Page 21 of Cakes for the Grump

“Right. Moving on. Roy Duncan lacks tact, but he has excellent business acumen. Will you come to this conference when I meet...the white whale?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Largely because I still have no clue what is going on, and I can’t support anything you ask me to do blindly.”

“While I can’t give you specifics, you have my word that what I’m trying to achieve isn’t nefarious.”

So he understands too. That his company is known for being bad. But can I really trust his good word about this mysterious big deal? That it’s not like that?

Whatever Luke is trying to do with his company is high stakes. I’ll be participating—no, stamping my approval on whatever takeover Luke is trying to pull off. And given the track record of Abbot Industries, that can mean anything. People losing jobs…destruction of the environment…building a mega monopoly…

Luke crosses his arms. ”What will make you change your mind?”

Unspoken is thegive me your pricepart.

My first instinct is to decline him now and forever. That would serve his superiority complex a satisfying blow to the knees. However, I also recognize the opportunity for what it is. Leverage.I shouldn’t let it go to waste. Not when I’ve been the one at a disadvantage for so long.

“First off,” I say. “You might believe in Mr. Duncan, but I don’t want this pressure on me to make a big deal of yours go through.”

“You would have no work to do, you’ll merely be?—”

“—evidence that you aren’t a robot who shuts down in a closet at the end of the night and that other humans are willing to tolerate your presence not because they are getting paid for it but out of real friendship sentimentality. Are you really so terrible that Mr. Duncan met me and immediately thought I was needed to make you—I don’t know—serviceable?”

He catches the familiar barb. I know he does because his mouth twitches.

“Look,” says Luke. “Let’s stop pretending. What do you want from me to make this happen?”

“Open access to your kitchen for my personal cooking.”

It comes out of my mouth and as soon as it does, I recognize how much Idowant that. If I move on to the following round of the competition, the next challenge can come up anywhere. And it would be of distinct advantage to compete with all the facilities of Luke’s kitchen instead of the busted, half-operating cooking space my own shoddy apartment provides.

But is Luke going to ask why I need his kitchen?

“Fine.”

Apparently not.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with your normal tasks as my meal-prep chef,”says Luke, reminding me of my position in the hierarchy of his home. “I’m okay with it.”

“Great. As a warning, that means I might be here for longer and odder hours.”

“That’s fine.”

“Also, I want another raise. Twenty percent.”

“Fifteen and don’t bother negotiating for more.”

His words are flat and final, reminding me that while I may have the upper hand right now, my opponent is powerful and highly skilled at getting what he wants.

I reluctantly nod.

Luke sighs. “Good. Then will you—and I can’t believe I am saying this and truly want to skewer myself upon a sharp instrument—come to the conference and pretend to be my friend?”

I…

No.

The voice is from my conscience. It…objects? I wonder why when I almost have everything I can want from Luke. Then a phrase flits through my mind.

At what cost?