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“I… I…” I stammer, unable to bring anything to the surface when he is examining me with an air of triumph. “I just want…” What the hell do I want? I want him, pure and simple, but I will not say it. I can’t admit he has bedazzled me to the point of despair at not being able to be with him. But I hate him for it. I hate that he has rendered me confused and weak. Since high school, I’ve taken control of my life and stopped being pushed around, but now it’s as if all I’ve worked for is slipping through my fingers.
“I hate you.” I want to spit this at him, for him to see the white of my teeth as I throw this insult in his face, but in reality, it comes out as a strained whisper, lifeless and tepid, aimed directly at his feet. Gianni smiles. The fact seems to please him.
“The feeling is more than mutual. Now get back to work.” He turns and continues walking to his car, the lump in my throat refusing to budge as I try to swallow it.
I’m motionless, watching him walk across the parking lot, the wind howling through the nearby trees. He pulls at the collar of his coat with one hand, and his other holds his briefcase. I feel Faith’s stare, but I don’t care. For some reason, I feel like he’s left me, taking my splinter with him, a small part of me he prised from within. I can’t do this. How can you hate someone yet need them so badly? The two conflicting feelings fight against each other, battering me internally as they fight for survival, tearing at my insides as they compete.
But which will triumph? For surely, both can’t live within me. That much is clear.
Faith is right. Gianni has gotten under my skin and into my soul, and I don’t think he’ll ever leave.
ChapterSixteen
My feet are heavy with trepidation as I arrive for the late shift. I am afraid Gianni will be here, but I’m also afraid he won’t be. I haven’t slept. I couldn’t rid myself of what had taken place yesterday. I’m battered by his motives and the pleasure he appears to be getting out of it, all of which have left me feeling open to a hurricane threatening to uproot me.
I walk through the door, tired and lonely. Casey is standing behind the counter, not doing much of anything as Faith emerges from the office, coat and bag in hand. She did not bring up the subject of Gianni again after he’d left yesterday, but part of me wished she had. I want to talk to someone about him, but how do I explain what’s going on when I don’t understand it myself?
I don’t want to face him. I can’t breathe when he’s near me, yet I can’t bear the thought of never feeling his touch again. Why can’t I stop picturing his face? How he’d looked at my paintings. How he’d stood behind me in the stockroom and when his hand caressed my face outside my bathroom. All these memories are snowballing into something I know is more, so much more than a silly fascination.
“Hi and goodbye.” Faith smiles as she passes me, Casey glancing toward the door. I hear the click and assume it is Faith leaving, but Casey’s words catch me off guard, my sleep-deprived brain not functioning.
“It’s okay. Gianni isn’t here.”
Fear rises in my stomach. What the hell does she mean by that? How does she know I was thinking about Gianni? Has Faith been gossiping? Have they all been talking about me, laughing at me behind my back, spreading rumors about the boss and me? A burning shame wells, one I’ve experienced before and know exactly how much it burns.
My mouth is open, gaping with no words but an avalanche of questions when a gruff voice sounds from behind me.
“Thank the lord, there is a God!” Lewis scoots past me as he salutes Casey, who I now notice isn’t looking at me. She’d been speaking to Lewis, who had entered through the door as Faith had left. I heave a sigh as I follow Lewis into the back.
I stuff my things in my locker, giving myself a little talking to. I’m being paranoid. I am creating drama where there is none. What’s wrong with me? Is Cora to blame or Gianni? Whatever it is, I must get a grip. I have to sort my head out before I make a complete fool of myself.
I step onto the shop floor, my mind still racing. I glance up at the customer on the other side of the counter. He’s wearing thick glasses and sports a bushy beard that makes him appear as though he’s missing a guitar. He stands with a tray of drinks—an order to take-out—and I wonder what problems he has running through his mind, or are some people blessed with simple lives?
“That’ll be ten seventy-five, please.” Casey’s voice is squeaky and dull. The guy pulls out a wad of cash, probably rounded up by his co-workers for their order. Balancing the carry-out tray in one hand, he picks up the fifth cup in his other. I dash over to the door, grabbing it for him as he struggles out of the shop, nodding his thanks as he passes me.
I let the door close and walk back around the counter. I pick up a cloth, trying desperately to keep my mind off Gianni for one second. I challenge myself to keep him at bay for as long as I can, like when Frank and I used to play our silent challenge at the dinner table. We competed to see who could be quiet the longest, a game cleverly introduced by our father to gain some peace while we waited for our food.
I tidy some bits of paper and menus by the cash register. As I slot my hand down the side of the machine, I hold the screen with my other hand, and my finger brushes over the touch screen. As the screen lights up, I realize I must have hit the recent transactions button. A list of payments appears before me. My train of thought is momentarily broken by Casey announcing she has finished for the day. My eyes squint at the list, and all I see is the amount staring at me from the last transaction as if it is trying to call to me from beyond its protective shield. I replay the scene I witnessed, Casey asking the bearded guy for his payment—ten seventy-five. Her words rewind in my brain, and I replay them again as I stare at the total amount on the screen for the bearded guy’s drinks. Two pounds and twenty-five pence. They don’t match. Why don’t they match?
And like a burglar alarm, the ringing in my head is deafening. Gianni is right. He has been all along. It is theft, stealing from the cash register, but how it is done is so simple. Five drinks were purchased, and five drinks were paid for, but only one drink was rung through the till. This must be the reason for the issue with the stock. We’re using far more stock than is going through in orders. Gianni thought this was someone possibly stealing the stock, but that isn’t the case. The guy has just paid cash, so where has the rest of the money gone? I know exactly where it is.
I stare at the office door, Casey behind it, getting her things together to go home. Is she busy stuffing the stolen money into her bag? How long has she been pulling this trick, and how much has she stolen? I think about what Faith said on our very first day. Casey didn’t appear to have much money and may be struggling to pay herself through university.
I scan the screen again to make sure I’m not imagining things, but it is there, sitting patiently, waiting for someone to notice it. My first reaction is that I need to tell Gianni. I’ve completed my mission, one I’d forgotten all about. I will take great joy in relishing that I’ve been smart enough to solve his little puzzle. But as I watch Casey leave, pulling her small bag onto her shoulder and wrapping her coat around her body, I can’t help but notice the hole in the back of her tights and the worn leather of her shoes. I don’t think she’s stealing because she can. What if she’s stealing because she has to? It doesn’t justify it, but the thought of throwing her to Gianni fills me with sadness. There’s no doubt that she will lose her job, and as much as I find her difficult and sullen, I don’t wish poverty on anyone. I firmly believe that people need a chance to rectify their mistakes, learning from them where they can. I, of all people, know this first-hand. Besides, Gianni has pissed me off to the point where I’ll take greater pleasure in not giving him what he wants.
I smile to myself. The thought of having one over on him makes up for the little game he’s trying to play. I’ll show him exactly how to play.
ChapterSeventeen
Lewis and I remain on the late shift. Other than the normal evening commuters wanting a coffee for their train journey home, the shop has been quiet. This has let my mind wander, forming a plot for how I can use my newfound knowledge against Gianni. I consider talking to Faith about what I know but quickly decide against it. I need to keep this to myself until I’ve had time to think about how to approach it.
My first thought is to confront Casey, but I’m not sure how she’ll react. We’re not friends, not even close. What will she say? Will she try to deny it or admit what she’s done? And what shall I say to her, ‘Stop stealing, or I’ll tell the boss!’It sounds pathetic in my head. Will she feel threatened if I confront her? Will she try to lay the blame on me, setting me up to take the rap for her dishonesty? I need time to think about how I’ll tackle Casey.
I stare out the window, watching the sky as it darkens and the streetlights flood the parking lot. I wonder if Gianni will show up, maybe come to check the takings for the day and oversee the cashing up. I glance at the clock. It is ten minutes before we close.
“Hey, you might as well go. I’m nearly done here,” Lewis calls as he begins to ring up the cash registers. I stand by the back door, watching him while I consider this. We aren’t supposed to leave each other alone at the end of a shift. It is a two-man job for safety reasons.
“It’s okay. I’m in no rush.”
