Evelyn watched as the corpulent cook pulled custards from an industrial-sized oven. She noted how he 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, Vince?"

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

"Nice work. I like to see a real pro on the job." She smiled. "Vince, you're the nicest person I've ever met. You remind me of my uncle—he served in the military his entire life."

He grinned. "Thirty two years and I must have sailed around the world fifty times." He opened the large stainless steel refrigerator on the other side of the room. "We should whip up some deviled eggs. Those are always a crowd pleaser."

Evelyn heard hurried footsteps. Turning around, she saw Deedee, wearing three-inch snake green heels, waltz through the kitchen's side entrance. The drag queen moved with the powerful grace of a panther warming up before breaking into a sprint. The sensual, fruity fragrance, Fantasy, by Brittany Spears, wafted into the room and overwhelmed her olfactory senses.

"Mm...mm, those custards smell heavenly." Holding a canister of whipped cream, Deedee flounced over to peruse the golden desserts. She tied on a spotless, white apron to protect her new, aqua green, silk chiffon dress. Leaning over the counter, she inhaled the dessert's enticing aroma, careful not to soil the asymmetrical ruffles adorning her bodice.

"That a new perfume?" The chef grinned. "You smell like a boulangerie I used to visit. They made the best croissants in New York City.

"Isn't it divine?" she purred. "It's a delicious mix of litchi, golden quince and kiwi, with hints of jasmine and white chocolate."

"That reminds me. 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.

The Drag Queen grabbed a set of keys from a peg on the wall. "I'll go see if there's any cool whip in the freezer." On the way out she cooed over her shoulder, "Sweethearts, you're both doing a great job."

Watching her departure, Prince, a shelter resident with an eerie resemblance to the funk and soul pop singer, stopped fiddling with the rice cooker. Moseying over to Evelyn, 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, aka Holly Go-Lightly." He flashed a wide grin. "After I'm done raising your self-worth, no man will ever disrespect you again. I promise." He struck a dramatic pose and arched the sole of his David Bowie special edition Converse sneaker. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Evelyn smiled politely as she moved 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 Formica countertop. I Can't Get No Satisfaction blasted out of the speakers. Grabbing Evelyn by the hands, he strutted, grooving his skinny jean clad hips to the rock-blues beat. "Let's dance!"

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

"This is the Queen of soul's version," Prince howled over the music. "Aretha! She paved the way for The Rolling Stones, those naughty boys." He raised his hands in the air.

Yea-ah, yea, yeah!

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

"That's right, honey!" Prince testified as he snapped his fingers and swung his hips. "Don't let no man tell ya no useless information." Evelyn laughed as he pulled her out into the middle of the kitchen. She twisted her toe on the floor and mimicked his funky mashed potato dance moves.

Flapping her arms like a psychedelic bat out of hell, Deedee surprised everyone when she burst through the kitchen's swinging doors. She skidded to a halt in the center of the room.

"Where's the whipping cream?" Vince shouted over the music.

"Forget the whipped 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 and trotted over to look out the swinging door's round portal window. "I need to get a better view of this supposedly hot-assed, evil CEO," he informed everyone. He stood up on tip toes.

"My boss?" Panicked, Evelyn froze. "

What's he doing here?

Vince stopped putting away the bag of Monk fruit he'd used to caramelize the custard. He joined Prince and peered out the kitchen door's small, circular 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." Evelyn placed her hands on her hips and scowled.

"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 Evelyn's chagrin, one of the black double doors swung open and her former boss stepped into the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" She pointed her finger 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. It's a good thing our paths crossed again. I came here to offer you the coveted marketing assistant position."

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

Sinclair held up his hand in protest. "Just hear me out." His gaze was drawn to the shape of her ass in the tight skinny jeans. He dragged his eyes away, and then looked again at her butt.

"Come on, Evelyn. Don't beat around the bush. You can't fool me. I know you want the position. How can working in this condiment carnival-shit-hole compare with working for CENTIEN?" He gestured to the food being prepped for dinner. "What childish housekeeping game are you playing?" Raising his eyebrows, he made a small questioning gesture with his hands. "Why are you 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 Evelyn. "I know he makes you crazy, sugar—just ignore him."

The former intern glared at Sinclair. He had used the same derisive tone when he humiliated her during the marketing meeting. Her blood boiled. "I'm not here to play games." Her face grew flushed. "This is my life now." She lifted her chest and jutted out her hip, adopting the royal Drag Queen stance Prince had shown 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 Raymond held Evelyn's gaze, Prince was sure he felt invisible sparks fly between them. "Evelyn, 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 Evelyn 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 Evelyn.

"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."

"Evelyn, 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.

Desperate to leave the shelter as soon as possible, he turned to his former intern. "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 Evelyn 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 and juiced Raymond's eyes as he enunciated each word.

Sinclair 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 as she leaned over him. Evelyn watched, horrified, as her former boss attempted to free himself from the chef's vice-like grip. Clawing the air, he grabbed Deedee's prized décolletage. Buttons flew as the delicate fabric made a loud ripping noise.

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

"Deedee, no!" Evelyn 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 and injected him with thick, white cream until it exploded out of his nose.