Page 87 of You Chive Me Crazy
“Tell that to my husband,” Lita said.
“I already heard!” he called out from the back room.
A minute later, we walked into the Dancing Dragon, scanning the vegetarian restaurant for Lazlo.
Rolando pointed towards the kitchen. “There he is.”
Lazlo froze for a moment, then bolted right out the back door.
“And there he goes,” I said.
Rolando dodged tables and customers in a frenzied pursuit, while I turned around and raced back out the front door. Luckily, the chase was short and Rolando caught him before he got into his car.
“I did nothing,” Lazlo blurted out, leaning against his car, out of breath.
“For someone who didn’t do anything, you sure look guilty,” I said. “And I’m curious, how could you be deathly ill in the hospital and be here at the same time? I’m confused.”
Lazlo eyed his door handle.
“Don’t even think about it,” Rolando said.
“Do the right thing,” I said. “Take down the video of Potato Heaven.”
“It’s not that simple,” Lazlo said.
I blew out a frustrated breath. “It’s called the delete button. It doesn’t get much simpler than that. Tap the button. Poof. It’s gone. Unless you’re saying it’s not that simple because you got paid to post the video.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rolando smiled. “We’ve got proof. Delete the video.”
“What’s it worth to you?” Lazlo asked.
“Seriously?” I said. “You want us to pay you to take down a video you got paid to post?”
“Why not?” Lazlo said with a wide smile. “Sounds pretty good to me.”
I crossed my arms, nodding. “You know what? Maybe we need to get the police involved, then.” I didn’t have the patience, nor the time, to negotiate with a guy who thought it was no big deal to ruin Zoe’s dream.
“The police? What’s going on here, Lazlo?” said an older man as he approached us. He did a double-take when he saw me. “Lucas Filo! What an honor to meet you in person.” He held out his hand. “I’m Aaron Larson, the owner. Are you here to dine with us?” He seemed nervous, or maybe it was just excitement.
I shook his hand, then my head. “We don’t have time—”
“Thank God!” he said, pressing his palms together and looking up at the sky. “I wouldn’t be able to handle the stress, knowing you were going to write a review about our food. I’m a fan, but you can be brutal sometimes. No offense.”
“None taken,” I said. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“By all means,” Aaron said.
“How long have you owned this restaurant?” I asked.
“Twenty-three years and counting,” he said, smiling proudly. “I worked my way up from dishwasher, to server, to management. And when the owner was ready to retire, there was nothing I wanted more than to take over.”
I nodded. “You’ve busted your butt to make it happen, and you put your heart and soul into this place.”
“Every single day,” Aaron said. “You understand my life completely.”
“And how would it make you feel if someone came into your restaurant with the express intention of causing you harm? They go public and tell anyone who will listen that they got sick fromyourfood. And you are one hundred percent certain it is not true, but your restaurant gets shut down anyway, all because of a big lie.”
