by Raven Scott
Circling my beer bottle absently, I stared at a bright glint from the light above the bar, but my mind was somewhere else. Budget-buildings were exactly what they sounded like— construction of residentials on a strict, low budget whose function was to simply break even. The concept was fairly new. No one wanted to lose money, but Seattle was a pretty avant-garde city, so I figured there’d be no harm in trying.
Budget-buildings promoted the opportunity for some philanthropic work, which was something I always acknowledged I needed. Otherwise, it’d be a lot more difficult to cover up the massive amounts of drugs I smuggled in through Port Authority, or worse, the things I smuggled out.
Around me, the restaurant was bustling, considering the fact it was a Monday, and I twisted on my stool to gaze out at the crowd and lifted my beer to my lips to hide my frown. Many of these people probably worked for me in some capacity but didn’t realize it. My development firm was an umbrella, with many more companies underneath it. Without my glasses, everything was blurry, but I could make out bodies, and that was enough.
Have you ever considered trying to make friends? Dr. Laura’s question from three days ago still plagued me, and my eyes narrowed as I scanned the restaurant. Obviously, this wasn’t the place to try anything. Everyone had their own little cloisters, and a stranger wasn’t wanted. My eyelid twitched as I shook my head, and I turned back around just as the bartender walked by me in a tizzy. Sipping my beer as I waited for my food, I listened to the conversations and noises around me, but it didn’t take long before a harsh voice rose above the others.
Seated at a tall-top populating the bar area, an older man and what appeared to be his son started berating the waitress. For a long moment, the viciousness of his tone blocked out exactly what he was saying, and I twisted with my beer to watch unabashed.
“What are you— stupid? I said I don’t need an I.D. I’m obviously over twenty-one.” My eyes narrowed into slits as the poor waitress froze from how voraciously her patron attacked her. Irritation flooded my veins, and I set my beer on the bar to lean back against the edge on my forearms. “I want a Dos Equis. Now!”
“Sir, I can’t serve liquor without an I.D.” Scanning the waitress, I realized two things— this might’ve been her first job because fuck all if the other waitresses carded. Not to mention she’s short, and this guy is looming over her while sitting down. She managed to squeak out the reiteration, but she was clearly uncomfortable, and tension raced down my spine and into my legs. “It’s . . . it’s the rules, and I don’t make them. Please calm down s—"
Oh, he did not like that. The man— older than me, if his grays were any indication— slammed both his palms on the table and the whole restaurant went quiet in shock. The waitress jumped three feet in the air, her dark red hair flailing around her wide, bright eyes, and I stood to walk over. Clearly, this guy was laser-focused on this poor girl because he hadn’t noticed me sitting at the bar ten feet away. Smug triumph flared in his eyes at the sight of me. Even with my 15/15 vision, I could see it.
“You’re the manager? Good. I—" Holding up a hand to silence him, I gazed at the man steadily as eyes bore into me from all sides.
“What is your name, sir?” He sputtered out something in his surprise, Jack Something, and I nodded curtly. “Jack. Where do you work?”
Again with the stammering, and I put on my glasses to really see his face as it tinged red. The faint lines around his mouth and eyes deepened, and he actually looked a little familiar. I’d seen his picture somewhere even though the company he was employed at was just a subsidiary of mine.
“What are you here to celebrate? Considering how strongly you insist on a beer, it must be something special.” This time, it was the son who sat up a little and smiled beyond his embarrassment, and I turned to him to completely ignore his father. “Well?”
“I . . . I apologize for my dad. He does this all the time. But . . . we’re celebrating me getting my first job in the field I went to college for.” My cheek twitched in a slight smirk at the strange mix of mortification and pride in this kid’s eyes. He was beyond embarrassed about his father, but he wanted to enjoy his achievement, which he very much should. I nodded before turning back to Jack.
“What about you, sir?”
“I work in a factory that makes artificial building materials.” Oh, yes, I’m aware. I own it. “I worked nights to ma—"
“I really don’t care, sir.” Jack went red in the face again, and I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to swipe through my contacts. “Are you aware your company has an ethical standard that all employees are required to sign off on at the start of their employment?”
“Uh . . . uh . . . I remember signing it.”
“Well, you signed it, but you obviously didn’t read it. It states that any public behavior considered belligerent or negatively reflective of the workplace is cause for termination.” That got Jack’s attention and he tensed as his pinched expression became redder and redder out of the top of my field of vision. “I just watched you verbally accost a waitress for doing her job, and I was concerned, reasonably enough, about her physical safety that I personally stepped in. All you had to do was show her your I.D. It’s a simple, convenient thing for you to do. It’s also the law, and whether other waitresses abide by it or not is irrelevant.”
I finally found the number I wanted, tapped my phone’s speaker on, and held up a finger to Jack as he started to pale in realization. Maybe I wasn’t the big boss, but I was a big boss, and he fucked up. Bad.
“Mr. Santino, what a surprise. I assume it’s not going to be a pleasant one considering it’s seven-thirteen in the evening.” Cocking my head when Jack clearly recognized his supervisor’s voice, I waited for him to protest, to get loud and angry as he had been with a girl half his size.
“I’m here at Hansen’s Bar and Grill, and I have just acquainted myself with Jack . . . Something. I didn’t catch his last name. What’s your last name, sir?” To be honest, I was kind of enjoying this game. Jack grumbled his last name as I held out the bottom of my cell. “You’re his direct supervisor, correct?”
“Yeah. He called out tonight, said his boy got a great career opportunity and wanted to celebrate. He’s never called out of the night shift, so I agreed.” My brows rose in surprise and humor tightened my chest at the fact Jack hadn’t lied about the situation. True, it gave him a point or two, but I couldn’t un-see what I saw. “Why?”
“Fire him for an ethics violation.” Staring Jack in his flashing gray eyes, I didn’t let my smirk shine through at the gasps that sounded around me. Shock rippled through the air, and the supervisor, whose contact was just Material Plant Super 1 in my phone, choked a little in surprise.
“Uh . . . um . . . no offense, Mr. Santino, but what ethics violation are we talking about, specifically? Even though you own the place, I can’t just fire him without cause.”
“No offense taken. I just watched him physically intimidate a—" Turning to the waitress, I quietly asked her how old she was, and she stammered a weak ‘sixteen,’ which I expected. “Jack physically intimidated a sixteen-year-old girl over the presentation of his I.D. to buy a beer. As I said to him, I worried about her safety enough to step in myself.”
“Okay. I’ll put him on unpaid administrative leave pending an investigation, and not that I don’t believe you, but I need proof. If there’s cameras or, like, someone took a video on their phone . . . audio would suffice, too, I suppose.”
“I’ll get what I can to you in the morning. Thank you.” And, just like that, we hung up, and I turned on my heel to this girl cowering behind me. She’d calmed down a little once she realized there was someone between her and Jack, and I gestured toward the kitchen. “Go on and take a few minutes if you need to.”
She bolted for the kitchen without hesitation, and I walked back to my stool to signal the bartender for another beer for myself. Ants . . . sometimes try to eat other ants.
How primitive.
> “This one’s on the house.” The woman who sidled up in front of me smiled broadly, and I nodded gratefully as she popped the cap of the dark green bottle. “By the way, I didn’t know I’d been replaced! I should just take my managerial skills out the door in shame.”
“I would appreciate your cooperation with the investigator, and you can keep your job in exchange.” She held out her hand, and I took it before she gave me my beer with a nod. “That girl’s new, right?”
“Yeah, this is her third or so shift. I don’t know who put Jack at her table, but I’m going to give that person a stern talking to. He’s a regular, and not the good kind. The boss says it’s easier to not make a scene, but either he won’t come here anymore, or he’ll be more polite to the waitresses, so it’s a win-win either way.” Taking a gulp of my brew, I nodded in acknowledgment, and she shook her head a little in dismay. “It’s pretty sad how people treat other people in the service industry.”
“I think it tells you all you need to know about a person.” When I glanced back, Jack and his son were sitting in an awkward, tense silence, and I scoffed lightly. “You should go check on her.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to let her off tonight. Her shift’s almost over since she’s not allowed to work more than four hours at a time, anyway. Thank you for helping her.” Tilting my bottle as the actual bartender came out with my food, I sat back a little as the manager returned to the kitchen, and I had to admit . . .
I felt pretty damn good.
4
Oran
“Mr. Santino! Sir!” Pausing at the call, I turned toward the sound and surprise rose my brows as a pretty woman in business casual attire came rushing down the sidewalk. “Excuse me. I apologize for bothering you. Do you have a moment to spare?”
“Depends on how that moment will be used.” Her sleek cherry-blonde hair fluttered in the breeze of cars speeding past, and I glanced down at my watch briefly. When I looked up, big greenish-hazel eyes locked on mine, and the woman nodded firmly as she straightened her thin shoulders.
“At Hansen’s on Monday, you got someone fired for abusing my sister.” Pursing my lips thinly, I nodded in confirmation, and she stuck out a fragile-looking hand with gratitude drenching her features. “Thank you. I just . . . I wanted to thank you in person for going above and beyond.”
“You’re very welcome.” Her long fingers wrapped around my palm, but I was at a bit of a loss as I cocked my head quizzically. “Did you go out of your way just to thank me for some common decency?”
“Yes, I did.” She kept shaking my hand, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how matter-of-factly she spoke. Her cheeks pinked, and she smiled as the twinkles brightened in her eyes. “Ah, I’m May. I just . . . thank you very much, Mr. Santino.”
“Call me Oran. You know, I believe I do have a few moments. Would you like to grab a coffee before you head into work, May?” The day itself seemed brighter when she smiled broadly, and May finally withdrew her palm from mine to grab her purse straps. “Wonderful.”
“Yeah, okay. You know, that job at Hansen’s, I clearly explained Sarah’s mental condition to the owner, and that she’s not supposed to serve tables in the bar area. Technically, Sarah’s not supposed to serve alcohol at all because she’s only sixteen, but you know how it is. No one really cares much about the particulars.” My breath caught at that, and I frowned under furrowed brows as May inhaled deeply. “No one takes mental illness seriously. They look at Sarah and think that because they can’t see something broken, nothing is.”
“Do you mind my asking what her condition is?” We began walking, and May pulled her elbow-length hair over her shoulder to exhale a shaky breath. “You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“She’s got autism, pretty mild. You know, mild enough that she can be a functioning human being for all intents and purposes. The thing is, Sarah’s people skills are rock bottom. I’m a regular at Hansen’s, so I talked to the manager. Nothing serious, just eight hours a week. It’s not for money— I make enough for us both.” Clenching my jaw hard, I ducked my head in thought as May combed her slender fingers through the ends of her hair. “She’s terrified of going back, and I can’t convince her otherwise. She doesn’t go to school, either. They couldn’t handle her. My parents couldn’t handle her. I can barely manage. Sarah does what she wants, when she wants, and if she doesn’t want to do something, she won’t.”
“What is it she likes to do?” Curiousness tainted my voice, and I could see that girl when I blinked— she refused eye contact or made too stern eye contact. Nothing so serious struck me, but our encounter was a minute, if that, and I was more concerned about getting the attention off her than putting my own on her.
“Oh, Sarah loves birds. That’s the obsessive part of her condition. She loves one thing and one thing only, and she’s so inquisitive about it. I encourage it, but, I mean, how do birds help her be a developed adult?” The more she spoke, the more emotion showed in her voice, and May cast me a sheepish look when I gazed down at her. She’s short, even in heels. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain about it, and everyone’s entitled to their passions . . . I just don’t want her to be that kid.”
“And it’s just you two, yes? Do your parents live in Washington?” May nodded, her lips thinning, and she puffed softly as a delicate crease appeared between her brows. “I assume they don’t come by as often as you’d like.”
“They haven’t seen her in over four months, no. I get calls, but they stopped asking about Sarah. It’s frustrating, but I feel like trying to force a relationship will do more harm than good. Even, you know, indulging in her hobby of birds, and the online classes she takes, I’m not entirely convinced that she’s happy. I have full guardianship of Sarah right now, which . . . I’m only twenty-three. I have a great job that I like and want to advance in, and Sarah and I are great sisters, just not much else.” We reached the hole in the wall a block from my building, and I opened the door for May as my mind churned. Sarah honestly sounded fascinating. Who the hell had a passion for birds, anyway? Gesturing May through the threshold, I followed her and wondered how those slim shoulders draped in white silk could possibly hold all that responsibility.
“So, do you think Sarah has improved since she moved in with you?” I was so unsure of how such a simple concept as saying ‘thank you’ to my face turned into a . . . a life story. Letting May in line before me, I reached to rub my jaw and cover my mouth as I frowned. The smell of coffee flooded my lungs, and May turned to me with a determined set in her features. “You know, May, I have no idea what to say to any of this. As much as I appreciate you seeking me out to thank me, and as admirable as you are, I don’t see where this is going.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened and flashed greener, and she shook her head and held up her hands in surrender. “I was just talking. I didn’t mean to make you think I wanted something from you. I mean, I did— I wanted to thank you, Mr. Santino. It’s . . . it’s just that you seem very trustworthy.”
“Right. I’m curious— where do you work? In a nice corner office, I presume?” She glanced down, and I arched a brow quizzically when she glanced up from under her thick lashes. “No? Really?”
“Not usually, no. I’m on a trip to Corporate for my boss. He’s a bit, um, irresponsible with his schedule. I actually design ships. My official title is ‘Nautical Vessel Architect’ which is weird because nautical vessels by definition are ships with sails and wood and . . . ” She trailed off, her cheeks flaming as an appreciative smile stretched my lips, and I chuffed a laugh. “So . . . yeah. That’s what I do. My team leader scheduled two meetings at the same time, so he took the one with the big boss, and I’m being sent to the sharks. Pardon the pun.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you not know what you’re talking or listening to? At the very least, you look the part. They’ll go easy on you in there because you’re cute.” The compliment earned me a giggle, and she tucked her hair
behind her ear before the line actually started to move. Now that I thought about it, I did have a meeting in about an hour with someone about shipping, and my eyelid twitched at the revelation. “You don’t happen to have that meeting on the thirty-first floor of the building around the corner, are you?”
“Yeah, why? Are you going to be there?” Do I or don’t I? What kind of dumbass question was that? Nodding firmly, my smile widened when May’s brightened, and I checked my watch absently. “So, what’s your strategy? Are you going to try to pass the idea off as your own or admit you’re a know-nothing underling out of your depth?”
“Oh, no, it is my plan. Most of the plans he brings up are mine, but he can sell them a lot better than I can. I’m being looked at for a promotion.”
“Ah, well, allow me to congratulate you by paying for your large coffee. You’re going to need it.” May nodded, mouthing ‘thank you,’ and I turned to the barista just as the customer in front of us shuffled to the side.
5
May
The air was knocked from my lungs as I stared at the man sitting across from me, and I could feel my face freezing from the icy tendrils that spread from my chest.
“I-I’m sorry. Can you . . . did you say that David has been passing off my intellectual innovation as his own?” The atmosphere in the room became uncomfortable, and I leaned forward to clasp my hands on the glass table to stop them shaking. “Can you repeat that?”
“I said I was surprised how knowledgeable you are about David’s concept, Ms. Hart. Are you implying that the proposal he submitted to us was committed to by you?” Covering my grimace with curled fingers, I could only nod, and the executive watching me through narrowed eyes frowned deeply. “Miss, these are serious accusations. Are you prepared to back up your claims if we launch an investigation? We take innovative theft very seriously.”
