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At least I’m not alone anymore.
Carlos has come back to work, too. He wasn’t going to show up, but when he found out I had to at least grab my clothes and purse, he told me he’d be there for me.
At least I have a friend... thank god for that.
True to her nature, Mrs. Cheng has already thrown up a replacement window of saran wrap and taped a makeshift sign to the front door that read: YES, WE’RE STILL OPEN. Also true to her nature, she had been working the place all on her own since 10am. She may be a demanding boss, but at least I know she can walk the walk.
I admire her in a way, she’s got the work ethic of an angry bull, but she also doesn’t have a boss to tell her what to do. I’ve always been most effective when left to my own devices—that’s why I did so poorly in high school, when every adult was trying to control me, yet so well in my first year at nursing school. Post-secondary professors don’t try to control you; they already have your money, so it’s up to you to work your ass off and make the most of the price. That’s exactly what I did, until the price tag became more than I could afford.
I’m doing my best to build my way back up to that dream, but no one’s going to give me another loan until I can pay off my last one, and as long as I want a roof over my head, I’m going to have to pay the monthly bills first. It’s a vicious cycle.
Maybe Mrs. Cheng will give me a raise, because of the hardships I’ve endured? I nearly choke on my laughter. Yeah, right.
I’m actually surprised at the scene at Chelly’s when I finally show up. Mrs. Cheng has cleaned up all of the glass shards from the ground, and if it wasn’t for the saran-wrap window, a stranger might not be able to guess what had happened here last night at all. There’s no police tape or investors nosing around. It’s almost eerie.
Still, before I can step in through the front door, I spot a Rorschach stain of dried blood along the sidewalk. Guess they can’t erase what happened here that easily, huh?
“Where the hell are the cops!?” Carlos throws his hands up in the air, as he takes his first break a few hours into my shift. It’s starting to get dark already, and the nightly wind is picking up again. I turn the heat up and watch the saran-wrap window struggle against the growing breeze. Usually I wouldn’t dare mess with the thermometer, but Mrs. Cheng can kiss my ass if she’s going to complain. I can hardly believe I’m even back here at work so soon after what happened. I must be crazy... or just flat broke.
“How isn’t there an investigation going on right now!?” Carlos continues to rave as I watch people scurry home outside. “I was asked like two questions last night before they saw me off. They didn’t even bother putting police tape up!”
Most people don’t live in this area. Our street is filled almost entirely with small businesses that close long before Chelly’s does. Carlos and I may have been the only civilians caught in the crossfire last night.
I cross my fingers and hope that no one else comes in for the rest of my shift. Some things never change.
To Mrs. Cheng’s credit, she’s offered Carlos and I time-and-a-half pay to keep working so soon after the incident. I couldn’t say no. As long as she’s offering more money, I’m going to keep working—I know she can’t afford to shut this place down for too long, anyway. I might actually have some leverage over someone for once in my life...
Hey, maybe this whole shootout business wasn’t so bad after all.
“Niaaa...” Carlos snaps his fingers in front of my eyes. I shake my head and draw a tight smile on my lips.
“Sorry,” I say. “Just thinking...”
“No, I’m sorry,” Carlos’s arm finds its way over my shoulder. “When I was in the back last night, and I heard those loud-ass gunshots, my first reaction was to hide. It took me way too long to come find you.”
I don’t blame him. You’d have to be a fool to run towards something so scary. “I’ll forgive you for some steak and eggs,” I joke, trying to will some spirit back into my frayed body.
Carlos doesn’t hesitate. “You got it, girl. Mrs. Cheng can eat dirt if she complains about me ‘wasting’ a steak right now. You deserve whatever you want.”
I can’t even remember the last time I had a steak. Usually, people who order steaks around here don’t leave any leftovers. It’s only the less desirable food that gets left on customers plates for me to scavenge.
So far today, we’ve had just as many customers as we usually do during an average day at Chelly’s. I suddenly wonder if Mrs. Cheng has somehow paid off the police to keep this shooting out of the news so that it won’t affect business. I smile at the ridiculousness of the thought... but Carlos does have a point. Why doesn’t there seem to be any investigation going on? Why isn’t news of what happened being reported anywhere?
I start to get suspicious. Carlos goes back to the kitchen to cook up my meal for the day and I lean on the counter and look out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, the image of the bloody stranger from last night pops into my mind. I instinctively bite my lip. Who are you...?
I remember the light of the police siren that had been here during the shootout, but then left before a response team could show up. Were we dealing with some crooked cops here?
A tendril of fear wraps around my heart in response to that thought. I was interviewed by a cop. He got my full name. If anyone’s looking to squash out the witnesses from last night, they won’t have to look far—and now I’m back at the scene of the crime too! Fuck.
A chill runs up my spine. I look back through the kitchen window for Carlos. He’s there, concentrated on making me a meal. God bless that man. A flame skips off the grill and I realize I’m still cold as fuck. The wind is starting to really rattle the saran-wrap storefront window and I’m not sure how much longer it’s going to hold. I check my phone. Mrs. Cheng has given us permission to close up early tonight, if we want, but I’m still not sure if I will. I’m getting paid by the hour, and if I have to sit here in a cold diner with no customers just to help get my life back on track, then that’s what I’m going to do.
I must be crazy.
I go to the backroom and grab my coat. I stuff my cell phone into my pocket, and then immediately pat on it to make sure it’s still there. It’s funny how a single moment can change even the little things so drastically. I’ve been treating my phone like a pariah for the past year, keeping it at a distance, less a debtor, or
worse, calls, but now I’m not letting it leave my side. I don’t want to get caught flat-footed again. I’m nearly of the mind to practice dialing 911 in my free time.
I wrap myself up nice and tight in my big, red puffy off-brand quilted jacket and watch twilight take over the street outside. The wind is stronger now than it was an hour earlier, but nowhere near as bad as it usually is. I give thanks to that fact, even if it could change for the worse in an instant, because there’s no way I’m staying here—time-and-a-half pay or not—if the saran-wrap window collapses.
