Runs Deep by R.D. Brady

mind and focused on the job at hand. One thing at a time. After a few fumbled starts, Steve soon got the hang of things and fell back into the old, familiar rhythm of the diner. It went pretty well, everything considered. In fact, the only fly in the ointment was Mel’s waitress, Wendy. She had been decidedly cold, if not downright hostile.
    For the umpteenth time that morning, Steve placed a plate on the window and rang the bell. “Order up.”
    Wendy came and picked it up, careful not to make eye contact with him. Steve had overheard her complaining to Mel about having to work with a murderer. Steve really hoped he didn’t get fired. He needed this job. One of the conditions of his parole was employment. It was a tough job market, and that was before you added the ex-con line to the resume. He’d met a few guys inside who’d been yanked back in when they’d lost their jobs. Steve couldn’t even think about that possibility.
    Shawn, who’d worked with Mel forever, had shown up to take care of the lunch crowd about an hour ago. Shawn was rail thin, with a full head of pure white hair, dark skin, and a big smile. He and Mel had met in the Navy. In fact, Shawn was the one who’d convinced Mel to move to Millners Kill when their tours were up.
    Steve had been scheduled to leave when Shawn took over, but the diner had gotten slammed—everyone must have realized this was probably their last chance to get out and about before the storm hit—so Steve stayed to help. Still, heeding Mel’s words, he made sure to stay away from the kitchen window. He even kept his back to the dining area as much as possible when working. And it seemed to have worked. No one had given him a second glance.
    Eventually, things settled down, and the diner started to clear out. Shawn leaned back against the counter and wiped his hands on a towel. “Well, I think that’s the end of the rush. Thanks for sticking around.”
    “Sure. Actually, I enjoyed it.” And it was true. It was nice to be working—and not thinking.
    Shawn nodded. “I ever tell you about my time inside?”
    Steve looked back, surprised. “No. You never mentioned it.”
    “It was back when I was eighteen. Stupid shit. Friend decided to rob a store. I drove the car. I didn’t realize what was happening.” He paused. “Ah, hell, I probably did. I just didn’t think too much about it. Anyway, we got caught because we were a couple of idiots. I spent four years inside.”
    “Where?”
    “Auburn. When I got out, I had a chip the size of a boulder on my shoulder.” He shook his head. “Took a while to get that off. Navy helped with that. One day, though, I just realized that all the bad things happening to me, I’d really done to myself. My life wasn’t going to get better on its own. I had to make that happen. Wasn’t easy, but I did. You can too.”
    Steve took a good long look at Shawn. He’d never realized Shawn had been locked up. Shawn was married, had been for years, even had a couple of grandkids. Steve felt a little kernel of hope.
    Shawn stuck out his hand. “Just keep moving forward, kid. You’ll get there.”
    “Yeah, I will. And thanks.” Steve shook Shawn’s hand before untying his apron and hanging it on the same hook he’d taken it from nine hours ago. He was about to head out when Mel appeared from the hall that led back to his office. He wasn’t smiling.
    “Steve, can I talk to you for a minute?”
    A pit formed at the bottom of Steve’s stomach. Oh, no, no, no. I can’t get fired. I can’t go home and tell Grandma I got fired. But despite the storm of emotions running through him, he kept his face a mask and his voice even. “Sure.”
    He followed Mel down the back hall to his office, which was located across from the storeroom and next to the back exit.
    “Close the door,” Mel said as he took a seat behind his desk.
    Steve closed the door and sat on one of the folding chairs in front of Mel’s ancient desk. “Look, Mel, I know