A heart that's full up like a landfill, a job that slowly kills you,
bruises that won't heal...
-Radiohead
~~~~~~~~
"Can you kill someone with whipped cream?" Evelyn turned to Prince. She realized she was holding her breath and slowly exhaled.
"I don't know." He tilted his head sideways. "All in all, it's not a bad way to go."
The dessert canister was on its last legs. Frothing dollops of cream, it sputtered air and died. Choking and spitting, Ray jerked himself free of Vince's grip. He stood up and furiously blew whipped cream out of his nostrils.
"He looks good enough to eat." Prince murmured appreciatively.
"I didn't ask you to burst in here and surprise me with the marketing assistant position. What I want is a real apology from you, Mr. Sinclair." Evelyn doggedly stood her ground.
"You want ME to apologize?" Sinclair pointed at Vincent, shaking with anger. "That wack job nearly killed me and you stood there doing nothing." He grabbed a dish towel from the counter and dabbed his eyes that stung from pineapple juice. "I must have been crazy trying to woo you back without a body guard." He laughed, his hair a riot of hardening cowlicks. "I should have known you were a lunatic the first time I saw you." Throwing the towel on the floor, he stormed off towards the exit. "The only apologizing I'm doing is having all of you arrested." He left a trail of white, sticky fingerprints, garnishing the swinging doors.
"Get out, before I feed your ass another canister!" Deedee threw a metal spatula after him. "And don't come back." Bouncing off the door, the utensil splattered custard before ricocheting off a stainless steel stock pot with a loud clang.
Shocked, Evelyn sat down on a corner stool. "Did he really offer me the marketing assistant position?" The enormity of the lost opportunity made her shoulders slump. "Why did I say no to him?" She bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. "Maybe I should have accepted his offer. Becoming a marketing assistant was my dream job."
"Don't worry, Evie." Prince patted her hand. "He'll be back."
"We just tried to kill him with dessert topping—I don't think he's coming back." Tears pricked at her eyes.
"That miscreant," Deedee fumed. "I'm glad we gave him the beating he deserved." She carefully arranged her man-handled bosom. "Nobody asked him to bring his lunatic ass down here." She squared her shoulders. "Now that he's gone, I'm getting the topping from the back room.
"Oh honey." Seeing Evie's distressed face, she rushed over to comfort her. Gently resting Evie's head on her powerful bosom, she stroked her hair. "Baby, you look so tired and beat up. Shh.. don't cry. Trust me, he wasn't the one who got away." She gazed into Evelyn's eyes. "I'm proud of you. I know how hard it was to stand up to him." Despite Deedee's assurance, Evelyn's chest felt hollow as she helped Vincent clean up the kitchen.
Am I sad because of the ruined job opportunity, or was it because I'll never see Raymond Sinclair again?
"I hated him so much," she said softly. "Until he said he needed me. Did I do the right thing to tell him no?"
His back turned to her, Vincent didn't answer. He untied his white culinary apron and stared out the kitchen's large rectangular window at a white van that was parked across the street. It was a long ingrained habit to watch over the many building's entry points. He made a mental note to check where the suspicious hippie had gone.
"I'll be right back," he said.
* Drag Queen model is Ru Paul.