I can't get no satisfaction,
All I need is some social reaction! -(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction 1965.

Inside the shelter, Evie was helping Vince Mac-hale, a large man in his sixties wearing a gray tuque and flannel shirt, pull custards from an industrial-sized oven. Possessing the build of a strip club bouncer and the fashion sense of a deep sea crab fisherman, Vince handled the confections with surprising efficiency. "I've never seen so many desserts." The former intern's brown eyes crinkled with pleasure. "How did you know the correct ingredient quantities without measuring anything, Vincent?"

"Being a former Navy cook, I know my way around a kitchen." He winked, expertly plating the custards. "And here's how I like to serve 'em. With a little garnish of mint." He added the green herb with a flourish.

Evie smiled. "Vince, you're the nicest person I've ever met. You remind me of my father. He served in the military his entire life."

"Mmm, they smell, heavenly!" Holding a canister of whipped cream, Deedee flounced over to peruse the golden desserts. She wore a spotless, white apron to protect her new, aqua green, silk chiffon dress. Leaning over the counter, she inhaled the custard's enticing aroma, careful not to soil the asymmetrical ruffles adorning her bodice.

"One can of topping won't be enough, Lady Dee. We're going need a few more." Vince delicately applied the garnishing touches as he spoke.

"I'll go see if there's any more cool whip in the freezer." On the way out, she cooed, "Sweethearts, you're both doing a great job."

Watching her depart, Prince, a shelter resident with an eerie resemblance to the real Prince, stopped fiddling with the rice cooker. Moseying over to Evie, he started his favorite pastime. Gossiping about men. "Honey, I heard about that brute, Raymond Sinclair. He should be tarred and feathered for the number he did on your self-esteem." He patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, babe. Your fairy godfather, Prince's here. I'll turn you into a real Audrey Hepburn, a.k.a Holly Go-Lightly." He smiled, encouragingly. "After I'm done raising your self-worth, no man will ever trod on you again. I promise." He struck a dramatic pose. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Evie smiled politely, moving the rest of the custards to the cooling racks. "I'm fine with who I am, Prince. Honestly, I don't think I have the chutzpah to be royalty."

"Oh honey, it has nothing to do with royal birth or noble bloodlines. It's all about self-respect. Before I ascended to my Gloriana status, I was a sneaker salesman in Queens. Under all that polished sugar and spice, I bet you're a real firebrand." He turned on a CD player that was sitting on the orange counter top. I Can't Get No Satisfaction blasted out of the speakers. Grabbing Evie by the hands, he cheerfully shouted, "Let's dance!" He strutted, grooving his hips to the rock-blues beat.

I-ya can't..get no..oh, sat-is-faction

"This is the Queen of soul's version," he shouted over the music. "Aretha! She paved the way for The Rolling Stones, those naughty boys."

Yea-ah, yea, yeah

Smiling, Vince leaned back against the counter, tapping his foot to the rhythmic beat.

"That's right, honey!" Prince testified, snapping his fingers and swinging his hips. "Don't let no man tell ya no useless information." Evie laughed as he pulled her out into the middle of the kitchen. Awkwardly, she started mimicking his funky mashed potato dance moves.

Deedee surprised everyone when she burst through the kitchen's swinging doors, flapping her arms like a psychedelic bat out of hell.

"Where's the whipping cream?" Vince called, shouting over the music.

"Forget the whipping cream." Wildly, she gestured towards the dining hall. "Evie, I think your dumb ass boss is out there."

Curious, Prince turned off the CD player, then trotted over to look out the swinging door's portal window. "I need to get a better view of this supposedly hot-assed, evil CEO," he informed everyone, standing up on tip toes.

"My boss?" Evie stopped mashing her imaginary potato and panicked. "What's he doing here?"

Vince stopped putting away the bag of Monk fruit he'd used to caramelize the custard. Curious, he joined Prince to peer out the kitchen door's small, round window. Wedging her bulk between them, Deedee confirmed her best friend's worst fear. "Yep, that's your asshole boss, alright. I bet he's here looking for you, Evie. I wonder what he wants?" She pressed her face against the glass. "Ooh, he does have a fine ass. No wonder you wanted to work at CENTIEN." Grinning, she fanned herself with a spatula.

"I wanted to work at CENTIEN because the company had a reputation of promoting women to positions of authority." Evie protested, vehemently.

"Mmm...I heard he had a bad breakup with a Japanese CEO's daughter," Prince surmised, starry eyed. "Supposedly, he was heartbroken over the girl. Someone named Satoshi."

Deedee exhaled through her nostrils. "I'm tired of giving men a fucking award for showing basic human decency."

There was a muffled commotion in the dining room. The three voyeurs stepped back as an authoritative voice could be heard demanding to talk with Miss Simmons. To Evie's chagrin, one of the black double doors swung open and her former boss stepped into the kitchen.

"You," Evie pointed at him. "God, I never wanted to see you again." Her eyes flashed with anger.

Taken back by her outburst, Raymond lapsed into his only self-defense. Disrespectful name-calling. "Wait a minute, Oompa Loompa. I came here to offer you the coveted marketing assistant position." He held up his hand in protest. "Just hear me out."

"Oompa Loompa!" Vince and Deedee shouted in horrified unison. Prince's lips formed a soundless O.

Ray tried to redress his faux pas. "Come on, Evelyn. Don't beat around the bush with me. I know you want that position. How can working in this shit-hole compare with working for CENTIEN?" He gestured to the food being prepped for dinner. "What childish housekeeping game are you playing, hiding out here?"

"That was about as smooth as sandpaper up the ass," Prince observed, dryly. Standing next to the rice cooker, he shouted encouragement to Evie. "I know he makes you crazy, sugar. Just ignore him."

Evie glared at Sinclair. "I'm not here to play games," she said heatedly. "This is my life now." She lifted her chest and jutted out her hip, adopting the royal Drag Queen stance Prince had showed her.

Deedee moved protectively in front of her newest hire. "Listen Mr. High and Mighty, you can't come in here and poach my employees."

"Don't worry, I only want this one." As Ray held Evie's gaze, Prince was sure he saw invisible sparks fly between them. "Evie, listen to me. I need you." He caught himself, but not before Deedee saw the flash of longing in his eyes. "I mean, CENTIEN needs you."

"All right, then. If you want her so bad, what're you offering?" Deedee pulled Evie out of Sinclair's reach, as if she was a strategic chess piece. "Let's discuss her salary and 401k." She crossed her arms, assuming her most brisk business manner.

"I'm not dealing with YOU, Oprah." He took a step towards Evie.

"You're in my kitchen. You'll abide by my rules, mister." Deedee blocked his path forward and offered him a vegetable peeler." Why don't you make yourself useful and prep those carrots in the sink while we discuss Miss Simmon's job offer. This shelter serves dinner in forty-five minutes."

"Evie, who is this person?" Sinclair demanded.

"THIS PERSON!" Deedee brandished the peeler like a rapier. Seeing prison yard hellfire in her eyes and the glinting blade, he took a step back.

He turned to Evie, desperate to leave the shelter as soon as possible. "Evelyn, be reasonable. I don't know what else I can offer you to come back to CENTIEN. Honestly, you're too talented to be working with these dredges of society."

Vince slammed into him like two hundred pounds of well-fed sumo wrestler. Using a halved pineapple, he pinned the CEO's head to the cutting board as if it were an oversized, ripe olive. Leaning into his ear, he hissed, "I know what you need to do, you rude ass bastard. You need to apologize."

Arms flailing, Sinclair wheezed. "This is between Evie and me, you raging rhinoceros!"

"I said you need to offer the lady a sincere apology. RIGHT NOW." Vince applied more pressure to the pineapple, juicing Raymond's eyes.

Ray winced as the stinging liquid seeped into them. "Ow. Let me go, you bastard!"

"He can flatten a month-old baguette with one hand." Deedee chortled, leaning over Sinclair. Evie watched, horrified, as her former boss attempted to free himself from the chef's vice-like grip. Clawing at the air, he grabbed Deedee's prized décolletage. Buttons flew as the fabric made a loud ripping noise.

"You son of a bitch." Deedee roared, snarling like a wild animal. "This is Dior." She reached for the machete, lying next to the cutting board.

"Deedee, no!" Evie screamed. Ignoring her, the Drag Queen snatched the whipping cream garnish off the counter. Non too gently, she shoved the canister's nozzle down Sinclair's throat, injecting him with thick, white cream until it exploded out of his nose.