Page 28 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

Becky turns slightly toward me. “Jameson, I am so thrilled that you finally have your own restaurant opening up. I got to taste some of your amazing dishes when you were here last time, and I can only imagine the kind of menu you're putting together for your own space. Want to tell us about it?”

“Of course.” I smile and glance toward the camera like I was instructed. “It's going to be called FURY.”

The co-anchors burst out laughing, and Tim points at me.

“Clever naming.”

I grin at him and shrug. “It seemed fitting. We are going to be mostly modern upscale American and European fare, but, of course, everyone knows I always love to throw a little twist into something to make it my own.”

Becky and Tim both nod vigorously. Tim glances down at the menu I brought with me, examining the dishes.

I only had a second to glance at it when I picked it up from the printer on my way over here this morning, but the menu looked good. The print is fancy enough to look upscale but easy to read in dim lighting. I really wanted to be able to show it on camera, and I'm glad the printer was able to do the rush job so I could have it with me today, but it meant there wasn’t time to really prepare Tim and Becky on what the menu contains.

Tim freezes for a second, glances over at me, then back down at the menu before smiling at the camera. “Well, Jameson, I have to say…you have some pretty interesting dishes on your menu.”

“Oh, definitely. I think the octopus salad is really going to blow people's minds.”

Tim chuckles and hands the menu to Becky. “You mean the ‘octopussy salad?’”

“What?” I jerk my head to the side and find both of them fighting full-on laughter while looking at the printed paper.

What the fuck is he talking about?

I clear my throat and peek at the camera while trying to keep a smile on my face. “I'm not sure what you mean, Tim.”

That's kind of an inappropriate comment for him to be making on live television. A little lowbrow—even for a man who has a reputation as quite the ladies’ man around NYC. I still wouldn’t expect that to come out of his mouth. Seems like a big risk to his job.

Tim points to the menu, and Becky holds it out to me with a smirk.

She taps a long, manicured nail on it. “I think you have a couple typos on here, Jameson. You might want to get these corrected before the restaurant opens.”

Typos? What the fuck?

There’s no way. I went over this menu a dozen times before I brought it to the printer. It was perfect. I made sure to hand write each item clearly so there wouldn’t be any problem reading it.

I snatch it out of her hand, and the fact that the cameras are running live on me suddenly pushes to the back of my mind. Scanning the menu, my hands tighten on the paper. Each word flashes through my head, and my vision goes red.

Octopussy salad…

Boner-in ribeye…

Spanked pork butt…

Roasted cock with a creamy white sauce…

Roast beef curtains with ass jus…

Leather whipped potatoes…

Motherfucker!

It goes on and on. Almost the entire menu.

These are not typos. This was a deliberate attack. Someone intentionally changed every single menu item.

And there's only one person who could have done it.

Izzy…

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