All The Way (The Sarah Kinsely Story - Book #1) Read Free

country?”
    I didn’t. After the work I put in this last week at “Abraams and Snider” I considered asking how much the strip joints paid.
    “Don’t believe that for a minute.” Lizzy said slapping Angela’s arm.
    Peyton shook her head.
    “Yea, never believe the people in accounts. That is rule number uno.”
    Lizzy and Peyton smirked. Angela scoffed.
    The waiter brought our menus, we ordered drinks and spent the evening gabbing about this and that. I was happy that Peyton had basically forced me to come. The boxes could wait, she was right. This was fun and I needed it.
    “Is this one of your regular spots?” I asked trying to make small talk.
    “Yea,” Peyton said, “Brandon, the creative director you met on your first day, went to high school with the owner. If Lizzy wears a low cut enough dress we can usually get the waiters to give us free food. They know us here.” With that she took a long sip on her water and then snapped her fingers in the air.
    A man with a full beard wearing all black approached our table.
    “Oh ladies, not you again.” He was the most burly, effeminate gay man I had ever seen in real life. Not even New York could lay claim to the gay class of burly logger-man. Only in Portland could such a rare and beautiful specimen be found .
    “Hey Marcus, what can you do for us tonight?” Lizzy said pushing her arms together and nearly squeezing her breasts out of her dress.
    “Ha, girl you know that shit doesn’t work on me. If it ain’t sausage I ain’t cooking!” He gave Peyton a hi-five.
    I liked Marcus.
    “Go get the chef. I want to bust his balls for what happened last week.” Peyton was looking at a menu trying to keep a straight face.
    “Damn girl. You still mad about that? Ok, I will go fetch him for your highness.” Marcus twirled away and made his way to the kitchen. Even from our table we could hear his voice rise above the low hum of the restaurant as he called for the chef in the kitchen. I couldn’t help but smile.
    After about 10 minutes Marcus returned, a sullen look on his face.
    “I am so sorry to trouble you all-” he said.
    “But you are out of everything we ordered?” Peyton asked offhanded.
    “The chef has asked that you all come back to the kitchen.”
    Lizzy and Angela shot glances of surprise towards each other.
    Marcus looked as confused as we did.
    “Hell yes, we are going right now.” Lizzy tried to scoot and shove her way past me. I half fell out of the booth.
    “Wait,” Angela said, “Why does he want us to come back there?”
    The waiter shrugged his shoulders.
    “We are going.” Peyton said.
    This is why hanging out with your boss can be bad. You can’t say no when you really want to. I briefly considered trying to protest but realized I held little equity amongst the girls and was just as likely to get left behind. This was no time to try and stand out. Just follow the lemmings over the cliff for one night and everything would be fine.
    We followed Marcus through the restaurant.
    Marcus pulled us through the double doors that led to the kitchen and planted us in a corner out of the way of traffic. The aromas that had been teasing our pallet and causing our stomachs to growl earlier were stronger here in the kitchen. Cooks in white coats were whirling, twirling and flipping their pans. Fire danced and grew as orders were shouted from across the kitchen towards each other. The repetitive noise of knives chopping had a certain rhythm that combined everything together and made me feel like dancing. Or maybe it was just the booze. Either way, I felt a strange urge to grab Marcus and Tango across the kitchen.
    “Please wait here while the chef finds a moment.” Marcus said and left.
    I was wide eyed as I watched the cooks tending to their craft. Their motions were so fluid, so precise. They all had that calm look in their eye even though the kitchen itself looked like a mad house. I considered the obscene amounts of time I had spent over