After finishing the final course — a sausage-and-pepperoni pizza — our server went to fetch our bill. I noticed that Samy was still in charge of handling the point-of-sale system, but Amy remained in the kitchen through the entire meal. With nine more iced tea refills and a to-go box for the pizza, the meal at Amy’s Baking Company concluded. With my bill paid and business card in hand, I approached Samy near the exit. How could I not?
“What is it that you do?” Samy asked. I was honest: “I’m a freelance reporter.” But I wasn’t met with the vicious response I thought I’d receive.
“Write your review,” Samy said. “Maybe we can talk more then. I want to call you and discuss the reality TV show I’m working on. I’m also doing a book. Do you know of a good writer? Are you a good writer?” I chuckled, shook his hand, and watched as he walked back into the kitchen, while Amy stared us both down from behind the pass.
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