It was close at the end, but I make it to the restaurant without puking in Vincent's lap. I'm almost disappointed. Wearing my puke on his expensive Armani suit would serve him right.
Lunch may have taken forever to reach our table, but waiting more than sixty minutes for a pizza is worth it once our server brings out the large deep-dish pizza with the sauce on top, the cheese bubbling. When my fork cuts into the gooey goodness Chicago pizza finds a place in my heart. I've had it before, but this is the best.
"Kens, I'm so glad you enjoyed the pizza," Everett says as he walks my boss and me to the car. "I'll see you both in twenty," he says to Vincent, but his gaze never leaves my face... or chest. I can't be sure which. He's the contact we're here to see, and I won't cause a scene even i
