Her commission.
My restaurant.
Literally anything else right now.
“The kids are right there,” I say, pointing at Gracie and Ronnie’s rugrats. Rory’s own daughter bounces in a baby swing, playing with her grandpa next to the picnic style tables. “Can you just?”
“Fine.” Rory presses her lips together, but the damage has been done. She’ll be worked up about this for a while yet.
Lucky for us, Wyatt and Ronnie finally start to make their way back to the group, both covered in tufts of grass and dirt. I think Ronnie even has some around the corners of his mouth, where it looks like it’s mostly on Wyatt’s elbows and knees. Like maybe he was holding someone down on the ground while someone else ate some of it.
I check my email, trying to get my mind off of her tirade, and my mood isn’t improved by the email that just came in, staring me in the face.
While I’ve taken the day off, Wilder apparently hasn’t.
Though, I guess if we have to share the upstairs office for the administrative parts of our jobs, I’d rather he use it when I weren’t around to be bothered by his presence.
He’s sent an email nudging the revised menu I’ve refused to meet with him about.
Enhanced menu selectionshe called it.
Snobby, I’d call it.
The email all but throws our original menu under the bus, picking it apart and finding things to hate about it. Turning it into something that feels a little too unfamiliar for me.
He keeps saying we need to make a decision this weekend so we can lock down suppliers, get our inventory and order sheets prepped, and print the final menus.
I’ve asked Google how to tell him to fuck off in a professional tone six times already, maybe it’s time I say it straight to his face. If he’s not taking corporate speak for an answer, I’ll nip his new menu in the booty real quick.
Thumbs flying furiously, I try to make it clear to him.
To: Wilder Amante
From: Heights Bites Management
Re: Suggested Menu
Dear Wilder,
After reviewing the changes you recommended, management’s decision is that Heights Bites is not some snooty New York City eatery. We are a small-town diner, with traditional staples that are appreciated by the townspeople as they are.
Management doesn’t want to disappoint them after they’ve waited so long for the restaurant to be open once again.
We will stick with the original menu.
Feel free to finalize the inventory and order sheets off of what Samuel has already given you.
Have a day,
Heights Bites Management
Rory must be intrigued by whatever my face is doing, because she butts in. Leaning over, long, sleek brown hair swaying with her, she sticks her face over my shoulder to see my phone screen.
“Working on your day off, Lex?” The flames seem to be gone from her voice, so that’s something. Maybe it’s safe to come back to the conversation.
I huff out a breath of annoyance through my nose and slam my phone facedown on the end of the bench where I won’t see it. I’m not letting this jerk ruin the rest of the summer kick-off party.
“Wilder is up my ass about finalizing the menu,” I grumble, taking a seat on the planked, wooden benches at the picnic table.
