Chapter 9
Not that it could happen Malcolm’s glaring eyes told each and every one of them.
By ten thirty, all Malcolm wanted was a coffee and a nap before lunch started. So he bristled with enough annoyance to signify the alighting of a billion gnats on wet skin when he heard his name called. Then spent several seconds questioning whether he should, in fact, look at being medicated.
“Chef? Sir? Can you…” He heard the voice drift as though turning around. “Can he hear me? Is he all right?”
“Of course, doll,” Malcolm heard Pina answer. “He’s just ignoring you. It happens.”
“I—” The woman’s voice began again. “Will he listen to you then?”