Page 136 of Delicious

“But we’re still making pizza bagels.”

ChapterThree

Mateo

Icalled a meeting with my cousins immediately after my run-in with the bagel boy. They thought I was overreacting.

“Cuz, bagels and pizza are like apples and bananas. You can eat ’em both. One’s superior,” Vanni said. “But you know what I mean.”

“It’s more like Froot Loops and mac n’ cheese,” Sal interjected.

I was surrounded by lovable bozos, but maybe they were right.

According to my family, I was a hothead, and was it possible that Rob had just rubbed me the wrong way? Yeah, definitely.

Still, I kept an eye on the hullabaloo next door all fucking summer.

Two months of annoying pounding on walls, accompanied by the grind of a saw and delivery vans blocking the curb in front of our shop. Two whole fucking months. But I had to admit, it looked good.

The logo on the new black awning was sophisticated, the contemporary lighting, refurbished tile flooring, and the steel-and-glass cases were classy as fuck. And the smell of fresh bagels was mighty pleasant first thing in the morning.

And as my mom reminded me, “Any new business in town brings new customers our way.”

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

The invite to the soft-opening soiree arrived on an ordinary Tuesday in September. It was one of those fancy engraved numbers with thick paper I associated with weddings. And get this…it was for Friday night—the busiest night of the week for us. What were they thinking? People ate bagels in the morning. No one wanted a bagel at six p.m., but I wasn’t gonna miss this. I needed to know what we were up against.

I left Vanni and Jimmy in charge of the store and traded my apron and red-checked shirt for a black V-neck sweater and a nice pair of jeans. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone, but I figured I should step up my game.

And I could tell this was a bougie event. A cascade of balloons framed the front door, and jazz music drifted from the speakers as waiters circled the room, passing out flutes of champagne and bagel-ish canapes.

I nodded to an acquaintance as I plucked a glass of bubbly from a tray along with a cream-cheese-and-lox everything bagel bite dusted with caviar. Holy crap, it was tasty. I grabbed another, then moved on to a feta-and-cucumber combo garnished with delicately shaved red onion that should have been gross but was equally amazing.

I mingled amongst the locals as I feasted on a variety of interesting concoctions, not one of them resembling a piece of pizza. Good. My ego had taken a beating over the past few years, and this minor concession felt like a win.

And since Rob the football hero had made an effort to be cool, I could do the same.

I spotted him at the far end of the shop, chatting with Coach Malveney and his wife and the pretty blond I’d assumed was Rob’s wife or girlfriend until she’d set me straight last month.

“No, no. Rob and I are best friends and business partners. That’s all,” Amber had clarified.

Vanni had been happy to hear that. He thought she was cute and nice, and that I was an idiot for making enemies when I could have been angling for a sweet discount.

Whatever. I liked Amber fine, but Rob…

Well, now that pizza was off his menu, I could be cordial.

I set my empty flute on passing waiter’s tray and approached the group. “Coach, Mrs. Malveney, it’s nice to see you.”

“Mateo! Oh, heavens! How are you?” Coach’s wife threw her arms around me and kissed my cheek. I was afraid she was about to ruffle my hair for old times’ sake, but she just beamed like a proud parent. “You’re as handsome as ever.”

“This guy has a big head, honey. Don’t give him any reasons to strut like a peacock.” Coach punched my biceps and pulled me in for a gruff, one-armed bro hug. “How ya doin’? Long time no see, kid.”

“You need to eat more pizza, Coach,” I joked.

“You think?” The older man patted his ample belly before gesturing between Rob and me. “What are the chances of two of my guys setting up shop next to each other? I feel like I should be yelling at you to remember curfew.”

“Time flies,” Amber singsonged, flashing a pretty grin my way. “Hi, Mateo. I’m so glad you made it.”

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