Page 14 of Bad Seed

“She’s not going to like that answer,” the waiter said.

“She is not our problem. The diners waiting for their orders are our main focus,” Brendan said.

“Yes, Chef,” the waiter said, and headed for the room service area to call her back.

When Justine got that message, she cursed out the woman who’d called her and hung up, then grabbed her cell phone.

Chapter 3

Larry Beaumont was on the downside of a chicken salad sandwich when Justine’s number popped up on caller ID. He rolled his eyes, wondering what was wrong now, wiped his hands, and answered.

“Hey, honey, what’s up?”

Justine was screaming and crying in his ear, making no sense, running her words together, and all he could make out was something about the kitchen staff refusing to bring her lunch order to the penthouse.

“Justine, darling…slow down, take a breath, and start over. I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

Justine wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and turned on her shaky little-girl voice.

“Daddy, I ordered lunch through room service as usual, and they just called me back and said I couldn’t have what I’d ordered and to pick something else, and I don’t want something else,” she wailed. “I just wanted what I ordered. Nobody likes me here. Brendan Pope is hateful. He won’t even speak to me. The staff is mean to me. I hate this hillbilly town. I hate these mountains. I don’t know why we came here,” she wailed.

Larry frowned. “Just calm down. I’ll go speak to them.”

Justine shifted into a whisper. “I’m sorry to be a bother.”

“You’re not a bother,” Larry said. “I’ll bring your order up myself in a while, and we’ll talk.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said. She was smiling when she disconnected.

Unaware of his daughter’s deceit, Larry stormed out of his office and took the staff elevator up to the dining room and down the hall into the kitchens.

He came in shouting, bringing the entire room to a shocked halt. “What the hell is going on in here? My daughter ordered a simple meal from room service, and you refused to fill her order? Somebody better have a real good explanation for that.”

Chef Randolph threw his hands up in the air and shouted back. “There is a good explanation! We have a room service menu! She ordered food that was not on the menu. She ordered food that’s not even on the dining room menu. Half the time what she wants is not even in stock in this kitchen.”

Larry blinked. “What did she order that was so outrageous?”

“She wanted shrimp puttanesca made with ziti pasta, not linguini, not spaghetti, and pecan pie, and at this moment, we have two-thirds of the tables in the dining room full of diners waiting for the food we do have on the menu!” he shouted.

Larry frowned. “Well, what kind of shrimp and pasta do you have on the menu?”

“Fried, and the only pasta on the menu is spaghetti and meat sauce, which is on the children’s menu. This is a tourist destination in the mountains of Kentucky. Not Rockefeller Center!” Randolph shouted. “There are a dozen other very tasty entrées she could choose from.” And then he turned his back on Larry and began slicing off servings of prime rib to be plated.

Larry was still struggling with an answer when he spotted Brendan Pope on the far side of the kitchens and started toward him with renewed indignation.

“Brendan Pope! I want to talk to you!” Larry shouted.

Brendan was piping strawberry gelée on tiny cheesecake tarts.

“I’m listening,” he said, without looking up.

“You will look at me when I’m talking to you!” Larry shouted.

Brendan took a deep breath, and straightened up to his full height. Now Beaumont was craning his neck and looking up just to meet Brendan’s gaze.

“I’m looking. Now what?”

Larry was shouting again. “Why can’t Justine have a simple piece of pecan pie?”

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