Page 6 of Winning You
“Can we play wiff…eggs today?”
“Eggs?”
Elodie burst into laughter. “Eggs and green ham.”
“Oh boy. I think we can,” Annie said. “Tell Dad bye.”
“Byeeeee!” Elodie didn’t turn or even attempt to glance back at him, because of course she didn’t. Four going on forty. He was chopped liver now. His chest hurt a little bit at the thought, but he quickly turned his attention back to his task at hand.
He didn’t love his job. It was meant to be temporary—something to pass the time while he figured out what he really wanted to do to support himself and Eddie while also making sure he could help his brothers out in an emergency. He’d never really had time to figure out what he wanted his life to look like.
It felt as though he’d been moving from one crisis to the next.
And what little stability he’d managed to carve out had all crumbled at his feet. As much as he would have loved to quit this job, it paid the bills and left room for all the shit Elodie’s insurance didn’t cover. And it assured he wasn’t going to get laughed out of the courtroom for not having enough money to support her during the adoption hearing.
So.
He was stuck. Probably for the rest of his life. A hated man—a pariah of the food community because he was not only strict, but he was good at being strict. He was a man entirely out of fucks, and Frankie was more than happy to wear that badge.
Grabbing his keys, he popped in front of the mirror to make sure his hair was in place. Some days, he looked his age. Some days, he looked older. Today, he felt like his wrinkles were a little more prominent, and oh god, was that a white eyebrow hair?
He couldn’t fixate on that now.
Moving to the table, he made sure his laptop and tablet were in his bag, then made sure all his other equipment was charged and ready to go. He wouldn’t be at his office until the very end of the day, and he didn’t want to make time driving back and forth for shit he’d left behind.
“Breathe,” he told himself, then snagged a banana off the counter. “Breathe. Relax. It’s just another day.”
But dear god, he had no idea how wrong he was about to be.
The first food truck was parked in the lot of the museum, which was a prime location. It was downtown, so it was close to all thecorporate offices and the community college campus. It was mostly shaded by huge trees in the roundabout but had plenty of parking around so customers could get to it easily.
The truck itself was black, with very large photos of all the food. It was very simple and easy to read, which Frankie appreciated. Oftentimes, they had chalkboards with bad handwriting and fuzzy photos that looked like they were taken off a first-generation smartphone.
Pulling behind the truck, Frankie stepped out and slung his bag over his shoulder. The food truck window was still closed, but he could smell something frying, which would make his job easier to do. He glanced at the time—five minutes to eleven. Off in the distance, he could see a handful of people waiting.
Fuck’s sake. Whatever, he could make this quick. He could do this in his sleep.
Walking to the back door, he knocked and tried not to feel impatient as he waited.
“We’re closed!”
“I’m aware of that. Health inspector.”
The door cracked open, and he saw a sliver of a face profile. “Did you say health inspector?”
“I did.”
“We’re not scheduled for an inspection.”
“Right. This is your random inspection for the quarter.”
“But no one called.”
He fought the urge to pull a hand down his face and groan so loudly it blew out his eardrums. “Right. Because it’s a surprise inspection? That’s how surprises work. We don’t give you a heads-up to clean up all your mouse shit.”
“Excuse the fuck out of you!” the guy said, yanking the door open. He had very wide, staring blue eyes, and he didn’t blink much.Christ, he thought,please say it isn’t drugs. “There are no mice in my truck.”
“There are mice everywhere,” he said flatly. “It’s a matter of how you deal with them. Now, can you step aside, please?”
