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“Yes, but we already got the other cameras a week ago and they’ve been working fine,” I smile a little, but again I try to defend the man. “This seems like overkill for a stalker.”
"Then you might be underestimating him,” he responds, looking annoyed at my statement. “And that will be a mistake. Listen, it’s either you let me do this, or you move in with me. Those are your options.”
I shake my head. Moving in with him isn’t an option. I can’t be in close proximity to him for such long periods, especially feeling the way that I feel about him. It’s already bad enough that I’ve been spending time with him for the few dinners and breakfasts that I can’t avoid.
“It’s not that I’m not grateful,” I say. “But it’s just that, I don’t have any way to pay you back for this.” I’ve already been looking forward to getting my first paycheck and starting to slowly pay him for the accommodations and the car. This is just adding extra to the bill.
He shrugs. “You don’t have to. At the end of the day, this benefits the property anyway.”
“Right,” I say. “But still.”
“Don’t worry about it. Oh, and I got dinner already so you should go get some rest tonight. Jonah tells me you have a long day tomorrow so you got to get a lot of sleep. The early bird gets the cuckoo's nest and all that.”
I snort at the unexpectedly butchered phrase. “What?”
“Something my grandpa used to say.” He waves it off. “It means, you should go to bed and get up early. “
Yes, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it goes. I don’t correct him, covering up my smile instead.
It's true though that the next day is long. There’s some kind of convention in town, and it’s all hands on deck. Jonah also chose this week to add an experimental new cherry pie to the menu and I’m in charge of making it. The problem is that they're flying off the shelves faster than I can cook them. It's so bad that the chef, Luis, actually speaks to me today to tell me to move faster, and then proceeds to help me. That’s how busy we are.
The grind is nonstop all day, and I don’t even take a break in the middle of the afternoon. In fact, it isn’t until April comes over and tells me that someone wants to see me, that I even look up from my food.
Now?” I ask April. “Look, I don’t have time.”
“She says it's urgent,” April insists. "She's one of our regulars. Look, it will only take a second."
I sigh and pull off my apron and gloves, taking off my hat as I step out. But the minute I get to the bar and see her, I freeze.
Because this isn’t just any customer who wants to talk to me.
This is a woman who is glaring at me.
“Jane.” The sound that leaves me is a combination of astonishment and anxiety.
“Hi,” she says with a large fake smile. “It’s you.”
She says the word ‘you’ like it’s the most spiteful thing that she can think about.
“Um…” I glance at April who is looking at the whole exchange with the utmost interest. “Did you need something from me?”
“Yes. If you would stay away from my boyfriend, it would be nice.”
She says it loud enough to get the attention of everyone at the bar. They all pause whatever they’re doing and stare at us.
I cringe, feeling embarrassment wash over me.
“Jane you’re getting it wrong.” My words are frantic, stammering. “I’m not doing anything with—“
“Save it!" She holds her hand up. “I just came to tell you that he’s not going to leave me for you, so you can try it fucking elsewhere. You're not his type.”
And with that, she flips her hair and walks off. All eyes at the bar turn to me and the gazes are so invasive and judgmental that I want the floor to open up and swallow me.
I feel a hand tug at my elbow and turn to find April looking at me. She appears amused.
“Come on,” she says, tugging me back toward the kitchen.
“I don’t—“ I try to explain and she shakes her head.
