The Asshole App (Expanded Version) ✅ Wattys2023

𝟤𝟦 𝖱𝖺𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖽

"I'm not willing to put myself in the path of bodily harm to save the likes of him." Vince crossed his powerful, tattooed arms and glowered at the bedraggled CEO. I've dealt with the CIA, aka the Cocaine Import Agency. Those killers aren't high on my list of priorities to tangle with again."

Ignoring the intimidating chef, Sinclair sat up and swung his legs off the table. He was woozy and swayed on his feet when he tried to stand. "I know it's a hard pill to swallow," he rasped, "but we need to take these bastards down and stand on the right side of history." He placed his palm on the side of his head and winced. "It feels like someone slammed my skull with a two by four." He leaned against the counter.

Christ—that would have done less damage.

"The right side of history?" The ex-Navy Seal growled. "Your company makes a killing with illegal government contracts. Now that the military wants to kill you, you've suddenly grown a conscience?"

Listening intently, Evelyn went to the sink and filled a glass with water. She handed Raymond two aspirins. He accepted the pills, his fingers lingering on the silky skin on the back of her hand. "Thanks, Evelyn."

"I prefer Evie." She pulled her hand away and leaned her hip against the sink. "Never call me an Oompa-Loompa again." She wrinkled her delicate nose. "I find that term demeaning."

Raymond coughed. "It's meant as an affectionate term. Please, call me Ray."

Evelyn narrowed her eyes. "God, you really piss me off sometimes—don't call me that again, Ray."

"I won't," he added quickly, then turned back to Vince. "I didn't agree to supply their black ops. My CFO went behind my back."

Vincent clenched his jaw. "Have you forgotten how this bastard mistreated you? Don't go soft on me, Evie." He looked at the others. "Why should any of us help this idiot?"

Raymond took a step forward, clenching his fist. "Leave it to you to bring up that misunderstanding."

Vincent guffawed. "Misunderstanding, my ass."

Deedee picked up a rolling pin. "Stop arguing you two." They both looked at her. "Wash your hands--we need to get busy. Sonia says people are waiting to eat."

Raymond opened his mouth to respond, but The Drag Queen's fierce glare transfixed him. "Stop, or I'm going to rain holy hell down on the both of you. Whatever it is, it can wait," Her dark eyes flashed as she washed her hands and bustled around the kitchen. Deftly, she pulled the stock pot of boiling potatoes off the stove top and dumped them into a stand mixer with a whisk attachment.

Evelyn brought over milk, butter and seasoning and took over mashing the tubers. She added salt and pepper and whipped them until they came out nice and fluffy. Finished, she moved over to finish the salad trays she'd started. Vincent came over to her workspace and transferred heaps of steaming mashed potatoes into tin serving trays. Vincent, Deedee and Evelyn fell into a natural rhythm and worked as a team.

"Vince, how's that ravioli?" Deedee called as she pulled various beverages out of the refrigerator.

The ex-navy Seal pulled his ravioli lasagna dishes from the oven and examined them. "Perfecto."

Feeling left out, Raymond leaned against the counter and admired the crew's culinary skills.

"Here, Prince, take these out." Deedee handed him two trays of piping hot potatoes. " And don't forget the gravy," she called after him. "I'll bring out the turkey."

"Wait," Raymond said. "Do you have any cake?"

"Can't you see we're busy," Vincent barked. Sweat beaded his brow. "Why are you demanding cake?"

"There's an old guy out there in a raincoat." Raymond gestured towards the dining hall. He said it's his birthday." There was a beat of silence. "He was in rough shape."

Deedee stared at him thoughtfully with her dark eyes. "That's Roger. He has fourth stage cancer," she said. She looked at Vincent. "I have a white sheet cake in the fridge. I was saving it for tomorrow."

"Everyone needs cake on their birthday," Vincent announced. "We'll serve the custards tomorrow." He walked over and pulled the vanilla iced cake from the refrigerator. "We'll have to slice it small to make sure everybody gets a piece."

Raymond stood up. "Let me help—I'll cut it."

Vincent didn't respond, but the tension eased in his neck and shoulders as he handed Raymond a sharp knife. Evelyn watched Raymond carefully slice the cake with uncanny precision. Against her will, the corners of her mouth turned up. She moved closer, but he shook his head. "I don't need any help."

She felt a stab of pain in her heart. "Why do you have to always diss me?"

He paused, "I don't know."

*(Picture is Tom Cruise in War of the Worlds.)