I should’ve been shocked that Raya’s phone had somehow ended up in the fryer. I wasn’t. She had probably been holding it in the same hand she was also using to hold the fry basket.
I hope customers didn’t get phone fries,I texted back. Because honestly, I could see her thinking the food was somehow unaffected by the presence of a phone melting in the hot oil.
Of course they didn’t, Sutton! We shut that fryer down for the night, had it thoroughly cleaned and it will be up and running again tonight. I can do *some* things without you.
It wasn’t that I didn’t think she could… okay, I mean, nobody did it exactly the right way, but out of all the somebodies in the world, she was the only one I would ever open a business with, so there was that.
We’d met in college in an entrepreneur development class. We’d actually opened a fake restaurant for our final project.Laid out the plan so thoroughly that at the end of the semester, we’d decided that one day we were going to make it a reality. And we did.
Raya was so good at the main thing I wasn’t: marketing. She attended parties and frequented events and passed out flyers to get the word out. She made a social media page and posted almost daily… well, three times a week. I was the one scheduling deliveries and ordering food and alcohol and organizing the waitstaff and doing all the things that made the business actually function. And I was still doing those things, even from three hundred miles away. She just had to make sure she was at the back door for said deliveries.
I sent both the delivery schedule and the staff schedule for the week again.
She responded with aThank you!
Btw, Nate and I broke up last night.
My phone immediately started ringing, her name scrolling across the screen.
“I’m fine” was how I answered, sliding off the bed.
“What the hell?” she said. “Why?”
“Why am I fine? I don’t know, because I can’t think about it right now. It helps that I haven’t seen him in two weeks. It softened the blow a little.” At least that’s the reason I was telling myself this didn’t hurt as much as I thought it should’ve.
“No, why did you break up? What did he do? Did he cheat? I will kill him.”
I swallowed. “No, he didn’t.” At least I didn’t think he had. “We’ve just grown apart.”
“I always hated him anyway,” she said.
“No, you didn’t.” I straightened the comforter on the bed, pulling on each corner to smooth out the wrinkles.
“You’re right, I didn’t… and I can’t if he’s still going to talk to the meat guy for me on Tuesday. Tell me he’s still going to take care of the meat.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d forgotten about that. “Yes, it’s taken care of. You don’t have to worry about it.”
She took a deep breath. “Thank god. After that, I’ll start hating him.”
I walked to my overnight bag and pulled out my outfit, laying it over the chair. I should’ve pulled it out the night before, like I typically did, and hung it, but I hadn’t been thinking clearly last night. “You don’t have to hate him.”
“Too bad, I will.”
I gave a breathy laugh. “Fine.”
“I have to go,” she said. “This place doesn’t run itself.”
No, it didn’t. I had about a dozen calls to make and a dozen more bills to pay to make sure it continued to run.
We ended the call, and I stared at the lit screen of my phone, wishing I didn’t have to reach out to Nate. His parents ran a diner in North Hollywood, had for thirty years, so he had knowledge and contacts. Both of which I rarely called on. I had never wanted him to think I was using him. Raya and I were strong, capable women, after all, but damn, he’d negotiated a good price on filets that I didn’t want to miss out on.
Can I have your meat contact?I texted.
Is this some backhanded way of asking for a dick pic?
I’ll take one of those, too, if you’re offering.
There’s something seriously wrong with you,he texted, but he sent me the name and phone number anyway, along with the quote he’d gotten.
