Page 31 of Jesse
Even though I hated to admit it, a small part of me was relieved. Having Jesse here would make things easier, and maybe I didn’t mind the idea of him sticking around.
I turned back to the grill, the afternoon fading fast. The sun was starting to set, and shadows stretched across the square.
The loudspeaker crackled, and a voice boomed overhead.
“Attention, competitors! The competition time is officially up. All sales must stop now.”
The announcement was followed by a chorus of groans and cheers as some food trucks scrambled to finish their last sales while others began cleaning up.
I stayed focused, plating the last few orders quickly.
I handed the last plate to a customer and exhaled deeply. “That’s it,” I said, half to myself, half to Jesse, who was leaning against the counter beside me.
He glanced at me, a small, satisfied smile on his lips. “We did good,” he said.
I wanted to agree, I really did, but my mind was already dissecting every moment of the day.
We’d sold out of almost everything, but halfway through, we ran out of potatoes and some of the toppings for Jesse’s brisket.
Sales slowed after that, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it might have cost us. Still, I was sure we’d done enough to make it through. No way we’d come up short after all that.
The loudspeaker came to life again. “We will now announce the winners of this year’s food truck competition!”
Up on the stage, the fair organizer, a woman in a bright floral dress, was flanked by a panel of judges.
Papers and tablets were passed between them as they whispered among themselves.
The crowd murmured with anticipation, and I couldn’t help but lean forward slightly, my fingers twitching at my sides.
She tapped the microphone, her cheerful voice carrying over the square. “Thank you all for an incredible competition! Our judges had quite the task deciding the winners this year.”
I swallowed hard, glancing at Jesse. He looked calm, confident even, his arms crossed as he watched the stage.
“We’ll start with fifth place,” the organizer announced. “Congratulations to Rolling Dough Pizza!”
Applause erupted, and a small cheer went up from the truck to our left. I took a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm.
Fifth wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t what we were aiming for.
“Fourth place goes to... Taco Oasis!”
Another round of applause. My jaw tightened. Still no mention of us.
Jesse nudged me lightly with his elbow. “Relax,” he murmured. “We’ve got this.”
I wasn’t so sure anymore. My stomach twisted as the organizer moved on.
“And now, for our top three winners! Third place goes to...” She paused dramatically, scanning the crowd. “Smokestack Wings!”
My chest felt like it was caving in. That was the Thornebane truck. And it wasn’t us.
I barely heard the cheers from across the lot. The names blurred together as the organizer announced second and first place.
We lost.
I stood there, frozen. The applause around me felt distant, muffled, like it was coming from underwater.
Jesse touched my shoulder, his voice soft. “Beck?—”
