“She’s running a full house,” I said.
“Good. Then she can pay. Make sure she remembers who gets paid first.”
“She remembers.”
“You sound impressed.”
“I sound informed.”
“You sound slow.”
I turned toward the ocean so the bar wouldn’t hear the breath I let out.
“You gave me five days,” I said.
“I gave her five days. I didn’t give you permission to wrap yourself around them.”
“I’ll report in the morning.”
“You’ll report before sunrise.”
“Fine.”
“And Nico?”
“What?”
“Stay hungry.”
He hung up.
I held the phone a moment longer, fingers tight around the case.
Stay hungry.
Sal had said that my whole life, usually before asking me to do something that left a bad taste. I slid the phone into my pocket and turned back toward the bar before his voice could settle deeper.
Inside Bite Me, Nella slammed both palms on the bar.
“Nobody orders twelve blended drinks and tells me they’re in a hurry,” she said. “That’s not how ice or God works.”
Three women at the counter cheered.
I went back in.
The rush didn’t slow. It changed shape. Families with sandy kids gave way to couples with sunburns and vacation money. Beach music slid louder. Glasses sweated on the bar. The air carried jalapeño, sugar, hot dough, garlic, perfume, and Nella every time she moved close enough for the shark in me to notice.
The card reader froze.
The customer pointed at the screen. “It says approved.”
“It says nothing because it has chosen death,” Nella said. “Taryn, backup tablet.”
Taryn already had it in her hand. “I’m on it.”
A delivery driver dropped two crates by the wrong entrance.
Mari leaned through the kitchen pass. “Ay, carajo. Those are for the side door, not the walkway.”
