While Gilpatrick and Carlos engaged in a mutual geek out session over each other, I worked my way through my lunch. I'm apparently not as much of a foodie as he is, but I can recognize greatness when my tongue is in the presence of it.

I ate about half of my half of the Bourbon Bacon Burger, enjoying the way the sauce really highlighted the taste of the bacon, not to mention how perfectly Carlos had cooked the burger. Then I ate my half of the Five Pepper Burger. Sadly, while the burger remained on point, the five peppers weren't backed up by enough actual flavor. I guess I must have made some kind of face, because Carlos leaned my way and said, "sorry. I tweak the recipes as much as they'll let me, but that one is almost unrecoverable."

I shrugged. "It's not bad. It's just... not as good as the rest of the food has been." Honestly, Carlos' cooking pushed that bar pretty high. I finished off my half of the peppery burger, then finished off the other half of my bacon burger. As I'd hoped, the leftover spices had really opened up the old taste buds, and the incredible flavors of the bacon and sauce both hit that much harder. I nodded to him, swallowed, and said, "this, on the other hand? Perfection."

"Nah. Just the best I could do with what they give me."

I snorted as I ate another bite. Then gave up on talking for a bit and finished it off before it got cold. "If that's not perfection, I'm not sure I'd live through perfection."

Carlos blushed and chuckled a little. No pings on the Gaydar, but mine isn't exactly a precision instrument on the best of days.

At that point the phone rang up at the hostess' station, and Denise apologized, then went to answer it. I pulled out an old three by five card from my briefcase, sharpied out the notes I'd taken, then scribbled my name and number on it. When I held it out to Carlos, his eyebrows shot up. "Here. I don't know exactly what your big secret plan is? But if it has anything to do with your cooking, I'd consider it a big favor if you could let me know. Maybe shoot me an invite or something."

I couldn't tell if he looked relieved or disappointed. Like I said, not a precision instrument. "Oh. Okay, I'll do that then."

I smiled. "Or, y'know, if you need an ear to bounce ideas off of. Or maybe somebody to taste test recipes?"

He laughed at me, saying, "didn't you just say you were afraid my cooking would kill you?"

"I cannot, at this moment, think of a better way to die."

Gilpatrick, who'd been polishing off his Brisket Melt, gulped down like half of his soda to wash it down and said, "I've seen a lot of ways to die. Dumb ones, smart ones, sad ones, gruesome ones, even one or two peaceful ones. So you might call me a subject matter expert on that, and I completely agree with Nelson on that." He whipped out one of his cards. "You be sure to give me a call too, okay?"

Carlos laughed, agreed, then headed back for the kitchen. I fake frowned at Gilpatrick and complained, "way to cock block me, dude!"

He laughed. "Really? You think he's into guys? Huh. Did not get that vibe from him."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I shrugged. "I dunno. I've misjudged one too many guys to trust my own judgement on that, but into guys or not, he's way more into me than he is into you." Then I picked up my soda and took a big drink to clear my palate and my head.

Which I sprayed all over the table when he smirked at me and said, "well, if you're that interested we'll just have to see if our man Carlos is up for an entirely different kind of sandwich."

As I scrambled to use the patently insufficient number of napkins to dry off my notes and my electronics, I said, "Man, you have no chill whatsoever, do you?"

His smirk just got deeper when he replied, "wait, isn't that what kids are calling it these days?"

"Huh?"

"Isn't that the 'chill' part of 'Netflix and Chill'?"

Luckily I hadn't taken another drink to spit-take with. Even more luckily, Denise returned just about then and dropped all the napkins from her apron in the middle of the spreading puddle of soda, grabbing a few and starting to wipe up the mess on the table as I worked to clean up my gear. "Hey, sorry about this, guys, but the boss just called. He wants us to lock up and head home. Looks like we're gonna be closed until the doors are fixed."

"Oh, damn. You gonna be okay?" Gilpatrick's reactions near mirrored my own, and I shouldn't be surprised he managed to react first.

Denise just shrugged and smiled. "I won't make tips or any overtime, but the boss says he'll pay each of us for our shifts, since it's not our fault or anything."

"Wow. Nice guy."

She barked out a laugh. "Nah, just not a big enough, brave enough asshole to claim our pay on the insurance claim and then not give it to us."

I stuffed a few dry napkins into my briefcase, then began packing stuff away as I dried it. "Still cool that he thought of it."

She nodded, and Gilpatrick asked, "you sure there's nothing we can do to help out?"

She looked up at him, smiled a secret little smile, shook her head as if chiding herself, and said, "I'm not looking forward to walking home. The bus schedule isn't great here, I don't want to blow money on a taxi if I'm not making tips for the week, and my roommate won't get off shift for another few hours at least."

"If you don't mind my pillion seat, I can give you a ride." Goddamn that man was smooth. Frictionless, even. As Denise blushed and stuttered, he said, "on my motorcycle."

"Oh!" A tiny nervous giggle leaked out of her. "Yeah..."

"Or at your place, once we get there. Unless that would be one of those inappropriate mistakes?"

Her jaw slowly dropped open as her hands slowed to a stop. She snorted, laughed, then stood up and shouted, "Carlos!"

"Yeah, boss?" The moment his head popped out of the kitchen door, she'd tossed a ring of keys at him.

"Owner says we're all off with pay until the door is fixed. Lock up before you leave." She looked down at Gilpatrick, mumbled, "I cannot believe I'm doing this," then hollered, "I've got to leave now to catch my ride."

Gilpatrick stood, dropping a short stack of bills on the table as he did. When she raised an eyebrow, he said, "somebody's still gotta clean this mess up." She nodded, and he shot her that thousand-watt smile and said, "we don't have to leave right away. I've got nothing but time."

She stuttered a little before saying, "yeah, no, I do. Need to leave now. Unless you weren't serious? About, uh, the ride?"

He dropped a gallic shrug and said, "don't make offers I don't mean. Bad business that."

She grabbed his hand and towed him off toward the doors. "Yeah," she muttered, "this is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy." Of course, she practically dopplered with how fast she pulled him to and through the doors. A few seconds later the motor of his big Harley revved, and when I looked out the window they'd already turned onto the street.

The rest of the waitstaff expedited their cleanup, noting that if a construction crew came through, they'd wind up cleaning everything up again anyhow. They just packed up the food and split it up, made sure everything else got packed back in the freezer, and shut the lights out just as I finished gathering my stuff.

Turns out Carlos normally got a ride home with Denise's roommate as well. Still don't know if he's into guys or not, but after giving him a ride home in my stuffy little econobox? I can definitely confirm, get you a man who cooks on the regular. The smell alone is to die for.