“You realize I win either way, right? If I sell out, I win. If I don’t sell out, you lose, which means I win.”
“And once again, we’re down to the terms of the bet. What are you prepared to offer me when you lose?”
She’s once again shaking her head at me. “Best I can do is cook for you.”
I squint at her. “Why am I suddenly craving risotto?”
That smile.
She knows something I don’t.
“If you win, I’ll tell you why you want risotto.AndI’ll make it for you.”
“And if you win, I’ll buy out the rest of your ingredients for the day and cook you burgers at my place.”
She sticks her hand out of the bus. “Deal.”
I shake. “Deal.”
And then I hop inside her bus, which is approximately the temperature of the furnaces of Hell. “How on earth do you work in this environment?”
She grins at me and adjusts a fan so that it’s blowing in my direction.
It moderately helps.
“You know how to take orders?” she asks me.
I straighten and aim a haughty glare at her. “I beg your pardon. I’ll have you know I was a starving actor for well over fifteen years. What do you think?”
She cracks up as she points me to the tablet and card reader hanging in special containers by the window. “But are you young enough to adapt if the technology is different from what you’re used to?”
I mock gasp, which sets her into another peal of laughter.
Well worth taking the digs to see her smiling and laughing.
I unhook the tablet and make a quick study of the app, then order myself a burger and fries.
“You can’t cheat by ordering it all yourself,” she tells me from the prep line behind me.
“Those were not in our terms.”
“They are now.”
“Fine. Are we done with terms?”
She turns and looks at me.
I keep a straight face.
Iama trained actor, after all. I could theoretically straight-face her all day.
“What else are you up to?” she asks.
“Why would you think I was up to something?”
“You have a look.”
“I most certainly do not.”
