Status.
I found Nella.
She stood at the service well with a shaker in one hand, a towel over her shoulder, and three customers trying to get her attention at once. She saw my phone, saw my face, and pointed toward the tiny office with two fingers.
Then she tapped her own chest.
I waited.
She handed Shay the shaker. “Finish that, strain over fresh ice, orange wheel on top. If anyone asks for a blender, tell them the blender is emotionally unavailable.”
Shay took it. “The blender and I share that state.”
Nella slipped under the service gate and crossed to me. “Office.”
“You’re in the middle of the rush.”
“I said office.”
We went.
This time, I didn’t need to be told to put the phone on speaker.
I called Uncle Sal with Nella standing beside the desk, sauce on her apron, scarf still tied at her ponytail, and one foot angled toward the door like the room had thirty seconds to impress her.
He answered on the first ring. “Tell me she failed.”
Nella leaned toward the phone. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Uncle Sal exhaled slowly. “Ms. DeLuca.”
“Still busy. Still Nella.”
I focused on the phone. “The promo is working. Patio is full. Counter is turning. Food sales are strong.”
“How strong?”
“I’ll send verified numbers after close.”
“You said that this morning.”
“It’s still true tonight.”
“You’re getting sentimental about receipts.”
“I’m getting accurate about numbers.”
Nella almost smiled.
Uncle Sal didn’t miss the edge in my voice. “Nico, you have a job.”
“I’m doing it.”
“No. You’re moving boxes and playing security at a beach bar.”
“I’m observing the business.”
“You’re protecting the debtor.”
