It was hard to ignore the flour on the end of his nose. She didn’t care. She was still alive with no new holes.
Shay pointed toward his face. “Do I even want to know what that’s about?”
“What?”
“There’s something on your nose.”
Peyton rubbed the flour off with his hand.
“Do I want to know what that’s about?” He pointed at her shoulder and the stains on her shoes. “You taking on a side job before breakfast?”
“Something like that. I ran into Lily.”
Peyton’s face lit up. “Based on your clothes, did that go very well?”
“Well enough. Got a promise out of her to come back… under her terms.”
“I really like that girl and her misfit magic act.”
Shay gestured to his outfit, which consisted of Gucci loafers and Gucci skinny yellow jeans. “I get it. This one makes sense, for once. It’s supposed to be an Italian theme.”
Peyton beamed. “Exactly. See? I put a lot of thought into what I wear, but I don’t think you always realize that.”
“Oh, I realize it, but that’s not the same thing as liking it or having the theme make any sort of sense.” Shay chuckled. “And what was up with the flour on your nose? You practicing snorting drugs before you move on to coke or dust?”
Peyton laughed. “Nope. It’s all about pizza. I’ve been working on flour and crust lately.” He rubbed his hands together. “I found some new recipes and realized one of my issues is that all my ingredients aren’t premium, so it’s inspired me to change my strategy. The new Pizza King Peyton is all about premium.”
“Premium?”
“Yeah, like the olive oil I was using before. The olive oil we get in America is a joke. I might as well just have used spit.”
“That’s a bit strong.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
“So what’s your solution?”
Peyton smiled. “I had some shipped from Italy, along with several types of specialty flours.”
“You really need several different types of flours for your pizza?”
“Yeah. Totally. Some flours work better for different types of pizza. I’ve been doing a lot of experiments to figure what goes with what, and I’m slowly learning.” Peyton paced and gesticulated. “The thing is, the flour’s the foundation of everything. A house with a bad foundation’s going to collapse eventually, and a pizza with a bad foundation’s not going to taste good. So, yeah, I need to find the perfect flour if I don’t want crap pizza.”
“No one wants crap pizza, but you’re seriously gonna keep importing ingredients?”
Peyton waved a hand dismissively. “No, I’m not importing ingredients. I’m importing the key pieces of the foundation of a potential culinary masterpiece.”
“Your hobby’s getting expensive, but I guess it’s cheaper than coke, heroin, or dust.”
“There can be no compromise when it comes to pizza.” Peyton grinned. “You taught me that.”
“I haven’t seen any Chicago-style abominations from you, so there is some hope.”
The man stopped pacing. Shay began to wonder if he were even paying any attention to her.
Peyton looked up. “Sourcing quality ingredients are one thing, but that’s just part of the puzzle. You can have the best ingredients in the world, after all, and still produce garbage pizza.”
“And what’s the other part, then, oh aspiring Pizza King?”
“Timing and patience.” Peyton walked over to the pizza oven. “I was in too much of a hurry before. If you want a perfect crust, you need perfect dough. You need perfect flour for that, but even with that, you also need to give it proper time to rise.”
“And that’s what the nose flour was about?”
He nodded. “Exactly. I’ve been experimenting, and I’ve found that letting it rise most of the day makes for the best dough.”
“Most of the day?”
Shay gave him an appreciative nod and whistled. The few times she’d made pizza, she hadn’t put anywhere near the care Peyton was describing into the process. It was no surprise that she’d been unsatisfied with her efforts.
Peyton bobbed his head. “Yes, most of the day. But you have to be careful, or disaster can strike.”
Shay laughed. “Disaster? It’s just pizza. It’s not going to explode. Even your worst efforts just tasted awful. They didn’t poison me.” She tapped her bottom lip. “Then again, you managed to set the warehouse on fire, so that could easily have been a disaster.”
“That was the old me, not Pizza King Me.” Peyton shook his head. “And I was talking about being careful with the dough. Avoiding taste disasters.”
Shay crossed her arms. “How does a Pizza King avoid a taste disaster?”
Peyton lifted a finger. “By ensuring his dough doesn’t overrise. It’ll throw off the flavor and texture, so you have to keep an eye on it.”
“So, in other words, you’ve spent a lot of time babysitting dough?”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
“And what way would you look at it, then?”
“I prefer to call it foundation monitoring.”
Shay laughed. “Is this what you do all day when I’m not around? Just fuck around with pizza?”
“Not…all the time. I mean, I do other stuff.”
Shay didn’t mind, but she enjoyed poking Peyton.
Still, despite the horrors he’d unleashed in his first few attempts, he’d gotten damned good at making pizza, and it was a nice treat. Admitting that the pizza oven had been a good addition might be too much, but she wasn’t going to complain when she was getting such good food with no effort on her part.
“Speaking of timing…” Peyton grabbed his wooden pizza paddle. “Looks like the pizza is ready.”
“Smells good,” Shay admitted. “Very good.”
“I hope you’re ready for ham and pineapple.” He flourished the paddle like a sword.
“Do you want to die immediately, or should I stretch it out to make you suffer your crimes against pizza-kind?”
Peyton laughed and slipped the paddle under the pizza. He pulled it out, revealing pepperoni, just as Shay had smelled.
“That’s what I thought,” she commented.
He slid the pizza into a waiting tray. “Oh oh oh…I actually forgot the most important ingredient. The true foundation. The foundation under
