Page 11 of Deceitful Oath
Although I’ve never been inside, I know my father liked to come here for lunch sometimes with his associates. The staff never bothered them, the coffee was hot, and the food wasn’thalf bad. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Rocky was aware of who they were and knew how to keep his mouth shut.
I duck into the alley between Rocky’s and the bookstore next door and make my way to the back door. It’s wide open, letting the fresh air in. I can hear 70s rock playing on a dinky little radio and a man’s voice singing along—badly.
The sizzle of the grill hits me hard as I slip inside, the smell of greasy bacon infiltrating my nostrils.
“Knock, knock.”
Rocky spins around, dropping his spatula. He’s a heavyset guy in his mid-forties. A dark mustache lines his upper lip and a shirt that says “Kiss the Chef” stretches across his belly. I grin, my devilish mask slipping easily onto my face.
“Who the hell are you?” he demands, recovering from the surprise. “Can’t you read the sign? Employees only.”
“I think this,” I retort, twirling my gun around my finger, “gives me some leeway. What do you think?”
Rocky immediately puts his hands up and backs away, panic flashing across his face. “Hey, hey, hey man, listen. We’re a family restaurant…all we got in the register is fives and tens, but take ‘em. Just leave me the hell out of it.”
“I don’t want your money,” I say, slowly walking across the kitchen toward him. He keeps shuffling back until he smashes into the fridge doors. I grin and polish my gun against my suit jacket.
This is the best part of my job. This exact moment. The other guy doesn’t know if he’s about to die, get knocked out, or just have a conversation. The panic, the fear, it makes it all worth it.
I slam my hand against the refrigerator, trapping him. He gasps for breath, his pupils moving wildly. I feel kind of sorry for him, actually. He looks like he’s about to give himself a heart attack so I step back, tucking my gun away.
“The name’s Romano,” I say, crossing my arms. “I’m sure you’re familiar.”
He takes a long wheezing breath, clutching his chest, and nods.
“My father died here yesterday, on top of your table in the back. You know that?”
“Wha ... what?” He looks genuinely confused. “That can’t be…I saw him yesterday, he was fine.”
Uncertainty and fear swirl in his eyes, coloring his cheeks pink. I can see the truth in his statement. Damn, the waitress didn’t tell him someone died in his establishment? Well, that makes this easier.
“Your waitress never reported the death?”
“No, no, Mr. Romano, sir,” he answers instantly, wiping his sweaty palms on his apron. “This is the first I’m hearing about it.”
“Don’t you think that goes against policy?”
“To be honest,” he stammers, shrugging his shoulders. “We don’t really have many policies…any policies, really. Except don’t steal.”
“I think you need to institute a new policy then,” I say casually, “and fire employees who don’t comply. Don’t you?”
“You want me to…” he trails off, looking confused. “Wait, you want me to fire Luxy?”
“Sounds fair to me,” I reply, turning to leave, my voice laced with malice. “Thanks for being so understanding, Rocky.”
“But Mr. Romano,” he falters, following me to the door. “She’s such a good girl. And she needs this job, badly. Can’t I just …”
“I’ll be sending some associates over if you don’t do your part,” I toss over my shoulder, rounding the corner. “Trust me, you don’t want to meet them.”
I step out of the alley and into the sunshine. A smile spreads across my face as I saunter back to my car.
Step one of destroying the waitress’ life? Complete.
Just wait till you see what’s next, baby.
Chapter Four
Lux