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“Thank you for your work, Braxton,” he offered, handing me a folded check.
“My pleasure, Sir.” I stood when he did, waiting for him to leave so I could finish the schedules, close the café, and finally head home. I was dog-tired.
“Do you like working here?” he asked a moment before he opened the door.
My brows gathered in a frown. “Of course I do, Mr. Di Rossi. You gave me a chance when others wouldn’t, and I truly appreciate that. I love this place.”
A slow smile stretched his lips until it fully captured his round face, and he nodded. “It shows.” Facing fully, he regarded me. “Let me give you some advice, Braxton. Never lie for anyone, especially not someone who should be more responsible than you. No job is worth your integrity.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I replied, knowing well he was talking about Lucas.
“Any time. And keep up the good work, I got my eye on you.” Winking, he nodded to the desk. “Looks squeaky clean, just the way I like it.”
“Thanks, I—” My eyes widened just as he walked out the door. Those were the exact words I had used this morning.
“… I got my eye on you.”
Holy hell. Was he really watching? My head snapped to the ceiling and I frantically began to search for a security camera, but there was none to be found. The only thing I could see was the smoke detector, unless… Grabbing a chair, I stood on it, and began to check the damn thing to discover a tiny lens sat on the bottom with a blinking light.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. That meant my boss had seen me spray cleaner all over his nephew’s face this morning and hadn’t really cared. It also meant he’d seen all of Lucas’ negligence, and everything I ended up taking care of because he didn’t care to do it.
Chuckling, I got down and finished the schedules, feeling like I’d just won that round by knockout.
When I got home two hours later, I found Little Suzie playing with her doll in the hallway. The house was dark, and Old Man Müller wasn’t in his chair. “Hey, baby girl,” I called, bending down to pick her up, noticing the pout on her lips. “What’s wrong? Mom didn’t buy you chocolate milk?”
Suzie shook her head, her hand landing on my face. “We didn’t go food shopping.”
Concern coursed through my chest; that wasn’t normal. Mrs. Reyes did grocery shopping for the whole house at the end of every month. She bought in bulk because it was easier that way with her work schedule.
“Why didn’t you buy food?”
“I dunno.” With a small shrug, she hugged me, resting her cheek on my shoulder.
Rubbing her back, I went upstairs with her in my arms, and knocked on her mother’s door. No answer came. Walking a bit further, I knocked on Mr. Müller’s room instead.
“Hey, Brax,” he greeted with a grim expression.
“What happened?”
His hand reached to caress Suzie’s head, and he sighed. “Rosa got laid off from the restaurant, and they only paid her half her check. The owner is closing it down.”
Damn it. My gut tightened with dread, and my arms instinctively held Suzie tighter. “What now?”
“We don’t know,” Patricia answered, walking out of her room when she heard our whispering. She and her husband, Jose, had arrived last year from Brazil and worked nights at the hospital, so they usually slept during the day. We usually only got to see them before they left for work.
“Rosa has been in there, crying, since she came home,” Jose added, reaching our side.
My chest constricted; Mrs. Reyes had been working at that restaurant for years. It was the one stable thing she had after her husband left. The check was burning a hole in my pocket, but even if I wanted, I couldn’t touch that money.
“I could go buy some food, but I only have like a hundred dollars left in my bank account, and my paycheck, which I can’t—”
“We know,” Patricia added, squeezing my shoulder caringly. “Don’t worry about that. If you can give a hundred, Jose and I could offer a hundred more, but groceries are usually like three hundred for the month.”
Our gazes all turned to Old Man Müller, who frowned.
“Don’t look at me,” he grumbled when our eyes became chiding. Mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, he pulled out his wallet, handing me a hundred-dollar bill.
“Well done,” Patricia offered, patting his cheek like a child.
