Page 85 of You Chive Me Crazy
Lucas nodded. “I’d be happy to.” He turned to walk out and—
“No—I’m sorry, Mr. Filo. I know who you are and you’re good at what you do, of course, but I would like a selfie with Rolando Huxley. The man is a genius.”
Rolando froze, then glanced over at Lucas, then me, then back over to the woman.
She beamed and blushed. “I am yourbiggestfan.”
Rolando hesitated. “You like my . . . editing?”
She nodded profusely. “Yes! I’m getting my bachelor’s degree in journalism at Cal Poly, and I’ve been following you online. Iadoreyour advice for newbies. And I’ve read every article you’ve ever edited forDevour Americamagazine. I have yet to find even a typo slip through! How do you even do that? Like I said, a genius!”
Rolando thanked the woman for her kind words, took a selfie with her, then returned inside the food truck, still looking surprised. “Sorry about the distraction, Zoe. You’ve got a lot going on here. Where were we?”
In the middle of a nightmare.
And it was about to get even worse.
Calvin Easton—the organizer of the festival—drove up in his golf cart, a man on an obvious mission. Not wasting any time, he jumped out, set-up two retractable-belt barriers, spread them apart, and then pulled the belt from one to the other to connect them.
He was essentially letting attendees of the festival know that my food truck was closed. The only thing worse would have been crime-scene tape.
“Just wonderful.” I sighed. “I’ll be back.”
I walked out of the food truck, passed Savannah, who was picking up a few more menus off the ground, and approached Calvin.
He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, but we have to shut you down, Zoe. We got word of the salmonella case from your potatoes and can’t let the word get out that we did nothing about it. Liability, you know.”
I let out a frustrated breath as I watched the last of my customers walk away without one of my potatoes. “Calvin, the guy is lying.”
“I really hate to hear that, but we have a committee of eight who run this festival, and they won’t reinstate you unless you’ve got something to back that accusation up. One wrong move could devastate this entire event. Get me the proof he’s lying by five o’clock if you want to be here tomorrow. And it sounds like you may want to call the cops and get a lawyer involved as well. I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
I watched him drive away, then returned inside the food truck, Savannah following right behind me.
“What did he say?” Rolando asked.
“They officially shut us down,” I said. “And if I want to sell my potatoes tomorrow, we need proof by five o’clock today that Lazlo is lying.”
“Can I see the video?” Savannah said, since she had been outside tidying up the condiment bar when we watched it earlier.
“Here you go.” Rolando handed her his phone.
“Don’t worry—we’re going to fix this,” Lucas said, putting his arm around me. “The thing that makes little sense is why the hospital admitted Lazlo if he doesn’t have salmonella. It’s not like someone can fake those symptoms.”
“No, but you can fake being in the hospital,” Savannah said, pausing the video. “This guy is a giant doofus. How can people even believe this crap? This video is so fake and amateur, it’s laughable. Lazlo is not really at the hospital.”
“How can you tell?” I asked.
Savannah pointed to the phone. “He used a green screen app on his phone to add a picture of a hospital room behind him while he recorded the video, to make it look like he was really there. See that cloudy distortion around his head when he moves? That’s a telltale sign the person is using a green screen. Plus, look at the second hand on that clock on the wall. It’s not even moving. He’s not hooked up to any IVs. There’s no background noise from a hospital. Fake, fake, fake.”
“You’re right,” Lucas said. “I totally missed that.”
“So did I,” I said. “Damian obviously paid Lazlo to make that video, but we don’t have any proof other than seeing them together.”
“On the contrary, boss.” Rolando pulled out his phone and showed us a video he took of Damian giving Lazlo a wad of cash behind the restaurant. “I had a feeling this might come in handy.”
“What a life saver you are!” I said, hugging him. “We need to show this evidence to Calvin, so we can be open tomorrow.”
“You need to sue Lazlo’s ass,” Rolando said. “And Damian’s, too.”
