Big Pickle: A Secret Boss Romantic Comedy - JJ Knight Page 0,5
That’s exactly what I’ll do. It’ll serve Jace Pickle right for never being around. He can deal with this crazy man.
“You can contact the owner,” I suggest. “His name is Jace Pickle.”
Shoot, he’s walking back to the counter. I lay my hand on top of the phone. One wrong move, buster, and I’m picking this sucker up.
“You haven’t had any new hires since the manager left?”
I falter. “Well, sure, but…”
“That other fellow seemed to act like you were in charge.”
“Well, I have been, since Susan’s been out.”
He stares me down. Who is this guy? We once had a couple of men arrive who insisted on speaking to the Pickles because they wanted to buy this building. But they hadn’t been as adamant and scary as this one.
“What position is open?” he asks.
“Just an all-around helper. Start on chopping and work up to the sandwich line.”
When he frowns, I think I’m scot-free. Mr. GQ isn’t going to want to slap mustard on bread. Feeling bolder, I say, “And yes, I’m able to hire for that. But it’s clearly not your type of work.”
And just like that, something in him changes. He taps the sign against his hand. He looks around the restaurant once again. Then he comes back to me. “Do you know Jace Pickle?”
“I know he’s the owner. I’ve never met him.”
He sets the sign on the top of the counter. “Well, I do. And he assured me I could get a job at this deli.”
“What? You?”
He holds out his arms. “I can get my hands dirty like anyone else.”
I’m flabbergasted. “Your outfit costs more than you will make in a week.”
“I just finished my degree and want to run a restaurant chain myself,” he says smoothly. He’s completely turned his personality around, flashing me a charming smile. “Jace kindly offered me a position here so I could learn the ropes. He talks very highly about how this restaurant is managed. He may have even mentioned you by name. Nova, right?”
I’m not moved. This man is slicker than snake oil now. Besides, I already told him my name. “I have to talk to Jace Pickle about this.”
“Absolutely. You do that,” he says. “Just tell him Jason arrived to start the job.”
“Do you have a last name?”
“He’ll know who Jason is,” he says. “We’re best buds. Just call. Trust me.”
“I never get a hold of him when I try. He’s apparently very busy.”
This Jason person frowns at that. “I’ll mention it to him. I know he’s a hands-off guy. It’s because he trusts you so much. I’m sorry I made a bad impression. I was just so surprised to see the place empty. I got the impression this was a very successful store.”
“It’s mid-afternoon on a Tuesday,” I say, leaving the chill in my voice. “You should’ve been here an hour ago. The line was out the door.”
He nods. “Good, great. Sounds like you could use my help for lunches. You give him a call this afternoon and tell him I’ll be here tomorrow morning to assist with the lunch rush. Or to chop things? Isn’t that what you said the job was?”
Who is this guy? He would probably come in here with his MBA or whatever and try to make us do whatever he learned in business class. Hire focus groups. Or something worse. Like hold meetings.
Hopefully, I won’t be able to get a hold of Jace, and I can send this guy packing. I really will call the police.
“Just leave your number,” I say. “If I get the go-ahead from Mr. Pickle, then I’ll let you know what time to be here.”
He grabs a napkin and scribbles the digits. “That sounds perfect. I’m excited to be joining this team.”
With that, he takes off out of the store and into the bright March afternoon.
Holy crap.
What was that?
I’m hesitant to even call Jace Pickle about this. He’ll probably laugh at me for being so gullible as to think the owner would send some random man-model to work on the sandwich line.
The whole thing seems off.
But what if he is a friend? I need this job to go well. I have a whole future ahead of me, or at least I think I do.
Probably it doesn’t matter. I’ll never talk to Jace Pickle. It hasn’t worked all the times I’ve tried since Susan left. And she mentioned back in the day that he was extremely difficult to reach. Sometimes she called Anthony, the Pickle brother who owns the Colorado branch, for clarifications.