Page 29 of Jesse
With no choice but to trust Jesse’s plan, I exhaled sharply and nodded.
“Fine. But we need to catch up fast. The rest of the day has to go perfectly,” I said.
Jesse pulled the shirt over his head, and despite everything, I caught myself watching as it settled over his shoulders. Damn him.
The rhythm of the work was hypnotic. Take the order. Fry the protein. Assemble the toppings, dress it all up, plate, and serve.
Over and over, my hands moved almost automatically.
At first, I was really surprised at how smoothly everything was running despite the chaos of the morning.
Jesse had prepped things to perfection, and I could even hold down the truck on my own. It felt manageable. Efficient, even.
Jesse had insisted on being outside, mingling with customers and taking orders. At first, I thought it was unnecessary.
We had a steady flow of hungry diners, and I could handle the line just fine from up here.
But he said, “I need to be on the ground. It’s the only way to get a feel for what’s going on.”
It made sense, of course. Part of the reason we were here wasn’t just to sell food but to keep an eye on things.
And with the sheer number of people swarming around the trucks, it was impossible to notice anything unusual from inside.
Being out there gave Jesse a better vantage point, and I couldn’t deny it was the right move.
He also argued it was a way to lure back customers who had gone to other trucks when we opened later.
“If they’re stuck in someone else’s line, I’ll give them a reason to ditch,” he said with a grin. And knowing Jesse, I was sure his charm alone was enough to turn heads.
My thoughts drifted briefly to the first time I’d met him, remembering how he stood there, all confidence and charm, telling my customers my brisket was dry and they’d be better off buying from his truck.
At the time, I was furious. The audacity of it set my blood boiling. But now, I could begrudgingly admit, even if only to myself, that it had been bold. Clever, even.
Maybe it was that part of me that hates losing or my understanding of how the game was played, but I didn’t mind Jesse’s tactics anymore.
If anything, I respected how effective they were. And if this strategy helped us get to the next round, maybe even the top three, then why not?
Winning meant more than just the case now. It was about staying in the game, holding my place, and proving I wasn’t just some rookie.
I glanced out the window, noting how other trucks had started doing the same thing.
One of them was even giving out free samples, their staff calling out loudly to anyone who passed by.
Jesse’s voice cut through the noise, light and teasing but still loud enough for nearby customers to hear. “Look at that. They’re intimidated by the Beck-and-Jesse collab. Desperate enough to give out freebies.”
The crowd laughed, and so did the staff at the truck next to him. Jesse’s easy charm was working its magic, pulling people in like a magnet.
And then there it was, that damn smile of his. The one that had caught my attention the first time we met.
The dimple deepening on his left cheek as he leaned against the counter, chatting with a group of customers.
I wasn’t sure what I felt. A flicker of something, maybe irritation, as I turned back to the grill. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong.
But the feeling stuck, gnawing at me. My hands moved faster than they should have, and before I realized it, I’d left a piece of brisket on the grill too long.
The charred edges crumbled as I flipped it, and I cursed under my breath.
By the time I served the next order, I’d messed up another. The line outside, once perfectly controlled, was growing longer by the minute.
