“Yeah,” I tell him, “but it’s not just about that. With me as executive, you’ll have the regulars and you’ll get solid reviews, but with Wilks, you’ll get something more. You’ll get an innovator and I’m willing to bet you $10,000 that if you give him enough room to do what he wants to do, this place is going to be packed every night from here until you retire a wealthy, wealthy man.”
“You’ll be down something like $60,000 a year,” Jim says. “Are you sure you’re okay with that? I mean, why not just go somewhere else and do the executive thing there?”
“Because I’d rather stick with something that I love,” I tell him.
“I can’t just fire Cannon, though,” Jim says. “He’s been here as long as you have.”
“Yeah, but he’s worthless. I’m actually good at what I do and you were ready to let me go.”
Jim chuckles. “Is he really that bad?”
“He’s terrible,” I answer. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I have to have him redo a dish before it’s anywhere near good enough to send out.”
“And why is it that you didn’t tell me about that before tonight?”
“I figured that if you were going to try and replace me with someone, it’d be the sous chef. As long as that’s Cannon, I never really felt like I had anything to worry about. He’s never been a threat.”
“So, I’m just supposed to believe that all this is genuine and you’ve suddenly turned benevolent because a blowjob in a parking lot made you realize that there was more to life than screwing people over?”
I laugh. “Well, when you put it that way, anything’s going to come across suspect.”
“And you’re not yanking my chain about taking a massive pay cut?”
“If it’ll help get things turned around, then that’s what we need to do. When Wilks starts bringing in the hordes, you can always give me a raise.”
Jim scoffs.
“That must have been one life-changing blowjob,” he says. “All right, we’ll do it. I’ll let Cannon know at the end of his shift, and we’ll get Wilks started tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I tell him and walk to the door. “You might want to make sure you tell Cannon outside the restaurant. He’s one of those predators that plays victim until someone really calls him on his shit. That’s when he explodes like a toddler’s diaper and all the shit starts oozing out.”
“Thanks for the visual, Dane,” Jim says, smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
For the first time since I can remember, I leave the restaurant in a good mood. I don’t mean to screw over Cannon, but the guy is pretty fucking useless on pretty much every level imaginable.
Oh well.
Now, I get to go home and do something I’ve been trying to convince myself I didn’t want to do.
Tonight, I’m going to tell Leila that I want to be with her.
I get to tell Leila that I’m single again—though, I’ll probably leave off the “again”—and that I want to see if there’s anything between her and I other than this growing hot pull in my chest.
The funny thing is that I still don’t really know her all that well, but what I do know is enough for the certainty that I want to know more.
I can’t wait.
First thing’s first, though: I’ve got to drop off the car.
That process takes over an hour as the moron at the front desk can’t find the paperwork. Finally, he checks the open file that’s been right in front of him at least as long as I’ve been standing here, and we get it all taken care of.
The guy lets me call a cab, and I’m on my way home now, nervous, but feeling for the first time in a long time that I might just be onto something amazing.
I climb the stairs and imagine the worst possible scenarios.
Most people would tell me to be optimistic right now, but every time I’ve gone into something with high hopes, those hopes are dashed in the most horrendous way possible, so right now, I’m imagining her screaming at me, calling me an asshole and a womanizer, telling me that I’m never going to be anything more to her than a rent check.
I can’t help the fact that I’m still smiling.
When I get to the door, I take a breath and take one final moment to imagine her hitting me over the head with a frying pan and kicking me in the ribs while I’m lying on the floor.
If my inverse-square law of hope has any validity, that thought should seal the deal.
I unlock the door and open it to find Leila and some guy sitting on the couch, making out.
I should probably clear my throat or say something, as neither one seems to have noticed my arrival, but I can’t do anything.
It’s been about an hour and a half since I decided I want to throw caution into the death machine and make the move to be with Leila, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen her with someone.
Inverse-square law my ass.
I try to slowly back out of the door and leave the two in peace so, hopefully, they never know I was even here, but of course, that’s when my phone rings.
Leila and the guy who was trying to swallow her face jerk and look over at me while I fumble for my phone.
“Dane!” Leila spits. “When did you get in?”
“Just a second ago,” I tell her, still trying to pull the stupid fucking phone from my pocket. “I’m just going to take this outside,” I tell them both, finally, and walk back out the door, closing it behind me.
Once outside, I finally get the phone wrested from my pocket and look at the number.
It’s Wrigley.
This should be interesting.
“Yeah?”
“Dane,” she says, “I need to fuck someone and it needs to be now. You’re not mad at—”
“I’m on my way,” I tell her.
I was off to such a fresh start.
Chapter Eleven
The Favor
Leila
“Mike,” I tell him, “we can’t do this. You’re my best friend in the world, and I don’t want things to get weird.”
“Who says they have to get weird?” he asks. “I’m not talking about changing anything about our relationship. I just want to know if I’m really that bad of a kisser.”
“It’s weird just talking about it,” I tell him. “I’m sure you’re a fine kisser. Can we leave it at that?”
“I guess,” he says and turns back toward the television.
I know what he’s asking, and I know he’s really not trying to pull one over on me, but stilclass="underline" Mike is way too good a friend to even take a false step down that road. If things went pear-shaped between us, I don’t know what I’d do.
For a very long time, Mike is all that I’ve had.
Then Dane came along, but I can’t even think about that right now.
He’s off somewhere with that skank with the ridiculous name.
That’s all right. He doesn’t owe me anything; we’re roommates. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.
“You know I’d do it for you,” he says.
“That’s because you’re a freak, Mike,” I laugh and jab him with my elbow. “Just watch the movie and keep it in your pants, will you?”
“I never said I was going to take anything out of my pants, although I see where your mind is.”
He can be such a child sometimes.
“All right,” I tell him. “If I kiss you once and give you notes, will you drop it and never ask me to do anything like that again? I mean it. This is awkward enough as it is. We’re not going to start some weird sex clinic—”
“Easy there, girl,” he says, somehow thinking that talking to me like I’m a horse is going to help his cause. “I’m just talking about a kiss—one kiss. Give me some notes on how I can do better and we won’t even talk about it again.”
“No tongue,” I tell him.
“Oh bull,” he says. “How am I supposed to know if I’m doing it all right if you don’t let me slip you a little tongue?”
“Eww…” my body involuntarily shivers, and my eyes start to water like I’m stuck in a sewage pipe.