“Yeah, I got that,” I interrupt. “And I do really like it. But in terms of using this recipe as a comp for Nashville hot chicken, I don’t think it works. It’s not fried, and the heat profile is totally different. Did you use cayenne?”
“Aleppo.”
I sigh. “I was lured here under false pretenses.”
“All right, who let her in here?” Dustin complains to no one in particular.
Brijesh mocks kicking me out, whipping a tea towel near my knees, and I back away, hands up in placation.
“That was great, guys,” says the video director as he steps away from the equipment. I wince at his implication—that we’re acting like this for show—and move toward the sink, firmly out of frame, under the pretense of washing my hands. “Let’s take five before the outro,” the director adds.
And that is my official cue to GTFO ASAP.
“Hey.” Brijesh rushes up to me, handing me a paper towel. “I know something that might make you feel better, or very much worse.”
I raise my eyebrows, shutting off the water. “Okay. I can handle it.”
“They gave the job you interviewed for to the board chairman’s son.”
In all fairness, Brijesh has never been one to mince words.
A beat of silence as it sinks in.
They gave…
The job I wanted…
To the board chairman’sson?
“You have got to be fucking joking.” My voice is deathly soft. Brijesh shakes his head. “Is that even legal?” I hiss.
“No clue. I don’t know who all knows. I got suspicious when I learned his last name.”
“Harrison?” I ask. Our board chairman is named Robert Harrison.
Brijesh nods. “New guy is Alex Harrison. He’s Korean American, biracial.”
“How do you know that? Did you already meet him?”
“Not yet, but I spent, like, two hours stalking his LinkedIn and Instagram to confirm his family connection,” Brijesh says. “I almost gave up, but then, under his tagged photos, there’s one with Robert on the Harvard alumni account from a few years back. His college graduation, I think. I’m sure they’re trying to keep the family relation on the down-low, but like, did they think no one was going to find out?”
Wait. A. Damn. Minute.
Korean American, who graduated from college a few years back?
Was Alex Harrison the guy in the elevator?
Blinking, I start to mutter, “I think I—”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Brijesh hisses. “He just came in.”
I turn on my heels, the squeak of my rubber soles mimicking the sound lodged in the back of my throat.
Sure enough, Deirdre—the cooking studio manager—is walking Elevator Man around. Giving him a goddamn tour like she’s a real estate agent onSelling Sunsetand he’s looking to spend a few million. I watch numbly as his gorgeous face lights up from the inside out. He takes in his surroundings, holding out a hand to greet the video crew as Deirdre introduces him.
He says something that makes Dustin laugh. Then he grins, justlike he did in the elevator this morning. And it’s devastating, just like it was this morning.
My blood is on fire. I am going to sink my nails into something and claw it to shreds, and it’ll probably end up being his throat. Are we seriously still giving jobs to people because of their family tree?
