It would also mean pizza for dinner, something I wasn’t opposed to in the least.
“See you soon,” I said, and we hung up.
I had about two hours before I had to leave and used the time to put the rest of my groceries away and clean the house.
After a quick check in the mirror to make sure my long hair that now had bright-pink tips—thanks to a drunken hair-dyeing incident—was somewhat tamed, I stepped out of my apartment.
Washington was freezing in winter, and Ferguson was next to the water, dialing the temperature down to one level above trying to kill you. Though it was only the end of fall, it was already pretty chilly outside, but it was only a short walk to the restaurant, and I was wrapped in enough layers to not let the cold wind get to me.
“I’m almost done,” Quinn greeted me when I stuck my head through the door that led to the kitchen and waved at her. “Make yourself comfortable. Your pizza is almost done.”
“You’re the best,” I answered, unwinding my scarf from around my neck.
She grinned at me from behind the counter, where she had at least ten pizzas in various stages of completion. “I know.”
I dragged a barstool from the hallway out into the restaurant and in front of the long wooden bar before planting my ass on it.
The place was as packed as ever. I realized early on that if I didn’t want to eat standing up, I had to get creative, so I found the ugliest barstool known to mankind at one of the garage sales Quinn dragged me to every weekend. Since nobody would touch it in fear of catching an unpronounceable disease, I now always had a chair. The only rule was that I wasn’t allowed to leave it in the restaurant when I wasn’t there.
It really was that ugly, its neon-green seat peppered with bright-pink pigs smoking cigarettes. But it was surprisingly comfortable, and I had no shame when it came to getting a seat.
I was busy worshipping my fourth slice of pizza when Quinn appeared next to me. “Where’s Mom?”
“Mateo said she had to run out to get red wine because there was an issue with the order.”
Quinn groaned. “Not again. I swear the new guy is useless. Not once has he gotten any of our wine orders right.”
“I didn’t know you had someone new start.”
“He’s a third cousin twice removed. And Dad is a sucker for family, so he just hired him without asking for references or experience.”
I chuckled. That sounded exactly like Alonso. He had the biggest heart of anyone I knew, and if he thought someone needed help, he was the first one to reach out a hand.
“He’ll learn.”
“He better,” Quinn growled and slumped against the bar next to me.
I nudged her. “Busy night?”
She had dark circles under her eyes, and her usually sleek black bob was sticking up every which way.
“Busy month. Some blogger came in and gave us five out of five stars. Apparently, there’d only ever been two other restaurants to get that many stars. And she has a huge following, which turned an already busy restaurant into a madhouse.”
“You ever think about opening a second location?”
Quinn raised a brow at me. “Dad would never agree. But I’d love to.”
I put my arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “I’m almost done. By the time you get changed, I’ll be ready to go.”
“Sounds perfect.” She sighed and left me to my food.
Quinn was back as I was finishing my last slice of pizza.
“Let’s go before Mom gets back and remembers I was supposed to take out the trash.”
I slid off my barstool and stashed it back in its hiding place. “You working tomorrow?”
“Unfortunately, yes. So I’m on a two-drink limit,” Quinn pouted.
