Fred and Kelly. Once upon a time, chefs at the West Side and Inman Park shops, until sales at those restaurants started sliding, too. Just because you’re a chef doesn’t mean you should be running your own shop. Not everyone is cut out to be an entrepreneur.

“And what was the name of that line cook up at the Forum? The one you fired when his wife was about to get deported because he was spending too much time on the phone with his lawyer. Simon or Christian or something. Oh, and remember that mixologist you brought down from New York City to revamp the cocktail menu, only to send him packing as soon as he was done? Last I heard, he was slinging gin and tonics at the Dunwoody Country Club up the road. Any one of them would love to see Bolling Way blow up in smoke. Any one of them would have a reason to want revenge.”

“You’re a real asshole, do you know that?”

“You gotta admit I have a point. You really are your own worst enemy, aren’t you? And assuming all those people didn’t actually light the match...” He points a stubby finger at my face. “You know what they’d say about the fire, right?”

I shake my head and take off for the gate, not because I don’t know but because I do. I know exactly what they’ll say about the fire, just like a tiny part of me wonders if they might be right.

George’s answer chases me out of the yard: “They’d say it’s karma.”

T H E   I N T E R V I E W

Juanita: One of the articles that went viral after the home invasion was an anonymous piece on Medium, accusing Jade of being a gold digger.

Cam: Right, and the fact that no one was willing to attach their name to such trash should have told the public all they needed to know.

Juanita: So it’s not true?

Cam: When Jade and I met, I was driving a ten-year-old Honda Civic with questionable brake pads and a hole in the floorboard, and my mortgage on the leaky, rickety building that housed my first restaurant was deep underwater. Every penny I made went into that money pit, which is why I was crashing on a buddy’s couch in Grant Park at the time. I couldn’t afford rent and the health inspector would have had a fit if he found me sleeping under one of my dining tables. All that goes to say, if anybody was the gold digger in this scenario, it was me.

Juanita: How did the two of you meet?