The Asshole App (Expanded Version) ✅ Wattys2023

𝟤𝟧 𝖤𝗏𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖠𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

After the homeless guests were served, Raymond and the others settled in the kitchen. Hearing loud bangs and thumps coming from the pantry, Deedee grinned. "That agent's bout as angry as a bobcat who backed into a horny porcupine."

She turned to Raymond. "I liked how you considered Roger's feelings and treated him like a real person. You gave him a few minutes of joy when you made sure he got a slice of birthday cake. He's not long for this world." She smiled. "There might be hope for your grinchy ass yet."

Raymond gestured towards the dining hall. The facility had emptied, but a few homeless people lingered at the tables. "Most of these people look like they're starving. Why don't they eat enough if the shelter's open all day?"

"Unfortunately, we aren't able to serve lunch. These poor souls depend on the shelter for an evening meal. For most of them, this is the only hot food they'll get all day."

Raymond was surprised. "Really? I thought vagrants came here to eat throughout the day. It's freezing outside."

People do come in here to warm up," she said. "Those who are using have no interest in eating." She made a helpless gesture. "I wish our kitchen could serve a full daily menu." Her expression betrayed a poorly concealed hidden sorrow. "I have great cooks." Deedee smiled at Vincent and Evelyn.  "Unfortunately, the shelter doesn't have enough funds right now," she said. "The asshat mayor won't help and corporate donations have been dwindling. But you wouldn't know about that, would you, Sinclair?" Deedee shot him a scathing look. Abashed, Raymond lent a hand getting their dinners on the table.

"All right everyone, dinners served." After saying grace, Deedee removed her apron that was spotted with food, grime, and blood. "Let's eat." She handed the disheveled CEO a plate piled high with food.

He tasted the mashed potatoes. "These are great, Evie." He ate another mouthful.

His former intern smiled as she passed him a dish of glazed carrots. "My Aunt Clara taught me to cook. The only vegetables she used were the ones she grew in her garden."

Deedee grabbed a cob of buttered corn and nibbled on it. "Now that you're a fugitive, tightwad, what do you have in mind?" The five of them finished dinner in record time.

"I'm not sure." He stood up and paced the room while the others washed dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. His gaze fell upon black tactical bag that Mercer had left on the kitchen counter. Ignoring the bustling activity, and Deedee's demand that he lend a hand, Sinclair rooted through the CIA clown's stash of psychotropic drugs. His heart leapt when he found his stolen smart phone zipped into a side pocket. "Ha! I have my cell—I know what I have to do."

The others stopped what they were doing and watched as he grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair. "I need to get back to CENTIEN. I didn't kill Dennis —now I can prove it."  Sinclair held up the video of a deep fake. "CENTIEN invented this software. I can show everyone how they did it."

"Using your own nefarious software against you, how diabolical." Vincent wiped his hands on a dish towel. "I hope you've learned your lesson. Being an arrogant ass to your employees will make them hate you, but being an asshole to the CIA will get you killed."

"I need to get my company back," Raymond insisted.

"Wouldn't it be better to stay here and contact the authorities?" Evelyn asked. The corners of her mouth turned down as she crossed her arms. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"I don't give a crap." CENTIEN's CEO and the former intern heatedly stared at each other, neither of them willing to back down.

Evelyn crossed her arms. "The drugs and death of your friend are making you irrational."

"You just stood up to me." Immensely pleased, Raymond smiled, crookedly.

"How apropos," Evelyn said. "Now you admire me."

"Cool your asses down." Vincent admonished the two love birds." He pointed his fork at Raymond. "You're not going anywhere near that place. We need to stick you in a bunker."

"What about me?" Prince asked. "What should I do? Pack for an overnight stay in the bunker too?"

"You stay here and oversee the cleanup," Deedee soothed. "I'm counting on you. Here." She handed him a tray of food. "Slide this under the pantry door for big foot. And be careful he doesn't bite you. With all that hair, he might have rabies."

She pulled out agent Mercer's phone. "We have a while before shit gets real and his friends start tracking us. I've been updating his associates and pretending I'm him to throw them off the trail. So what do you plan to do? Go lone wolf on their asses?" She pushed away her plate and burped.

"If you have a safe place for me to stay, I'll go along with your plan," Raymond said, exhausted. "I appreciate your help." Oddly, he found himself trusting Vincent and Deedee's judgement, even after they'd nearly killed him. Instinctively, he trusted Evelyn with his life.

"All right, it's settled. We're moving the package." Deedee lifted her arm and opened her hand with the palm facing forward. "Keys." Raymond threw her the key card to his Tesla.

"Are you ok, Prince?" She looked over to where he was juggling dishes and putting away utensils.

"Not really—I'm kind of in the belly of the beast here."