Chapter 19

Shopping for tables and chairs was fucking boring, if you asked me. But as the owner of the Silver Star, I was expected to give my okay for whatever Fredi and David chose. They also expected me to be enthusiastic. When I wasn’t, they wondered what was wrong with me.

“Wrong?” The place was quiet as a frigging church, so I kept my voice to a loud whisper. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Then the saleswoman squealed like a pig spying food.

“Oh. My. God! Oh. My. God! You’re the Thug Chef!”

She attacked me, her arms spread out, and I was afraid we’d collide. Fredi stood looking stunned. David nudged me with his shoulder. He had a huge smile and sparkling eyes. He winked at me.

She stopped a few inches away from us and twirled to Fredi.

“You didn’t tell me the client was the Thug Chef,” she yelped at him.