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Shame twists my stomach into knots.
I remember working with those girls when I was younger. I saw the bruises from the pinches and the hollow, empty look in their eyes after the times it was far worse than a pinch on the ass. I’d held some of them when they cried in the walk-in fridge, and I’d tossed more than my share of men out of the place.
Then I think about the day I found Suzanne curled up in a ball and crying in the breakroom.
That day had ended with my first misdemeanor charge and a friend for life.
With how badly I’d lost my temper during my “talking to” with that customer, I was worried she wouldn’t be able to look at me again.
Instead, when I finally started my own catering company, she’d been the first to apply, insisting that I was the only man she would ever feel safe working for.
She wouldn’t be very proud of me right now.
I take a breath and imagine putting all the inappropriate thoughts about Avery inside a box in my brain. Then I tape it shut, shove it into a back corner, and pile a ton of other crap on top.
I’d always thought Phillip was full of bullshit with this visualization stuff, but it really does work—not that I’d ever admit that to him.
“You’ve seen my talents, you’ve seen live reviews of my cooking, and now you’ve heard why I think I’d be a good fit, but you haven’t yet heard my why.” She sets a photo in front of her on the table. “This is my son, Leo. He just turned two recently. When he was born, I had to choose between going to school and being home to give him the care he deserves. I chose him.
“Earning these certifications will allow me to widen my opportunities in the culinary world exponentially. Not only will I be able to provide my son with the life he deserves, but it will also show women in similar situations that they can follow their dreams while still being able to care for their children. All they need is a little boost at the right time.” She smiles brightly. “I’m hoping that Age Gap Academy will be that boost for me.”
Reginald turns his monitor back around and looks at me expectantly.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask incredulously. “Give that woman the full ride. How is that even in question?”
He fidgets nervously.
“Well, the optics are?—”
“What? Great?” I scoff. “AGA Gives Famous Pastry Chef Her Start. That’s going to be the headline. This woman is extremely talented already, and she’s only self-taught. Can you imagine how much more she’ll be able to achieve if we give her formal training?
“Even if we ignore the incredible good we’d be doing for someone who seems to deserve it, helping a single mom achieve her dream is pay dirt from a marketing standpoint. Everyone loves an underdog story.
“You need more? She has a website and a vlog which—according to her—are doing fairly well. Do you know how much publicity that will bring us when they find out where she went to school? I’d bet good money she’s already posted a video about applying.”
“She has,” he says, nodding his concession.
“So why haven’t you put the approved stamp on it yet?” I demand.
“Half the committee has issues with her…” He gestures vaguely at his chest area. “Presentation.”
If I clench my jaw any harder, my teeth will break.
“And she doesn’t quite fit the image of a struggling single mom. Besides, what message will that send to our…” He clears his throat awkwardly. “More elite clientele if we bring in a?—”
“So you want to deny her application because what? She happens to be on the busty side and doesn’t look like a dirty street urchin? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it was,” I say flatly.
“Don’t you have to leave to meet with your sous chef?”
“Oh, Suzanne won’t be mad at me for being late after I tell her about this lovely little chat.”
“How, um, kind of her.”
“Let’s get back to the point. The senator’s son I was mentoring today has three baby mamas and has been pulled into court several times for failing to pay child support, and you let him in. Care to explain how that’s different?”
