to poke the bear and cause a full-on attack. What’s the sassy equivalent of giving a grizzly the middle finger?
Before I can think of the perfect reply, my phone rings. I actually drop to my knees on my kitchen tile thanking every god imaginable for Dex’s name flashing across the screen.
“Hey, Dex. Thanks for calling.”
“Of course. Is this a good time, or I can call back?”
“It’s a perfect time. Why?”
“You sound out of breath. Are you working out?”
I snort at the idea. “Definitely not. The breathlessness you’re hearing is from the rage-induced panic attack I’ve been having since ten this morning.”
“Oh… Wait, what? Have you gone to the doctor, because?—”
“It was a joke, Dex. I’m fine. I think… Actually, whether or not I’m fine is highly reliant on why you’re calling. None of my other leads panned out.”
I trill my fingers nervously against the hard floor, praying for good news.
“I have good news and bad news,” Dex says.
“You sure it’s not good news, and then slightly less good news?”
He laughs. “No, definitely a good-news-bad-news situation. Do you know the chef Tansy Haleen?”
Tansy, Tansy…so familiar.“Jog my memory?”
“She’s the chef that cooks with pink pots and pans. She has her own show on Food Network, and she’s a guest judge on?—”
“Gah! Yes,Final Cut.” I love that cooking competition. There’s something about enjoying extreme stress when it’s not your own. All the competitors onFinal Cuthave to cook with unconventional mystery food items that they can’t see until the clock starts ticking. Brilliantly evil, especially when the surprise items are alive. One poor sap got his eye poked by a lobster. He cooked an entire four-course meal half-blinded, and they still eliminated him in the final round.Savage.
“Tansy and I go way back. She helps plan the menu for some of the fine-dining restaurants on our ships. I reached out and she got back to me.”
“Yes! Amazing. Tansy will be perfect.”
“She’s in France right now and can’t get back in time.”
“Dammit,” I grumble.
“But she’s actually opening a brand-new restaurant right on the Strip.”
“Great! I mean, that’s a start at least?—”
“It’s not open yet.”
I let out a shaky exhale through gritted teeth. “You’re really playing with my emotions over here, Dex.”And my blood pressure.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ll get to the point. I can’t get you a celebrity chef in time for tomorrow night, but Tansy said her restaurant’s soft opening is next week. The kitchen is fully operational and mostly stocked. It’s yours if you can find someone.”
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