Page 37 of Long Shot

“And something vegetarian,” Beck suggests.

“Chickpeas!” Sid bursts out. “Chickpea taco bowls.”

“Oh, yeah . . . is that why we bought that big bag of chickpeas yesterday?” I stroke my fingertips over my chin.

“Yeah. That’s another idea . . . I . . . we can try.”

“Interesting.” Marco taps his fingers on the table.

“I like it,” Carrie says. “So what else would be in it?”

“You know . . . the usual taco seasonings . . . and toppings. Lettuce. Sour cream.”

“I’m not convinced,” I say. “But we can try it and see how it goes. How long do you think you need to come up with enough new menu items? A week?”

Sid makes a strangled sound. “Maybe?”

I regard my employee with an unyielding expression. “You okay, Sid? You seem stressed.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’ve really come up with some great stuff lately. What turned things around for you?”

Sid drops his gaze to the table. “Fuck.”

“Pardon?”

I look around the table, taking in Beck and Marco’s curious expressions and Carrie’s frown.

“I can’t do this.” Sid pushes back from the table but doesn’t stand.

“Too much pressure?” Carrie asks gently, reaching out to pat his forearm. “These guys are being pretty demanding.” Me. She means I’m being demanding. “We can take it slower . . .” She catches my eye. “Probably. Or not.”

“It’s too much pressure because I can’t do it.” Sid lifts his head and looks across the room, then meets my gaze. “I haven’t been the one coming up with these great new ideas.”

The air in the room goes flat and heavy.

“Then who has?” Carrie cocks her head.

“I think I know,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. I tip my head back and say to the ceiling, “Jesus Christ.”

“What? Who?”

“It’s Reese,” Sid blurts.

They all stare at him. But not me, whose suspicions have just been confirmed. “Apparently, I need to have a little talk with our waitress.”

9

CADE

“How about that twenty-four-hour rule?”

I glare at Beck. “What?”

“Wait twenty-four hours before you talk to Reese.”

“Fuck, no!” I try to unclench my fists.

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