Page 58 of Sex On A Plate

BACON DEVILED EGGS

DIFFICULTY: Pahahaha.

TIME: 11 minutes.

What you’ll need from the cupboard: The stock pot with lid. 2 plates. A knife. A fork. A slotted spoon. A large mixing bowl. A small bowl. A spatula and skillet.

What you’ll need from the pantry: Half a dozen eggs. Lemon juice. Paprika. Salt. Pepper. Bacon. Mayonnaise. Dijon mustard. Pickle relish. Ice.

* * *

It was August of 2016. I had a book signing in Hollywood on one weekend and another in Las Vegas the following weekend. Jess and I had events scheduled for every day of the 10-day span.

The Hollywood signing was on a Saturday. We were staying at the infamous Roosevelt Hotel, where many of the televised awards ceremonies are held. Jess was so excited to see Hollywood.

The signing was sheer insanity. I’d not done a West Coast signing yet and had no idea what to expect. I was flooded with people hoping for a moment of my time, a signed book, and a photograph.

The day before I left for the event, I spoke with my father.

“Hollywood, California, huh?” he asked. “And you’re staying at the Roosevelt?”

“Yep.”

“I’m proud of you, Son,” he said. “Knock ‘em dead.”

I laughed. “I’ll do my best, Pop.”

He reminded me of the pride he felt, often.

For instance, my first #1 Bestseller happened overnight. I had no idea. I knew the book was doing well but had no idea of its transformation from selling well to becoming a bestseller.

The phone rang at 5 am. “Hey, shithead,” he said. “You know any bestselling authors?”

I’d gone to bed at about 3 am, having been up all night finishing a scene I was writing. I rubbed my tired eyes. “I don’t know,” I muttered. “Why?”

“I do,” he said.

“Okay.” I was sure an author joke was headed my way. “Let’s hear it.”

“You,” he said.

“Me what?”

“You’re a bestselling author.”

“Since when?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” he barked. “They don’t call me and tell me such things. I just noticed it when I got up.”

I quickly grabbed my phone and went to my book’s page on Amazon. An orange banner was attached to my product page, identifying my book as a bestseller.

I swelled with pride. “Thanks for calling, Pop.”

“Maintain a humble attitude,” he said. “Nobody likes a prick.”

“I will.”

“I gotta go,” he said. “My eggs are getting cold.”