you’re an angel in rags and his family walks on hooves. Those men wouldn’t be out there if you weren’t in here,” Andre asserted cruelly. “Maybe it’s a slow news week. Maybe Max’s family has an ax to grind. Maybe the congressman hired goons to eliminate a witness to his carelessness. Whatever the excuse, you instigated it. I want them gone, and I want them gone now. They won’t leave if they think they can get at you.”
Despite the embroidered vest, Andre didn’t look so much like an easygoing Jim Garner anymore. He looked prepared to bite my head off.
Was he insinuating the local mob was interested in me? I’d sooner fight demons than AK-47s. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, fought my anxiety, and glared at him. “Fine, then I’ll go out there, shake hands, say my how-d’ya-dos, and they’ll all go away. Is that what you want?”
“Not until we know what you are!” he shouted, grabbing my shoulders and nearly shaking me until I shrugged him off. He cooled off quickly, frowned, and strode toward the bar to pour himself a tonic.
What I was?
This was taking a few weirdnesses too far. As far as I knew, no one knew about Max in my mirror or that I’d damned him to hell—figuratively I hoped, because I thought my curse and the fireball had to be a coincidence. He was speeding. He went boom. Gas ignites. Not too far out there. Not my fault, right?
Except now Max was talking in my head. Maybe I should start plugging in music and not listen to me.
Ernesto sauntered in from the back, apparently avoiding the spectators in his front parking lot by trespassing on the officially marked EPA ground zero behind the restaurant. An entire encampment of the homeless had moved into the no-man’s-land along the burned-out harbor strip, and the original chain link blocking it off had been appropriated for other uses over the years, mostly as shells for makeshift shelters. Everyone used the contaminated alley these days.
Ernesto cast me an evil eye but, seeing Andre, bit his unholy tongue. Assessing Andre’s scowl, he diverted his path, entered his office, and shut the door. The man was smarter than I’d thought.
People, instead of walls, were giving me claustrophobia. My stress level was such that I almost understood Sarah’s need to turn into a chimp to escape.
I returned to my cash counting, wondering what I was, too. “I assume you will explain that comment over dinner?” I asked icily.
Even Sarah was looking at me warily now. Had I an ounce of backbone, I’d have slapped the back ofAndre’s head to knock some sense into it, but, as I’ve said, I wasn’t into active protest anymore.
“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up with the cash.” Andre sipped his drink in obvious disgruntlement. So much for the insouciant image he usually projected.
He’d kissed me, and now he thought he was protecting me.
“I have no reason to hide,” I taunted him.
He didn’t respond, just gathered up my tallied cash and began stuffing it into the deposit bag.
“I need a second job,” I told him. “I need some quick cash. Have you got anything?”
I kept counting, unwilling to register his disbelief or scorn. If I focused on my goals, I’d get past him eventually.
“Yeah, Ernesto always needs more help. Seems women don’t like working with him,” he said dryly. “Want me to put in a word for you?”
I tallied the last deposit, slapped it on top of the bag he was holding, and, without answering his taunt, marched over to Ernesto’s office—I couldn’t really call it our office, since I’d yet to use it. I didn’t hesitate at the door but limped in.
The scumbucket glanced up, glowered, and waited. I think one of his chrome desk ornaments skittered away and hid in a drawer.
Undaunted, I stated my case. “I need to earn some extra cash. Andre says you might have an opening. I don’t dance. I can waitress, hostess, tend bar, and handle cash. I have a résumé if you need one.”
“I need a kitchen
Despite the embroidered vest, Andre didn’t look so much like an easygoing Jim Garner anymore. He looked prepared to bite my head off.
Was he insinuating the local mob was interested in me? I’d sooner fight demons than AK-47s. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, fought my anxiety, and glared at him. “Fine, then I’ll go out there, shake hands, say my how-d’ya-dos, and they’ll all go away. Is that what you want?”
“Not until we know what you are!” he shouted, grabbing my shoulders and nearly shaking me until I shrugged him off. He cooled off quickly, frowned, and strode toward the bar to pour himself a tonic.
What I was?
This was taking a few weirdnesses too far. As far as I knew, no one knew about Max in my mirror or that I’d damned him to hell—figuratively I hoped, because I thought my curse and the fireball had to be a coincidence. He was speeding. He went boom. Gas ignites. Not too far out there. Not my fault, right?
Except now Max was talking in my head. Maybe I should start plugging in music and not listen to me.
Ernesto sauntered in from the back, apparently avoiding the spectators in his front parking lot by trespassing on the officially marked EPA ground zero behind the restaurant. An entire encampment of the homeless had moved into the no-man’s-land along the burned-out harbor strip, and the original chain link blocking it off had been appropriated for other uses over the years, mostly as shells for makeshift shelters. Everyone used the contaminated alley these days.
Ernesto cast me an evil eye but, seeing Andre, bit his unholy tongue. Assessing Andre’s scowl, he diverted his path, entered his office, and shut the door. The man was smarter than I’d thought.
People, instead of walls, were giving me claustrophobia. My stress level was such that I almost understood Sarah’s need to turn into a chimp to escape.
I returned to my cash counting, wondering what I was, too. “I assume you will explain that comment over dinner?” I asked icily.
Even Sarah was looking at me warily now. Had I an ounce of backbone, I’d have slapped the back ofAndre’s head to knock some sense into it, but, as I’ve said, I wasn’t into active protest anymore.
“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up with the cash.” Andre sipped his drink in obvious disgruntlement. So much for the insouciant image he usually projected.
He’d kissed me, and now he thought he was protecting me.
“I have no reason to hide,” I taunted him.
He didn’t respond, just gathered up my tallied cash and began stuffing it into the deposit bag.
“I need a second job,” I told him. “I need some quick cash. Have you got anything?”
I kept counting, unwilling to register his disbelief or scorn. If I focused on my goals, I’d get past him eventually.
“Yeah, Ernesto always needs more help. Seems women don’t like working with him,” he said dryly. “Want me to put in a word for you?”
I tallied the last deposit, slapped it on top of the bag he was holding, and, without answering his taunt, marched over to Ernesto’s office—I couldn’t really call it our office, since I’d yet to use it. I didn’t hesitate at the door but limped in.
The scumbucket glanced up, glowered, and waited. I think one of his chrome desk ornaments skittered away and hid in a drawer.
Undaunted, I stated my case. “I need to earn some extra cash. Andre says you might have an opening. I don’t dance. I can waitress, hostess, tend bar, and handle cash. I have a résumé if you need one.”
“I need a kitchen
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