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“No, I’m not sick, and yes I’ve been sleeping.”
I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t have time for you evading my questions, Indie. What the hell is going on?”
Her eyes look to the floor. She’s hesitant and becoming increasingly nervous. Why won’t she just tell me?
“Indie,” I call her attention to me firmly. “Look at me.”
Slowly, she lifts her head, her sad eyes meet mine.
“I’ll ask you one more time. What is wrong with you?”
Letting out a long breath, she finally begins to speak. “I’m tired. I’ve been working every night after the office at my other job and on weekends.”
I take a moment to let that sink in. “What’s this other job you do?” I brace myself, half expecting her to tell me she is a stripper or escort because she had such a hard time telling me, but I quickly retract that thought because that is not Indie. Indie is a good girl. Besides that, I know from my investigator’s report, she’d worked in a diner previously to here. So, I hope for both our sakes that’s it.
“I waitress at a diner.”
Relief floods my veins, and I let out the breath I’d been holding. I take another minute before responding. It makes sense. Indie has a lot of financial responsibility resting on her. I knew she was a hard worker, but if she continues this regime, she will run herself into the ground. I feel like a hypocrite because I too work long hours, but at least I am behind a desk most of that time. I’m not running around taking food orders and clearing tables after a full day at the office.
“You need to resign from the diner immediately.” It’s not a request. It’s a clear and precise order; one I expect her compliance on without argument.
Indie shakes her head. “I can’t do that. How do you expect me to pay rent and bills?”
“With the pay you receive from me.” I frown at her. “I don’t garnish your entire wage, Indie. I’m not that big of a monster. I have ensured you’d have plenty left over to cover your expenses. Employees are paid bi-weekly. You should have money in your account by this evening. All this was in the employment pack you were given.”
“Yes, but I’m not a normal employee. I’m working to pay off the money I owe you. I didn’t expect to receive any pay on top of that. It’ll take me forever to pay you back otherwise.”
I look at her through furrowed brows. Getting angry with her at this point may possibly break her. I can see she is on the edge of either collapsing in a heap or losing her absolute shit. I take a deep breath and compose myself.
“You will resign, today, Indie. End of discussion.”
“No.” She stands. Her eyes look fearful and angry at the same time. “Not the end of discussion! I can’t resign from the diner. Once I have paid you back, I’ll need the job to go back to.”
“Why, when I say end of discussion, do you see that as an opportunity to argue with me?”
“Because this is my life. You cannot tell me what to do.”
Now, I stand. “I think you're mistaken. I can, and I will tell you what to do. Not only am I your boss, but I’m also your loan shark. You owe me a debt, Indie, and until you pay me back every cent, you will do as you are told.”
Indie takes a step forward, straightening her back, eyes defiant and wild with fury. I can tell she wants to argue back, and judging by the way she is fisting her hands, it’s taking everything she has not to.
I lower my tone and speak softer. “Take the afternoon off, go home, and get some sleep. I’ll see you back here Monday morning, fresh and rested. Understood?”
She looks away. I’ve pissed her off, but she’s given in. “Yes, Sir.” The bitterness in her tone is unmissable. I let it slide. I've won this round, and we both know it.
I FUCKING KNEW IT! I knew she wouldn’t listen to me. I watch Indie clear a table through the window outside the diner she was supposed to resign from. It doesn’t make a difference whether she is in a thousand-dollar business dress or the jeans, t-shirt, and apron she is now in; she’s gorgeous. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun on top of her head. Light blonde wisps of hair stick out from the bottom, and it reminds me of the first night I met her.
I watch her smile and take a couple's order. She appears to be friendly with the couple and moves about with confidence I have never seen in her before. It’s nine o’clock at night, and the dinner rush must be over as there are only a few tables left occupied. I’m not certain whether Indie is simply defying my orders and just doesn’t care, or if she was naive enough to think I wouldn’t check on her. A quick look through the background check Charlie completed for me on Indie, told me exactly where to find her, and I’m madder than hell that she is here right now.
The bell on the door dings as I step into the diner. I can’t see Indie. She must be out back in the kitchen, so I take a seat at one of the booths with my back facing the counter. A couple of minutes pass by before I hear small footsteps approach from behind.
“Good even....” Indies voice trails off when she gets to the booth and sees who her next customer is. Her face drops, and so does the menu in her hand.
“Good evening, Miss Johnson.” I glare at her, letting her know exactly how unhappy I am.
She doesn’t speak back. She just stands there, looking at me like I just smacked her across the face.
“Care to explain?’’
