Marlene grins. “And have more than just one crazy ex-husband to work with.”

I give it right back to her. “Or a grumpy ex-wife, too.”

Dodd’s head goes back and forth during our repartee, like an audience member during a tennis match.

“So that would be a dream,” he says, smiling at me.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Dodd flashes a wide grin, revealing his perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth.

“Caleb, let me ask you this: what if I could make that dream a reality?”

CHAPTER 12

Even with the outside noise of New Orleans and the cheerful conversation inside among our fellow diners, it seems very quiet and still at our table.

I look at Dodd, astonished and confused. “You want me to come and work here?”

LBD is a nice spot for a unique dinner, but it’s definitely not my cup of tea, and under the table, I get a gentle kick from Marlene.

“No, no, no,” Dodd replies, waving his hands around wildly like a conductor at the climax of a symphony. “But imagine if you two had a place like this of your own.”

I now look to Marlene and she returns my gaze. This just went from “no way” to “do tell us more.”

“You mean, a Killer Chef restaurant?” Marlene asks.

“Exactly!” Dodd says. “Your truck is a modern culinary institution in this city. I’m talking the same great menu. The same great food. The same great owners. But instead of waiting in line in the hot sun for an hour, your patrons can sit back and relax in a comfortable, classy establishment just steps from Bourbon Street.”

Marlene and I share a look. It’s an intriguing idea, no doubt about it. But I’m not about to say yes straight away.

Then Dodd gently touches my hand and then Marlene’s, and ups the ante. “You two are great. Talented. Skilled. But none of us are getting any younger, are we? With comfort for the patrons, there’d be something for you. Air-conditioning. Additional kitchen help. The latest in stoves and fryers. And like you both said, room to move around, a place to take a break. And your own restroom!”

Now he’s in full salesman mode, and I’m still being cautious. But the thought of working in a cool environment, without smoke billowing around my face, constantly bumping into Marlene, getting splattered by hot grease, well, it’s beginning to sound better and better.

I take a breath, keep my gaze on Marlene, my partner.

“A lot of what we serve, as I’m sure you know, is casual fare,” I say. “Po’boys and fries. That kind of thing. That’s what our customers love. Do you really see that working in a fancy place like this?”