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Mac is the treasurer for the club and handles all the money. If you ask me, they could’ve found a hundred other people better suited for the job than that dumbass, but nobody asked me. Macisgood with the money, even if he’s stupid about every single thing else.
“‘Sup, Skids?” Mac answers after four rings, making my nostrils flare in frustration. I’m sure he’s busy. People that take part in the world always are, but that doesn’t make it less fucking annoying that they always take forever to answer their phones.
“Mac, I need eight grand for BIBO.” We have to pay a little extra to sort of strongarm everyone into preparing their shit for us in a very short timeframe.
“What the fuck? Why?”
“Because BIBO needs a new POS system. I’ve already talked to Pres. I just wanted to make sure that the charges aren’t going to get bounced back for insufficient funds.” I have the ability to use the accounts for purchases, but Mac and Pres are the only ones in the club that know how much money is in them, and any money that gets taken from them needs to be approved by both Pres and Mac, otherwise we have to call a vote.
“BIBO takes care of itself financially, so don’t worry about it. Send me the receipts.” Macis, as much as I hate to admit it, very good as Treasurer. He has an accounting degree and knows how to turn a ton of the shit we buy for BIBO into tax refunds. It’s magic to me. I understand computers, but numbers like that don’t make sense to me.
“I’ll send them to you.”
After ordering the tablets to be delivered to BIBO tonight, warning the manager to expect their arrival, and dealing with the people who own the point of sale system, I’m exhausted and starving. Most of what I do doesn’t involve so many people- just the technology. I generally prefer it that way, and Pres would normally do most of the phone calls, but he’s on vacation so I want him to relax as much as possible.
I decide to check in on Emily, Pres’s daughter, before shutting my computer down. Pres asked me to keep an eye on what she does with her phone to make sure she’s not trying to talk to Reaper, but I’ve been monitoring both of their phones and I don’t think Reaper is interested in her. Even if Emilydidtry to talk to him, I’m pretty sure he would ignore her entirely.
But Pres is the dad of a teenage daughter and his brain doesn’t work like most people’s. He’s not able to see past his fear of her following in her parents’ footsteps and getting pregnant far too early.
Emily hasn’t tried to reach out to Reaper. Reaper hasn’t said a word about Emily. Nothing is going wrong there. Zed’s ol’ lady Jewel is still safe- nothing about her has popped up in almost a full year. Tree hasn’t been contacting any dealers for coke. Everyone’s going to be fine.
So I leave my wall of monitors and check inside my freezer for something I can heat up for dinner. I do actually leave to do my own grocery shopping, so I try to keep everything as simple as possible. It’s easy to go in and pick up a cart full of freezer meals that don’t require much energy, time, or thought.
My freezer is full of pot pies and pizzas this week, but I am starting to get tired of pot pies. Maybe the monotony is… boring. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if something a little different happened, if I changed up my routine a little.
Tomorrow, after I’m done with the tablets and the software at BIBO, I’ll stop in town and pick up something else. Maybe some fresh produce or something I have to use a recipe and pots and pans to make. Just a small change to break up the routine.
Chapter Three
Phoebe
Rhett is back. I didn’t expect him to come straight to BIBO from the beach. He’s more tan than normal and he’s even carrying a beachy scent, like saltwater and sunlight. He’s been running around like crazy all day, collecting all the old tablets and promising us we’ll have new ones by the end of the day today.
We’re busier today, thankfully, and I actually feel like I have something to do rather than just standing around counting the minutes until my next break. There’s a nice hum going from the sounds of customer conversations and the regular noise coming from the kitchen.
The servers are a little more flustered without having tablets to look at menus, but at least we have hope for the future that things will return to normal once the new system is installed. With everything being crazy, I haven’t had a chance to take a break yet, but I really need a minute off the floor to just relax.
That troubling feeling of being watched is weighing heavy on me again today, and I need a minute to breathe. I greet another couple and flip my light on before taking them to their table, so that once I’m done I can take my break. I have to seek out Nell since we don’t have a way to message each other until the new tablets are ready.
“You have table fifteen. I’m going to take a break now. Can you watch the front for me?” I immediately regret asking. I don’t want to make it seem like a request. Iamtaking this break, and she’s going to have to watch for customers coming through the door whether she wants to or not.
Luckily, Nell is one of the sweetest people on the planet and just smiles and nods at me. “Of course.”
I leave the dining room and go to the break room, dropping into a seat and hanging my head down into my hands as I breathe deeply and try to rationalize that the fear doesn’t mean anything. But the longer I sit here, the stronger the feeling gets and I’m not able to convince myself that it’s unwarranted.
Lifting my head up, my horror doubles as a white piece of paper laying on top of my bag in my locker catches my attention. It’s folded like a letter, and I stand up to get close enough to inspect it. There’s nothing I can see without picking it up and opening it.
Don’t scream. You’re next.
The air thins.He was here. My heart rate rockets up and my throat swells.He found me. No, I know that can’t be true. He’s still in prison. He can’t be here. They would’ve told me if he was getting out. I’ve been so good about updating my address with the victim’s advocacy group that promised to keep me informed of anything that happens with his case.
It’s not possible that he was here, but the note is from him, so how the fuck does that work?
“Phoebe, are you okay?” Rhett asks, stepping into the room. He sounds concerned and I don’t want him to be.
“I’m… I just… got this note from this guy. It’s nothing.” I stuff it under my bag and peer out into the hallway, looking around to see if he’s there. Tony can’t fucking be here, but I don’t want Rhett worried about me. He’s got so much going on today and he doesn’t need me to add to it.
“What happened?”
