Revenge of the Bully Page 4

  Chapter 5

  PULLED INTO A MEETING

  In the days that followed I did everything possible to ask Josie about a second date with Trevor, but there was a problem. Jessica. She still wasn’t talking to me and the last thing I needed was for her to see me with Josie—or to hear about it from someone else. Three different times I had approached Josie in the hallway only to have Kayla pop up out of nowhere and give me one of her knowing, angry looks.

  I finally got my chance late one morning while Jessica and Kayla were outside for gym. Josie had been excused from gym for a week after a particularly nasty split during cheerleading practice. I noticed her alone in the library and decided to bring up a different nasty split.

  “So,” I began, “I heard from Trevor that you won’t return his phone calls.”

  She stuck her finger down her throat and pretended to throw up on the floor.

  “Oh come on, he’s not so bad,” I said.

  “He took me to a drag race. Me! Do you know how gross it was?”

  “It was a demolition derby, and he did buy you dinner.”

  At the mention of the infamous hot dog, Josie’s face twisted into such a disgusted expression that I really did expect her to throw up. She limped off toward the bathroom.

  I had my work cut out for me. Before long, Trevor would run out of patience. For the time being, however, I was safe.

  Or so I thought. Later that same day, Rishi, Josh, and I were walking home from school, joking around and enjoying the beautiful September afternoon. Josh began to lag behind but I was used to that. A crack in the sidewalk was enough to distract him. Rishi was in the middle of a story when I began to notice a car engine idling in back of us. I could also hear tires crunching very slowly over sandy gravel. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. This was all too familiar. Last year, my crazy teacher Mrs. Lutzkraut and her nutty friend Long Nose had followed me all through my neighborhood. Were they inching along with me now? It couldn’t be! Mrs. Lutzkraut was supposed to be “resting” for a few months in a place called Shady Pastures.

  I glanced back slowly. There was a car following us all right, but it was a black limousine.

  “Ooof,” I gasped, colliding with something soft yet solid. I found myself eye-to-eye with the buttons on a beige dress shirt.

  “Are you’s Rodney Rathbone?” a deep voice asked. I peered up at an enormous man. He had a big face that matched his large belly. A large strange man asking for me by name. Definitely not good.

  I was about to run off screaming. I turned to Rishi and whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

  Instead, Rishi took a step closer to the stranger. “To answer your question, yes, this is Rodney Rathbone, but you’ll need to talk to me. I handle all his business affairs.”

  Another man was climbing out of the limo. He wore a bright ugly shirt and tilted hat. He looked at Rishi. “What are you, his lawyer?”

  Rishi looked unfazed. “I prefer agent. Rishi Singh, at your service.” He handed both men his card. “What can I do for you?”

  Ugly Shirt said, “I like this kid. He’s good with da words. You like him, Cheese?”

  The big guy, who I guessed was named Cheese, grunted. I couldn’t tell if it was a yes or no grunt.

  Ugly Shirt said, “Look kid, the guy we work for wants to talk to Rodney. My name’s Willy and this here is Cheese. Whadaya say we take a little ride downtown?”

  The idea of a limo ride with these two seemed like the worst idea in the world.

  “Sounds great,” Rishi said.

  “What?” I squeaked. “Listen, it looks like a nice car and all, but we prefer to walk. Nice day and besides—”

  “That’s right,” Rishi cut in, “my clients are in training.” He motioned to Josh, who had finally caught up with us. “Josh, meet Mr. Cheese and Mr. Willy.”

  Josh yawned.

  Willy continued. “Anyway, you’s can walk then. Walk on down to Mama’s Restaurant. It’s under a mile away. No reason to be afraid—”

  “I ain’t afraid of nothin’!” Josh barked.

  “Dis is da one I like,” Cheese said, pointing at Josh.

  “That makes sense. He’s like a mini you.”

  “Who you callin’ mini?” Josh snapped, taking a few steps toward Willy.

  “The Boss might want to talk to this one too.” Willy laughed. “We’ll see you at Mama’s. You know where it is?”

  “Yes,” said Rishi, looking at his phone. “You can tell Mr. Boss we should be there in twenty minutes.”

  “It’s not Mr. Boss. Boss isn’t his last name. He’s the boss, because he owns the restaurant, and he don’t like to be kept waiting, so make it quick.” The two of them climbed into the back of the limo and drove off.

  What did they want with me? And who was this Boss? I had lots of questions but knew one thing for sure. No way was I heading to this meeting. I went to take the left toward home.

  “Where are you going, Rodney?” Rishi asked.

  “Home.”

  “What do you mean? We have a business meeting in fifteen minutes. I told you my hard work would start to pay off. One of the town’s big shots wants to meet you. He must be important if he’s called Mr. Boss.”

  “Look Rishi, something feels a bit strange about these guys. I have homework and my parents will expect me . . .”

  “No they won’t. I just texted your father that you’re eating over my house. This, Rodney, is called opportunity. And what kind of friend, what kind of agent, would I be if I let you take the turn toward home? What do you think, Josh?”

  “Huh?”

  “See? He understands. Now, let’s go.” And of course, against my better judgment, I followed.

  As we rounded onto the main street in town Rishi shouted, “Look, there it is.” He pointed to a building with a green awning over a white-tile entranceway. Above the awning was an unlit neon sign that read, mama’s. In the window was another sign: opening soon. It was only when we got closer that I noticed a smaller sentence below: and you’s better show up.

  I glanced up and down the street hoping to spot a convenient police car. The only car was the black limo parked in front. I could hear its engine rattling, cooling down. Otherwise, the street was empty. Second, third, and fourth thoughts swept my mind but before I had a chance to voice them, Rishi and Josh walked into the restaurant. Once again, I had no choice but to follow.

  Inside it was dark. A few beams of daylight shined in through the slats of thick wood blinds. A couple of green lights hung above a wood bar that ran the length of one side. Twenty or so tables dotted the room. I noticed a bartender with rolled up sleeves and a bald guy with some gray hair above his ears and heavy, black-framed glasses. He wore a jogging suit and sat at a table writing something in a big book. Besides them, the room was empty.

  “Here we are,” Rishi announced.

  “You Rodney?” asked the guy at the table.

  “No, I’m his manager.”

  “Well the Boss only wants to talk to Rodney.” He looked at Josh and me and asked Rishi, “Which one of dem is Rodney? The runt or the big guy?”

  The scared, shaking runt, I wanted to answer. “Me,” I volunteered.

  “Good.” His glasses made his eyes seem twice as big as normal. “Go back through that door.”

  “I usually do most of Mr. Rathbone’s business planning,” Rishi began. “I’d better talk to Mr. Boss with him—”

  “You’d better sit!” the guy shouted. “And it’s just Boss. None of this Mr. Boss stuff. Got it?”

  Rishi didn’t answer. Instead he climbed onto a bar stool and tapped the wood bar. “I’ll have a stiff one.”

  The bartender just stared at him.

  “Make that a Coke,” Rishi said, smiling.

  The bartender reached for a glass and looked at Josh. “What about you,
big fella? What can I get you to drink?”

  “A drink,” Josh said.

  While this brilliant exchange was underway, Cheese and Willy stepped out from the back room. “All right, enough gabbing. The Boss is waiting. Come on, Rodney.”

  Rishi called out, “Don’t sign anything without me reviewing it first!”

  The guy at the table muttered, “Dis kid,” and shook his head. Then he looked up at me as I passed by with Willy and Cheese. His big eyes behind his glasses were blank and told me nothing of what to expect on the other side of the door. To be honest, I was as curious as I was scared.

  The old, heavy door swung open. A man who I guessed was the Boss sat behind a huge wooden desk. His hair was dark brown and slicked straight back. A smile broke across his wide, clean-shaven face. “Rodney, thank you for accepting my invitation here this afternoon.”

  “What, I had a choice?” I said as I sat down in one of two leather chairs facing the desk.

  The Boss laughed. “You a funny kid, Rodney. I heard you had a big mouth. I like funny people. They make me laugh. Watch this. Hey Cheese, what kind do I have in the drawer?”

  I heard Cheese inhale noisily. “Provolone.”

  The Boss clapped his hands together. “Man’s a genius. Can sniff out a slice of cheddar from thirty paces.”

  At least I now knew how he got his name, but that’s all I knew. How did this Boss guy know my name, and that I had a big mouth? How did he know anything about me? I was about to find out.

  “So Rodney, I guess you’re wonderin’ why you’s sittin’ here today.”

  “The thought crossed my mind.”

  “Well, first let me say that all of us is big fans of yours. Them McThuggs have been quiet for a year. Now, we can certainly handle those boys, but you know handling problems can be, shall we say, bad for business. Also, I hear you’re the new running back on the G-Men. I like football.”

  I was about to ask how he knew I was the running back when he said something that really shocked me. “Anyway, the real reason you’s here is your mother.”

  My mom? I hadn’t seen that coming. Did she think I should get a part-time job or something?

  “She’s the new food critic for the paper,” he continued, “and we is opening a new restaurant here. Do you know what a restaurant needs to be successful?”

  “Good food,” I answered.

  The Boss shook his head. “No.”

  “Good service?” I tried again.

  Looking impatient and kind of angry he shook his head again.

  “Nice decor?” I tried. “Reasonable prices?” I spat. I didn’t like the change in his expression.

  “You obviously know nothin’ about the restaurant business, kid. Why should we waste our money hiring an expensive chef or fancy-pants decorator?”

  “Because people come here to eat?”

  “No, they come here because someone tells them it’s good. Someone they trust. Someone like a food critic. Someone like your mom.”

  “You want my mom to write a good review for your restaurant?”

  “Ah, a quick learner.”

  “But she’s not going to write a good review if you don’t have good food.”

  The Boss smiled at me. It wasn’t the kind of smile that made you feel all warm and fuzzy. He said, “Why do you think you’re sitting here, Rodney? Just to chat? I got my own bratty son at home to annoy me. Your mom will write a good review, because you’re going to convince her to.”

  I understood. I understood I was in big trouble. “My mom doesn’t listen to anything I have to say. She’s not—”

  “I told you that I like football. I wanted my son to play, but he spends all his time on music, composing some phonies.”

  “Symphonies?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. He wants to go to this joint called Juilliard. I say what about Ohio State?”

  “Go Buckeyes!” I added, trying to stay on his good side.

  The Boss nodded. Then his forehead creased and his eyes went cold. “But I didn’t bring you down here to talk about the Phil Moronic Orchestra. I want to talk about your career. Now, you get me a nice little restaurant review in the Cleveland Plain Dealer and I’ll see you get whatever you want, on or off the field. Let’s just say I got connections in dis town. You understand, Rodney?”

  I nodded, though understanding what he was saying did little to lift my spirits.The Boss smiled wide and banged his palms on his desk. “Now we’s coming to an understanding. Conducting business, you could say. I know you’re gonna get us that good review. You do that and we’re friends. You don’t, and, well . . .”

  Willy spoke up. “Let’s just say it’s healthier to be on the Boss’s good side.”

  “So, Rodney,” the Boss continued, “do you want to be friends?”

  “Uh, I can’t think of anything better.” How I managed the lie with a straight face I’ll never know.

  “Rodney?”

  “Yes, er, Mr. Boss?”

  “Not Mr. Boss. I hate when people say Mr. Boss! It’s just Boss. Now, where was I?”

  “You were yelling at me that we should be friends.”

  “Right! So listen . . . you’re not going to go talking about our business, are you? That’s not what friends do.”

  “I won’t say anything,” I promised.

  “Well that’s good. Not that anyone would listen. We is pillars of the community.”

  My nervousness was building and since my well-being depended on the success of this restaurant, I asked, “What kind of food are you going to serve?”

  “Russian Italian, like I had growing up.”

  “Russian Italian? Who’d want to eat that?” It was out before my slow brain had a chance to filter it. His eyes darkened and I scrambled to recover. “I mean, it’s just that I never heard of mixing Russian and Italian. I . . .”

  “What, you never had borscht parmesan or cabbage pizza?” the Boss asked. “I ate it every day. I got a Russian dad and an Italian ma.”

  Just the thought of eating that made my stomach gurgle and I could taste my lunch in the back of my throat.

  “Great stuff. The kinda food that puts hair on your chest.” He looked over at Willy. “Give Rodney a menu.” Willy took a sheet of paper off a shelf and stuck it in front of me. “Now,” the Boss continued, “tell me dis don’t make you hungry.”

  I started reading the menu.

  Herring Parmesan

  Pigs Feet Parmesan

  Poached Fish Parmesan

  Matzo Balls Parmesan

  “So, what do you think?” the Boss asked.

  That I’m as good as dead. There was no way my mother was going to give this place a good review. Instead, I managed, “Interesting.”

  “Want to try some of it?” Willy asked.

  Before I had a chance to scream “No!” there was a knock at the door.

  “What?” the Boss yelled out.

  The bald guy with thick glasses stuck his head into the room. “Sorry to bother you, but I can’t take it no more.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Rodney’s friend, the little one. He’s driving me nuts. He won’t shut up about how much money he can make us.”

  “Oh yeah?” the Boss asked. “Well bring him in. I think Rodney and I are done with our talk. Right, Rodney?”

  I didn’t answer, and I didn’t pay attention as Josh and Rishi joined us in the back room. I was too busy thinking about the Boss and what to do next. He hadn’t exactly said anything bad, but somehow I got the feeling he could make my life miserable if I didn’t go along with him. Plus I didn’t trust Willy or Cheese or those other goons out front. . . .

  “Have you set a marketing budget?”

  I looked up. Rishi was talking excitedly. Everyone in the room was staring at him like he taugh
t advertising for a living.

  “Never mind da budget for now,” the Boss said, “what do you think of our slogan? And our website?”

  I realized in shock that Rishi was sitting in the Boss’s seat behind the desk. They had placed a laptop in front of him. Rishi looked at the computer screen and read out loud, “Eat at Mama’s, or else. Yeah, well it’s catchy and all, but maybe—”

  “Check out our social media campaign,” Willy added.

  Rishi read, “Like us on Facebook, or else. Well it’s a good start. Maybe we could tweak it a bit. Have you considered any e-blasts? Do you have a Twitter account? Are you running any other promotions, like coupons to build a following? Have you been in touch with the local papers? Let me take a look at your press release . . .”

  “Rishi, are you ready?” I asked.

  “Just a minute, Rodney. I need to add some color to this web page . . .”

  “You know what?” the Boss said to Cheese and the other guys. “I kinda like these kids. They got smarts. Maybe we can put them to work. What do you think?”

  Rishi looked up at him from the laptop.

  “Yeah, it’s a good idea,” Willy answered. “They can start hanging flyers around town. You know, spread the word about the restaurant opening.”

  I knew that getting in any deeper with these guys would be a real bad idea. I said, “As much as we’d love to spread the word, we have a lot of schoolwork . . .”

  Rishi opened his mouth to back me up—or so I thought. “Don’t worry, Rodney. I can handle two jobs. You’re still my priority. We’d love to get more involved. Is it too soon to talk about compensation?”

  The Boss laughed. “Again with da money. Don’t worry. We pay very well.”

  Rishi looked so excited I thought his eyes were going to pop from his head. He turned to Josh. “What do you think? Want to make some money?”

  “I like money,” Josh said.

  That seemed to decide it. The Boss reached out his hand and Rishi gripped it, only too happy to shake the hand of his new employer. “And now,” the Boss said, looking down at Rishi, “the first order of business.”

  “What is it?” Rishi asked, grinning.