Free God In The Kitchen by Brooke Williams

said, walking up to the booth as I got a side-glance from Ricky.
    “I’m glad you made it,” I returned, trying to get a look at Ian, who had his head buried in Chloe’s dark hair, which sparkled under the fluorescent lights. She was wearing it down and it was much prettier than it had been in a braid.
    “Me too,” she said. “Ian’s really excited, aren’t you baby?”
    Ian nodded quickly and continued to hide from me.
    “He’s a little shy,” she explained, “but he’ll warm up to you.” Then to Ian she said, “This is the man who gave us the tickets.”
    Ian pulled himself away from his mom and turned in my direction. His eyes grew wide as they looked me up and down and his face turned from serious to delighted. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was excited.
    “Oh, I almost forgot,” Chloe said, reaching into the purse she had slung over the other shoulder, “you must have dropped this back at the diner.” She held out a small slip of paper that I recognized as the check Cal had given me to pass on to the sales department.
    “Thank you,” I said, feeling a rush of relief run through my veins. I hadn’t even noticed it was gone. What would I have done if that had gotten into the wrong hands?
                I didn’t admit to Chloe that I didn’t know it was missing. Nor did I tell her how much it meant for me that she was the one to find it.
                “See you in there,” she said, turning away from the table and hauling Ian into the venue to find their seats.
                I nodded and waved and watched her walk away, wondering why Ian didn’t walk on his own. It looked a little awkward, her carrying him. He was obviously big enough and old enough to get around on his own. Maybe he was just scared with all of the people around.
                “Not much, huh Jones?” Ricky said, suddenly appearing at my side.
                “What?” I asked, trying to arrange the window stickers on the table into an orderly design once again.
                “I asked you what was up earlier and you said ‘not much.’ If you ask me, that girl is much more than ‘not much,’” Ricky had two fingers of each hand in the air, creating quotation marks as he elbowed me in the side. “I’m going to need some details, man. Lots of details.”
                Luckily, Ricky’s biggest fan, an older woman who always said she listened to him every day came up to the table at that point. I was able to sneak away so I could get backstage and prepare for the introduction I was going to do on stage in a little while.
                As I snaked my way past the “restricted access” signs and flashed my pass to several guards, I wondered what I would have told Ricky had we had more time.
                “Oh, that was just Chloe, I ran into her car a while back, fixed it for her, and then I gave her concert tickets after I found out where she worked. I really just want to help her son…he’s pretty sick.”
                It didn’t sound very likely. At least I would have time to work on my story before Ricky would ask again.
                “Jared Jones?” I turned at the sound of my name.
                “That’s me,” I said, extending my hand. The man standing before me was the band’s manager and the one who would give me the details on what I was to do on stage.
                “And then,” he said, “the stage will go black and you need to get back here as fast as you can so you don’t get disoriented.”
                I was pretty sure I would be disoriented as it was, on a black stage with a screaming crowd. But he was right, it would be worse having a rock band playing at full force all around me. If I was still there when the lights came back up, I would look like a real fool.
                As I tried to keep up with his quick pace, I