3
Two and a half weeks later, with Milford working out like a dream and Tanker in temporary charge of the kitchen, Rickey and G-man set off for their brief vacation. They’d have their cell phones along in case of emergency, but would otherwise be absolutely untethered from the restaurant, something that had only happened a couple of times since they opened the place. Rickey wasn’t in as good a mood as he’d hoped to be, but he was getting over it. The source of his irritation was a phone call he’d received at the restaurant that morning when he went in to get things squared away before they left:
“Hello, is that Chef John Rickey?” said a girl who sounded about sixteen.
“Yeah.”
“Please hold for my producer, Sylvia Chow.”
“What? No, listen, I’m here for twenty more minutes. If you got so
