CHAPTER SIX HUNDRED and EIGHTEEN
Wednesday afternoon — 1:15 p.m.
New York City, New York
“Seth?” the second engineer asked.
Irritated, Seth groaned and looked up at the ceiling. He banged his hands down on the piano and whipped around. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“There’s a guy here to see you,” the second engineer said.
“You’d better check with the music editor because he’s pretty pissed,” Seth said.
“I sent him in here,” the music editor said. “He speaks English. He’s some kind of chef.”
The music editor turned to a man with brownish-skin. The man was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with a heavy sheepskin jacket over it.
“I speak fluent Spanish,” Seth said. “Among other things.”
“Sir,” the man said, in Spanish. “I was told that you own the historic corner building in Hell’s Kitchen.”
“Okay,” Seth said.
It sounded to Seth as if the man was from Spain.
“How can I help you?” Seth asked, in Spanish.
“You are Seth O’Malley,” the man said.
“The last time I checked,” Seth said. “Why?”
“I didn’t expect you to be so…” the man stopped talking.
“Sweaty?” Seth asked. “Annoyed?”
“Accessible,” the man said with a smile.
“Reminds me that my asshole is slipping,” Seth said. “I don’t mean to rush but those young people will kill me if I don’t get playing again.”
“Si,” the man said. “You have a restaurant space in your building?”
“I do,” Seth said. “Before you ask, it’s up to code, ready to go. The last restaurant needed a bigger space and we just never got around to replacing them. Why do you ask?”
“I am wondering if you would do me the honor of letting me use the space?” the man asked.
“For what?” Seth asked.
“I run food kitchens for hungry people,” the man said. “People here are out of work. They are being evicted by…”
Sneering, the chef said the person’s name.
“I’ve heard,” Seth said with a scowl.
“People need food,” the man said.
“What are you asking?” Seth asked. “Specifically? I’m sorry. I’m tired and in pain.”
The man gave a curt nod.
“I’d like to use your kitchen to make meals that we will pass out all over the city,” the man said.
“But not at the building?” Seth asked.
“Not if you don’t want them to be passed out there,” the man said.
“It’s fine with me,” Seth said. “Don’t you have those trucks?”
“I do,” he said.
“We have parking,” Seth said. “Most of our residents don’t have vehicles. We have plenty of space for your trucks. Did you talk with Claire?”
“I spoke with Bernice,” the man said. Switching to English, he added, “She said that you were sick of ‘jive talking turkeys.’”
“Ah,” Seth said, with a grin. “I take it you knew Big Daddy?”
Seth asked of Bernice’s legendary deceased mobster husband. The man gave a quick nod with his chin.
“You?” the man asked.
Denver Cereal continues tomorrow…
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