The Nasty Business of a Bodyguard Elijah Douresseau (read aloud books .txt) 📖

was back in Los Angeles so much that his mind would simply reject any detail of his new life.

“Well, look alive. You have a guy in front who really wants to pay you some compliments for his food.”

“The liver and onions and eggs man?”

The waiter raised a few bills and fanned them, exposing one hundred and fifty dollars.

“This guy just paid for my weekend, so you can jump rope with him in the rain for all I care. Just get out there and say hi.”

An excessive tip like that? In a town where if you are making fourteen bucks an hour, you are an upper crust success? Investigating would have at least been a decent break from cooking. Alvin stepped out from the assembly line and headed to the font of the restaurant.

“You are Joseph.”

“It is I. Tony told me you really enjoyed your meal.”

“The best I have eaten in a while.”

“I’m glad it was satisfying for you.”

“Oh, it was more than that. And you are way more than some daytime cook on the line, are you not?”

Alvin was out of practice from being on alert in his old, double life, between Agent Matts and Coco. The minimal effort he had to give for the last five months made him complacent. Not too many ounces of trying were required. And here came this person. Looking like everyone else. But fitting in was just a game. Maybe. Who was this man?

“I have some formal training. But less fancy gigs are okay with me.”

“Culinary. You have a culinary education. Let us call it what it is. You could be in New York or Los Angeles, cooking for a James Beard-nominated establishment.”

No break in eye contact. The two were in on something Alvin did not know what of yet. Or he did not want to acknowledge.

If it were true, it meant more breaches in confidentiality than the cook could count. And that meant, technically, he was in danger.

“They are fine places to learn. But the people here shouldn’t have to miss out on good food because they don’t live around hipster bookstores and zero waste food stands.”

“Which one was it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where you learned. New York or Los Angeles?”

“You’re very interested in my history.”

“I am just an admirer of excellence. Especially for someone who feels he does not need to make note of the reputation that precedes him.”

There was a mild vexation welling up in Alvin. The kind that had not flared with an acidic warmness since his last time with Coco. He was being led to some conclusion or train of thought that the initiator wanted him to get to himself. He had a guide who wanted him to navigate to the gold. Treasure Alvin never insinuated he desired. It was eerily familiar.

“Well, thanks for your business. And the generous tip. I should be getting back—”

“Alvin.”

Confirmed. Instant stomach knot, throat lump, and near bowel movement. No one was supposed to know his real name. Matts was very explicit he would make contact on the burner phone in his glorified mobile home. The man sitting before Alvin was not some oddball customer who would request only the chef’s food upon every visit. He was a person of villainy?

“Who are you?”

“Come now. You cannot cook for the most dangerous individual, this side of the Mississippi, and not have other souls clamoring to meet the man behind the woman.”

Who was clamoring?

“What—”

“Joe, we gotta fire off these dishes, dude.”

Alvin looked back at the mystery man who knew too much. He was sure, with a convincing amount of alarm, he had been sought out. And from what he could tell, not even with a pinch of difficulty.

“Finish your shift. Bless others as you have blessed me. We will be in touch, Al. That’s what Coco called you, right?”

All Alvin could do was obey. He did not want to bring that bloody banquet hall to his sleepy, new town of residence. He did not want anyone else to be in the middle of his complicity.

Just get back to work.

He was probably powerless to do anything else.

***

Not another peep.

The next several days were peaceful. Probably some wiser-than-thou mind game from Alvin’s visitor.

He did seem to enjoy surprising Alvin – posing as Joseph – in Witness Protection. The cook’s guards were up. Even higher than during the time he spent with Coco.

He tried his best at living in obscurity. Even better than when he started months ago, after just having been displaced and upended by the Government.

He hated the feeling of a perfect stranger knowing who he was. No matter what the villain guy wanted, Alvin wished he would get it over with soon. So he could breathe again.

There was a viewing area from the kitchen to the front of the house where the diners sat. It was really just the firing area where ready dishes were placed before the waiters took them over to the customers. It was a space that would have fascinated Alvin as a child, but cooks mostly used it to gawk at well-endowed women, gossip about funny-looking patrons, and make contact with the manager and waitstaff.

Joseph never looked up from his work so much, since the visit. The only other time was when he was a scared culinary school pupil, making sure he executed the barking instructor’s orders correctly.

He knew his hiding name – by first call – for sure, after his encounter with another living, vocational antagonist. He stayed at the ready to spring into a new defensive.

Alvin was developing questions. Coco was their mutual point of contact. But who knew if some two-bit criminal, who thought he was the sophisticated exception, had clout that went as high up as his former employer?

The easy answer to come to: Coco was still around. Making moves. Probably hurting more people.

That bothered the cook.

Though people hurt others all the time. That was a more than established truth. It did not make Alvin feel better, but it was reality.

Another existence he was certain of was that Coco had become more