Big Pickle: A Secret Boss Romantic Comedy - JJ Knight Page 0,20

my deli to go under.

But all this will remain to be seen.

The group disperses as I slide on an apron. Lamonte puts away the pickles. “You can find the bin of onions for today’s chopping in the front of Mr. Chill.”

“Mr. Chill?”

“The big fridge.”

“What do you guys call the freezer? Mr. Freeze?”

“No, we call that JP.”

“What’s it stand for?”

Lamonte shakes his head. “Jace Pickle. Look, I know you’re friends with the boss man and all, but you’ve got to know, up until yesterday, when he promoted Nova, he wasn’t too popular around here.”

I accept that. And hopefully, as soon as all this is done, I’ll find a way to fix it. Nova won’t be too happy when she figures out that the Jason she’s had in her deli has been Jace Pickle all along, but there will be no getting around telling her in the end.

I realize Lamonte is still standing there, looking at me like I’ve turned to stone.

I shake my thoughts loose. “Wait. What does the freezer have to do with Jace Pickle?”

He takes his time screwing the lid back onto one of the yellow buckets. “You don’t get it? We named the freezer JP after the son of a bitch who left us out in the cold.”

Point taken.

10

Nova

Jason Packwood appears to be as good as his word.

For the next week, he’s a model employee. He chops onions and jalapeños without complaint. He refills the sandwich line during the rush. He washes dishes.

Arush teaches him how to make the famed chicken salad. Now that Jason’s got the onion dicing down, my best cook seems to have taken him under his wing. They’re at it again today, with Jason mixing the ingredients.

All is well.

I walk through the kitchen and into Susan’s office.

Or, I guess, my office.

I spin around in the chair. I haven’t changed anything since I was named acting manager. I haven’t had time. In fact, the paper Jason tacked up is still there, too.

Going through the books looking for abnormalities and catching up on six months of memos from the franchise is taking up all my free time.

Anthony Pickle, the brother who owns the franchise in Colorado, has a test kitchen where they create new breads for the sandwiches, as well as the pickle of the month, and any specialty items to serve seasonally.

We’ve missed almost all those opportunities from corporate since the emails were going into the black hole of Susan’s manager account.

But now I can see them all.

We’ve been doing the pickle of the month, because the vats arrive from Colorado, and we put them out with signage that this is a temporary pickle flavor.

But I had no idea about the different breads.

We normally serve three kinds. A fortified white, whole wheat, and rye.

But once I see the other recipes with light-hearted, clever names, I vaguely remember from my early days that we would occasionally have a specialty bread and a sale associated with it.

We missed the fall bread with cranberry for the holidays, called “Rudolph’s Nose.” And the winter bread with walnuts and pecans called “Go Nuts.”

But the new spring bread looks to be a lot of fun. Anthony has outdone himself.

Normally the breads are baked early each day. But this new one needs to be tested in our kitchen before introducing it to the line.

And making bread is tedious, the perfect job for someone who needs to be taught patience.

I glance through the open door of my office into the kitchen. Arush and Jason are finishing up the chicken salad. Arush will move onto the sandwich line with Kate. Eli is here today to run the refills from the fridge to the line. And Elda, of course, always keeps the tables clear and makes sure the beverage counter is clean and functional.

Arush says something to Jason I can’t hear, and they laugh. Both are good-looking men, Arush’s dark hair and heavy eyebrows enigmatic and fun. With Jason’s model-perfect face and haircut, the two of them look like they’re shooting the pilot for the next streaming television sensation.

Jason’s demeanor is much easier around Arush than me. He looks almost casual, like he could be a normal human and not some rich boy playing a role for kicks.

Kate pops through the swinging door, and I watch carefully to see how the men respond to her. Arush suddenly goes quiet and serious, as if her arrival is something sacred. He drops a spoon on the floor with a clatter of metal. His face turns bright red