Chương 4
She stood near the vending machine, trying to decide how to get her phone, her coat, and the tips locked in her locker. The subway still ran, but the walk from the station to her apartment would be twenty minutes in wet shoes. She had eighteen dollars in her wallet and no idea whether Vanessa would hold her final paycheck.
Marcus approached again.
“Mr. Vale asked me to take you home.”
“I can get home.”
“He also asked me to collect your things from the restaurant.”
“No.”
Marcus paused. “No to which part?”
“Both.”
“You don’t want your things?”
“I don’t want a stranger going into the staff locker room and giving Vanessa another reason to say I caused a scene.”
“I’m not particularly good at causing small scenes.”
“That’s what worries me.”
A corner of his mouth lifted.
“Then I’ll drive you there,” he said. “You collect them.”
The restaurant was still open when they returned.
It had never looked more beautiful to Elena. That annoyed her.
The chandeliers cast warm light across the marble. Burgundy curtains framed the windows. Fresh napkins had replaced the linen taken for Atlas. Guests remained at several tables, speaking in lowered voices. The orchestra of plates and glasses had resumed, but the rhythm was wrong. Everyone was listening for the next interruption.
Marcus entered first. His presence moved through the room ahead of him.
Vanessa stood near the host station with the dining manager, Peter. She had changed shoes. Elena noticed that immediately. The nude heels were gone, replaced by black flats that made her appear smaller.
“You are not permitted in staff areas,” Vanessa told Marcus.
“He isn’t going back there,” Elena said. “I am.”
“You abandoned your shift.”
“You told me not to return.”
“I told you there would be consequences if you left during service.”
“You said, ‘Don’t bother coming back.’”
Peter looked toward the floor.
Vanessa looked at him. “Did you hear me say that?”
His throat moved.
Elena waited.
“No,” Peter said.
The lie was almost gentle.
Vanessa turned back to Elena. “You brought an animal into a licensed dining room. You created a health hazard, disrupted service, and ignored a direct instruction.”
“I carried in a dog who was collapsing.”
“You carried in a dog belonging to one of the most photographed men in the country.”
“I didn’t know who he belonged to.”
“That is not helping your case.”
Marcus’s phone vibrated. He read the screen without reacting, then held it toward Elena.
A video filled the display.
Vanessa’s heel struck the marble. Elena curled over Atlas. The sound was louder through the phone speaker than Elena remembered.
The clip had already been posted by a diner. The caption read: BILLIONAIRE ARRIVES AFTER RESTAURANT OWNER KICKS AT HIS DYING DOG.
The view count climbed as they watched.
Vanessa’s face changed.
“Who posted that?”
Marcus lowered the phone. “Someone you served dinner.”
“Take it down.”
“I don’t control the internet.”
“Damian does.”
Marcus’s expression remained polite. “Not all of it.”
Peter took out his own phone. Notifications were appearing faster than he could clear them.
Vanessa turned to Elena. “You planned this.”
Elena stared at her.
“You brought that dog inside,” Vanessa said. “You knew Mr. Vale was arriving. You created a spectacle, and now—”
“Stop.”
The word came from Peter.
Everyone looked at him.
He had gone pale.
“Just stop talking,” he said.
Vanessa’s eyes sharpened. “Excuse me?”
“There are cameras everywhere. People are still recording. Stop.”
She looked around.
Three phones were visible. There were probably more.
Vanessa straightened the front of her dress. Her hands were steady now, which Elena found more frightening than when they had trembled.
“You may collect your personal belongings,” she said. “Peter will accompany you. You are suspended pending review.”
“You fired me.”
“I did not.”
“You threatened me in front of half the room.”
“You misunderstood.”
Elena glanced at Peter.
He could not meet her eyes.
She walked past them.
The staff corridor smelled of bleach, onions, and hot metal. In the locker room, someone had placed her phone on top of her folded coat. Her black apron lay beside it. The pocket felt too light.
She checked.
Her cash tips were gone.
“Where’s the envelope?” she asked.
Peter stood in the doorway. “What envelope?”
“My tips. I had one hundred eighty-six dollars.”
“Tips are supposed to be deposited in the lockbox.”
“I hadn’t counted out the pool yet.”
“Then maybe someone did it for you.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
She searched the locker, though there was nowhere for an envelope to hide. Peter watched without helping.
“You heard her,” Elena said.
He closed his eyes.
“Peter.”
“I have three kids.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“I have three kids, a mortgage, and a mother in assisted living.”
“I didn’t ask what you had.”
“You think I don’t know what she said? You think I didn’t see what happened?”
“You said you didn’t.”
His face tightened. “Because she asked me in front of everyone.”
“That usually makes lying harder.”
“Not when she signs your checks.”
Elena put on her coat.
Peter looked older in the fluorescent light. He had a frayed thread at the edge of his shirt cuff, and he kept worrying it with his thumb.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No, you’re scared.”
“Both can be true.”
She picked up her phone.
A text from an unknown number waited on the screen.
DO NOT SIGN ANYTHING TONIGHT. CALL ME.
The number belonged to a woman named Rachel Kim, according to the signature beneath it. Employment attorney.
Another message came from Luis, a busser who usually communicated in reaction icons and photos of badly plated staff meals.
YOU OKAY? VIDEO IS EVERYWHERE.
Then another.
V SAYS ANYONE TALKS GETS FIRED.
Peter saw the preview before Elena turned the screen over.
“She shouldn’t have sent that,” he said.
“She didn’t. Luis did.”
“I mean Vanessa.”
May you like
Elena put the phone in her pocket.
Peter blocked the doorway for half a second, not deliberately, just because he had not decided where to stand.
