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Do I know how to handle a business? No. No, I do not.

And I never even thought about the fact that rich people might hire me.

Mr. Jack cocks his head but doesn’t speak for a few beats.

I clear my throat. “Sooo…” I start, rubbing my sweaty palms discreetly on my dress, under the table. I take in the space and realize we are in a private room of this luxury restaurant. There is a single door behind Mr. Jack with a small circular window in the center.

This restaurant is one I had applied to multiple times. One which I never even got an interview for.

“Miss Cinnamon, rest assured this is a safe location and our conversation will not spread to any ears. We can speak openly here.” Mr. Jack narrows his eyes. “What all do you need?”

I think on that; I do have a small list compiled in my head. “Who—I mean, who will I be c—”

Mr. Jack interrupts, his eyes widening in surprise. “At the end.”

My eyes widen in shock from his abrupt tone.

Huh? Okay.

“Will the kitchen be fully stocked? Mr. B.L.T. mentioned he would provide all supplies.”

It’s Mr. Jack’s time to appear confused, but then he cocks his head, and I clock that he has an ear piece.

Is this what the rich do? Send along their lackeys but still listen in? Seems kind of extra.

“Oh, I see. Is that your…method?”

“Yes, I would prefer to not bring my own supplies, especially for just one head.” I shrug a shoulder. “I usually have a minimum of five in one sitting.”

It’s just easier to cook for more than one person and it’s more bang for the buck. Same amount of work but more money.

I choose against explaining that to him.

Mr. Jack’s lips twitch. “We can send half the payment up front and the other half after.”

This is literally only going to be $50, should I ask for more? But he is already seemingly not loving this conversation.

My eyes skip over his appearance, the money screaming out of his pores. “Will this be a one-off? Or can I expect to be hired again? If I am hired again, why don’t you just pay after? Make sure I’m what you are looking for.”

Mr. Jack laughs, and the sound catches me off guard, causing my eyes to flick away from him and jump up over his shoulder.

There’s a door with a tiny window at the top, and I swear I see someone move, as if we are being watched.

This entire meeting is weird. They haven’t even brought us food, are we literally just having this conversation and leaving? I should have eaten before this if that’s the case.

“You aren’t at all what I expected.” Mr. Jack reaches out, taking my hand, but then immediately jumps back. “Is there anything special you need?”

“Cinnamon.” The response is immediate. “It is my special ingredient for all my clients.”

And I have zero idea where it ended up after I was fired from my last job.

“I see.” Mr. Jack has paled. “May I ask your plan?”

Is this a trick question?

“I will make a meal, serve it to the person as requested, and then I will depart.”

“If that is the case, it shouldn’t be an issue, we will...excuse their normal chef for the day.” Mr. Jack reaches into his suit, pulling a sheet from an internal pocket and setting it down in front of me. “Here is the name and address. Mr. B.L.T. will send you an email with the date and time and arrangements to pick up the cinnamon, it should only be a day or two.” Mr. Jack stares me down, appraisingly. “I hope you are successful. If you are, I believe this could become a wonderful partnership.”