By noon, the bakery is too crowded for a place missing a front window and half its furniture. People come to support us, or to witness the aftermath, or to participate in Halo’s favorite civic activity of talking about trouble while pretending not to be afraid of it. I serve soup from the kitchen because the warmer survived. Darlene barks orders. Renn hammers panels into a sturdier brace over the front damage. Mrs. Pell wipes tables. Mr. Eddison sits by the door like a very old, very under-equipped guard.
Kauss still does not come.
At two, I check the alley.
Nothing.
At three, I check my compad even though he has never messaged me because I do not have his number and am apparently hoping loneliness develops technology.
Nothing.
At four, Darlene finds me standing by the rear door with my arms wrapped around myself.
“He’ll turn up,” she says.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
She leans against the wall beside me. The alley beyond the small window is wet and empty, the pavement dark under the lowering sky. “You worried he’s dead?”
My stomach lurches. “Don’t say that.”
“He’s seven feet of murder muscle. He’s not easy to kill.”
“That is the worst comfort I have ever received.”
“I specialize.”
“I’m worried he’ll do something he can’t come back from.”
Darlene exhales through her nose. “Honey, men like that come back from all kinds of things. Usually with worse posture and fewer jokes.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
The softness in her voice makes me look at her. She stares through the little window, face lined and tired beneath the harsh kitchen light.
“He promised me he wouldn’t kill them,” I say.
“Did he promise not to maim them?”
“No.”
“Well, there’s your answer.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.” She turns her head toward me. “Gang boys generally stop causing trouble once somebody larger and meaner arrives. That’s how the street thinks. Ron understands shame, dominance, fear, reputation. He does not understand you. He sure as hell does not understand Kauss.”
“Do I?”
Darlene studies me for a long moment. “More than Kauss probably wants.”
That lands quietly.
