“Yes. Yes. Anything. If I could give you a kingdom, I would.”
“Just tell me who else knows I’m here.”
With the last bite, Pharaoh remembered himself and straightened up. He even did that dainty napkin dab on the corners of his mouth that never actually worked for cleaning your face. He closed his eyes for a moment. Much longer than someone demanding an answer would have been comfortable with.
Alvin was about to push for something when Pharaoh, fully affected, opened his yes and responded, “Just needed to collect myself.”
“Could you use a little more time?”
“Assure me there are scraps of my breakfast I can take home.”
“Consider yourself assured.”
“Thank you, “Pharaoh returned shakily. He almost lost it but got it back.
“The community from which I stem is not large. Word travels quickly.”
“Coco never seemed to communicate with anyone else but her superiors.”
“Skyrise.”
“What’s that?”
“The reason she did not need to consort with anyone on the outside. That is the name of her organization. It is the apex sponsor of our business.”
“They’re popular in your line of work?”
“Most of us who are serious about this manner of profession do our best to keep our ears to Skyrise’s footfalls. They tend to hire out on occasion.”
“I didn’t know villains were for hire.”
Pharaoh seemed to resent that, but he recovered in seconds, careful not to bite the hand that fed him.
“I cannot speak for the others, but I will do what I need to, to get my name out to the world. And you are not wrong. The prestige of such a contract would only help establish my career more succinctly.”
“What do you want to do?”
“You are still in contact with the Government, are you not?”
“Right. Covert ops for now.”
“Only until I am ready to dance in their faces.”
Whatever that meant.
“Will I be visited by your…peers?”
“I cannot say for sure. We are a network of villains and villainous types, only reconvening once every few or so months. You are a lofty topic in our circle. Something of a unicorn of support.”
“Any serious interest to look me up besides you?”
“Even if there were, believe me, we mean no harm.”
“I don’t mean that. I’m actually wondering if we could do the opposite.”
Alvin was not sure what he was initiating, but he knew he wanted to get next to Coco again. This was a route that had the most road to it so far.
“Think you could tell your friends about me?”
“A foodsmith to the fiery stars. I do believe you are breaking new ground, Chef Alvin.”
Chapter 9
Three to four orders a week. No more visits from colorful individuals who saw the law as a soft list of guidelines. Oddly, Alvin’s position was respected. And the system worked well enough. He created a menu of things he could easily do in his mobile home or at the diner. The food was going to be fresh, but the array of items held well, having been made frozen and shipped out.
Alvin was making some better than decent money again. Enough to buy the shipping boxes and labels. He was hoping his reputation would go ahead of him to the highest of stories where Coco had likely been working out of.
The cook was sure the big, bad cheese missed his food, and with a racket like the one he as developing, it started to become an easier thing to reach out to him. It was actually a fool-proof cover being in Witness Protection. He was not a suspect. His contribution had been received and the case had all but grown cold.
Maybe last year, Coco could have gone down in a bust. Who knew if her bosses would have advocated for her, or abandoned her. If she was going to stay in the business, she probably made the right move. She rushed to the top and became the business.
The crime lord could afford the better lawyers and had the money to fight whatever the government wanted to stick her with. She was in the wind and happy to hide in plain sight. She could do whatever she wanted.
But fraternizing with her ex-cook would light a fiery trail that would have led to her, and Coco did not want to risk that.
It was what Alvin was dealing with. It was impossible to surmise what she was mounting up on without speaking to her, or someone in her circle. So he became hot soup. Pharaoh would drop dead, mortified, that he made it all the way to the chef’s undisclosed place of residence and would never have been able to afford Alvin’s unofficial services – had he visited a month after the cook’s villain meal subscription scheme started.
He wanted to build an esteemed roster of clients. The highest of the white-collar variety. Discreetly. No major campaigns. Not even podcast advertisements for ten percent off your first order.
Alvin’s growing list of clients were more likely to associate with Coco. Someone would recommend him, or make a passing comment about his food. She would remember. Get jealous. And kick herself for not thinking of the mail option.
The chef just had to keep cooking and sending food out. He kept up his façade of a job, though he was starting to make several times the amount anyone would ever make in a diner’s kitchen.
A certain preoccupation also kept Alvin busy. But he was okay with a full schedule. The more he had to do and plan and cook, the more time he had to scrutinize everything about the last few moments with Coco.
She was careful. There really was no clue as to what she would be doing next. And why would she have expected Alvin to understand?
But they had a kinship few could relate to. They believed in working towards what they wanted. If his footsteps matched his former boss’ – somehow, there could be a chance encounter, and that would be all Alvin needed.
More time passed.
The chef was still
