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Easing forward, I tug on F-man’s sleeve. “Marshi, what did you do?”
“Hm?”
“It’s twelve-ten. Why are the screens still on breakfast?”
“Oh.” He beams down at me. “I made a call this morning and asked that breakfast be extended till one today. Or else.”
He threatened a Taco Bell?
No.
That’s a bit silly.
Arching a brow, I ask, “Or else what?”
“Or else I’d buy this franchise and adjust the breakfast times myself. But I really didn’t want to go through the trouble of that and probably couldn’t have had it done in time, so we came to an agreement that benefited us both.”
Just a normal day in billionaire land, I suppose.
We get our meal to go, and I abuse his credit card by ordering myself the Cinnabon coffee, not the plain one. It’s a dollar more expensive, and I’m disgusted with myself, but—at the same time—I’m not sure when I’ve ever been this happy.
Possibly when I found that Krobus elf mod.
The bar is terribly high.
After I finish the last bite of my cheesy, eggy, sausagey Crunchwrap, I say, “Thank you.”
F-man looks up from his perfectly mundane, non-breakfast menu beefy five-layer burrito. He licks a bit of nacho cheese off his lip. “For what?”
“Going through the trouble of blessing me with this experience. I know you’re rich, and that comes with an aptitude for shamelessness, but it’s still very funny picturing you doing corporate talk with the franchise owner in order to extend breakfast for two hours. I appreciate it.”
Warmth pours off him. “It wasn’t any trouble.”
“It required you to make a phone call. By yourself. As your assistant, I know the pain of having to call people. It’s trouble. A lot of trouble. And someone makes it a necessity to call many, many people every time his little whims change his entire schedule…” My eyes narrow. “Accept my appreciation. It is in short supply.”
“You’re really driving home the hate my job thing. Most people don’t mind working for me. I pay well, offer benefits, am a refreshing character to be around—or so I’ve been told.”
“All true. And yet my aptitude for pessimism is remarkable. Why focus on the positive when the negative is more fun?”
“At least you’re self-aware.”
“One of my numerous virtues.” I see a sign with giant pumpkins on it outside the window and realize we’ve managed to ease into the outskirts of the city. I sip my coffee and watch as a bustling sunlit field streams into view. Roughly a million children speckle between approximately a million pumpkins. And, in the distance beyond them, green stalks stretch to cover the horizon.
I gasp. “There’s a corn maze.”
F-man folds his wrapper against his thighs. “There is.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the corn maze?”
His brows furrow. “I didn’t think it would be of consequence.”
My mouth falls open, and I stare at him as though he’s murdered Krobus right in front of me.
“Do you…want to do the corn maze?”
“Yes, I want to do the corn maze. We are doing the corn maze. And next time there’s a corn maze, you better tell me about the corn maze.”
Biting his lip to keep down a smile, he says, “I’ll have my assistant make a note.”
