Page 54 of Show Off

“Just let me try talking to him.” I see a man strolling from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a stark white bar towel. “Please?”

“Go nuts.” Dal folds his arms as the guy approaches.

He’s got a brown floppy man-bun and tattoos up both his bare legs. He’s wearing shorts in a kitchen? Okay, well…I’m no health inspector. I steal a quick glance at Dal as the guy stops at our table.

“Terce Horseman.” He hikes up the sleeves of his neon blue chef’s coat and crosses his arms. Glances from Dal to me like he’s waiting for applause. “What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Horseman—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“Terce, please.” He flashes a smile that’s way too white to be natural. “We’re pretty chill around here.”

“I hear ya.” I force out a breezy laugh and try a little small talk. “When did you buy the place, Terce?”

He flips a highlighted curl off his forehead. “Couple weeks ago, and I paid cash.” He pauses again for applause. “The fans wanted to see me run a real restaurant, and this place was popular, so—” He shrugs like that’s a reasonable business decision. “Here I am.”

“Here you are.” I step on Dal’s toe when he snorts. “The thing is, Terce?—”

“Hey, you know what?” He makes a box with his hands and frames up my face. “You’re a hot girl. Ever thought about being an influencer?”

“I—” Oh, boy. It’s nice in a way, not to be recognized, but really? “I’m good, thanks. But your chowder?—”

“I’d cut you a deal on my social media workshop.” He leans in close, like he’s spilling a secret. “I let you in on all the tricks and tips that got me where I am today. Stuff like how to make the most of your ring light and which filters won’t make your ass look fat, you know?”

If this child thinks he’s schooling me on crafting a public image, he’s sorely mistaken. I learned these tricks in the cradle. “I’m sure it’s great,” I say, trying to keep our friendly rapport. “I’ll definitely check out your channel.” I will do no such thing. “But I actually have some concerns about?—”

“Picture this.” He pulls out a chair and flips it around, straddling it backwards as he rests both elbows next to Dal’s bowl. “You do some kind of angle, right? Like, ‘Hot MILF gobbles glizzies.’ Something really niche.” He pronouncesnichelike it rhymes withitchy, instead ofdishorquiche, both of which would be widely accepted by American dictionaries.

And Terce is as American as star-spangled tube socks.

So is Dal, though he’s puzzling out that last one. “MILF?” He frowns at me. “Glizzies?”

“Glizzy is a slang term for hot dog,” I inform Dal, who doesn’t look any less baffled. “And MILF is shorthand for ‘mother I’d like to f?—’”

“Hey, now.” Terce holds up his hands and chuckles. “We’re a family restaurant. Don’t go putting words in my mouth.”

Dal mutters something I don’t quite catch. Sounds like,“They’d taste better than your chowder,”but I focus on trying again with Terce. “I’m not a mother, actually. And social media isn’t really my?—”

“Hot older chick doesn’t have quite the same ring, though, does it?” He chuckles and nudges Dal. “This is what I teach in my class. How to put the best spin on things, right?”

“Right.” Dal gives me a dead-eyed stare. “How about it, Lana? Want to learn spin from the best?”

At the table behind us, I hear someone whisper.

Is that Lana Judson?

A murmur rolls through the restaurant. Someone passes our table and pokes the guy next to him.

Gritting my teeth, I turn back to Terce. “Look, I’m trying to help you. The old chowder recipe had a lot of great buzz and made the shortlist in several major culinary publications.Food and Wine?Bon Appétit?”

Terce laughs like I’m speaking Pig Latin. “Print media’s dead, babe. If you want to get famous?—”

“I don’t want to get famous!” My shout erupts like lava. Even Dal looks surprised. Drawing a breath, I smooth out my voice. “Not to split hairs, but those food mags have robust fan bases spanning multiple social media platforms. On Instagram alone,Food and Winehas more than 4.1 million followers and nearly 200,000 impressions across various food blogs.Bon Appétithas been a leading source of culinary insight since 1956, and their YouTube channel alone has nearly 7 million subscribers with?—”

I stop when Terce puts his head on the table. He gives a loud snore, smacking his lips for dramatic effect. Dal looks dangerously close to dumping chowder in his ear.

“That’s it.” I stand up and shove back my chair. “Do we have a doctor in the house? A medic, maybe?”

Everyone falls silent. The servers stop moving. The diners quit chatting. Even Terce sits up straight. In a corner booth, a woman in a purple T-shirt points her iPhone our way and starts filming.

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