Page 115 of Thug

“You cook for a big family?”

I laughed. “Kind of.”

He looked up. “What does that mean? Kind of?”

“I own a bar. I just started serving food. My customer base consists of Price and all his friends. None of them like their burgers cooked the same. Medium, medium rare, and well-done—all at the same table.”

He looked at Price. “You’ve got friends?”

Price scowled. He tried the wine. He lowered the glass and looked in it. “This isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

Jack gestured to a wine fridge and then to a cabinet. “If you’ve got a better suggestion, I’ll entertain it. Man at the wine store recommended that bottle to pair with these steaks. Bought two of them.”

The wine, a Courtney Benham Cabernet Sauvignon, was as good of a cabernet as I’d ever had. I lifted my glass. “I like it.”

Jack turned the steaks. “Tell me about your bar.”

“Well,” I gestured to Price. “I cater to bikers. I just started selling food. For the time being, I’m the only cook. I was the only bartender until a few weeks ago, but I hired another bartender so I can have a little time to myself.”

“I’m guessing you’re closed today?”

I nodded. “I’m closed on Sundays.”

“You plan to hire another cook?”

“I do.”

“When do you plan to do that?”

“I interviewed two, today.”

“Men or women?”

“One of each.”

“Didn’t hire either of them?”

“No.”

“Were they qualified?”

“More or less,” I replied. “The woman worked at a bar as a cook, but I’m not too impressed with her. She’s really opinionated.”

“What about the man?”

“I want to be impressed with him, but he doesn’t have any real-world experience.”

“Was the woman married?”

It seemed like an odd question. “Yes,” I said, “she was.”

“Let me guess,” he said. “The man’s Hispanic.”

I looked at Price. He shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

I glanced at Jack. “He is.”

“Hire him,” he said.