Chapter 4
LENI
The night air blows across my face, cooling me down after the suffocating heat inside the police station. I breathe it in greedily. Freedom. God, I’d forgotten how precious it was until I almost lost it.
I look around the parking lot—rows of cars, a few bored people coming and going. Ordinary, quiet. Exactly what I need. Now that I’ve had a little taste of what jail might be like, I appreciate my freedom in a way I never have before.
I can’t believe that silly plan actually worked.
Hell, it wasn’t even a real plan—more like a half-baked lie I blurted out before I could think better of it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Romero watching me, those green eyes twinkling as they've been doing since I uttered my first words to him.
My heart gives an embarrassing thud, and I quickly glance away.
He must know I lied about us being together last year. The man is not an idiot. So why did he help me anyway? Does he get some twisted kick out of being lied to? Is that his kink?
“Um, thank you so much for tonight.” The words tumble out, awkward and rushed. “We might have had to spend the night there if you hadn’t stepped in.”
A smirk spreads across his face—the kind that should come with a warning label. “It’s nothing less than you deserve… for me forgetting you so quickly.”
Before I can come up with a comeback, he pulls a card and pen out of his pocket, flips the card over, and scribbles something on the back. When he hands it to me, our fingers brush, and I swear there’s an actual spark. Not metaphorical. Actual electricity.
I look down at the card. It’s thick, matte black with gold letters spelling out only his full name and office address.
Not his position or even the name of his law firm.
And yet it exudes sophistication and class, the edges gilded with streaks of platinum.
I don’t need to be told that just this one card might be enough to pay my entire monthly bills with some change left to spare. He must be rich as hell.
I flip it over and my pulse goes haywire. A number is scribbled in confident, masculine handwriting. His number. A giddy rush floods my system, making me feel dizzy. Is he interested in me?
When I look up, he’s studying me with those calculating eyes, and I feel completely exposed.
“I–I’m–” My gaze darts to Ethan standing a few feet away, watching this entire exchange with barely concealed curiosity.
So I swallow the words burning on my tongue—the ones about not sleeping with him—and settle for something safer. “Thank you.”
His smirk deepens. “Try to stay out of trouble, bellezza.” Then he turns and walks away towards an expensive-looking car parked nearby.
“A Maybach.” Ethan’s fervent whisper gets to my ear as I study the dark, glossy paint. The driver’s door opens as Romero approaches, and some guy in a suit steps out to open the back door for him.
Romero slides in without glancing back once, and my heart sinks—like I expected something.
A glance. A word. Anything. I’m not even sure what—as the door closes with a soft, expensive click that somehow sounds final.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the ridiculous pang of melancholy.
Ethan’s low whistling as the car pulls away thankfully yanks me back to reality.
The brutal, unforgiving reality of how completely and utterly fucked I am.
“That guy is officially my new hero. Did you hear how commanding he sounded when he was laying down the law to those detectives?” Ethan grins, rubbing his hands together with boyish excitement. “Is he trying to date you?”
I glare at him, though my cheeks burn with the memory of those green eyes.
“We’re not talking about me or the man who was kind enough to help us out.
What the hell were you thinking, Ethan? What were you doing at the hole?
You know exactly what goes on in that place.
” I’ve drilled this into his thick skull a thousand times.
He tips his chin up, mouth tightening into a scowl that makes him look like the stubborn teenager he still is. “It’s none of your business. I never interrogate you about where you go, do I?”
This little shit…
I gape at him, flabbergasted by the sheer audacity, but before I can come up with a suitably cutting reply that involves several creative uses of the word ‘ungrateful’, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I fish it out, wincing at the time display.
I’m over three hours past the deadline Fred gave me.
Three hours. My hands shake as I unlock the screen, and thoughts of Ethan’s attitude evaporate when I see the text.
Fred
Don’t bother showing up again, Leni. You no longer have a job here.
My blood goes so cold, a shiver runs through me as I read the words over and over until they blur in front of me.
I knew this would happen. I knew it. But having it actually happen still feels like someone kicked me in the chest. Ethan peeks at my phone, and I don’t even have the energy to swat him away.
No job? How am I—no, how are we going to survive now?
When I look up, Ethan has the decency to wince when our eyes meet. His mouth parts, voice a little rough. “That’s because of me, isn’t it? Because you came to the hole and got arrested.”
I don’t answer him. Can’t answer him. Instead, I lock my phone and start pacing in front of the police station, my mind racing through impossible scenarios. What the hell am I going to do now? It took me months, months to get that job with Fred.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My chest tightens, lungs burning as tears threaten to spill. But I blink rapidly, sniffing like a maniac as I pace back and forth. I’m not going to cry, damn it. Despite tonight’s disaster, I’m not some damsel in distress.
“What if I went to the diner with you and explained what happened to your boss? He’ll understand, won’t he?”
I stop pacing, turning to stare at Ethan in genuine surprise. “You… you would do that?”
“Of course. You’re my sister.” He walks towards me and pats my back awkwardly. “You’re also our primary breadwinner. Losing your job would suck. Our water already got cut off yesterday; we need your paycheck before our electricity is next.”
The warm feeling blooming in my chest dies instantly.
“Of course.” It’s not about me—it’s about the money I bring to the table.
Always about the money. I sigh as I scan the lot for my scooter.
I had to drop the rest of the cash on me at the register after I got released to pay for it getting towed to the station.
I feel the loss of that money acutely. We’re going to need every penny now more than ever. But at least I don’t have to go back to that godforsaken place.
“You’re forbidden from ever going back there, you hear me?”
Ethan shuffles his feet, defiance creeping back into his voice. “You can’t tell me what to do, you–”
“I can and I am telling you right now—you are never to set foot in the hole again. If you do…” I swallow, lifting my chin. “…then it means I’m no longer your sister.”
His jaw drops, but I’ve spotted my scooter, so I start walking away from him in long, aggressive strides. He jogs after me. “Are you threatening to disown me?”
“Very smart of you, Ethan. Yes, that’s precisely what I’m doing.
” I toss a withering glare over my shoulder, lengthening my strides even more, but the asshole is almost as tall as I am now and has no trouble keeping up.
“Do you have any idea what your actions did tonight? You didn’t just put yourself in danger—you put me in danger, and by extension, that means you put Mom in danger too. ”
She no longer works and depends entirely on my income, pathetic as it is.
If I had been hurt while I was at the hole, or if I was somehow unable to secure mine and Ethan’s release and had to spend time in jail, she’d become homeless and destitute.
“You put the entire family at risk because you couldn’t be bothered to think,” I finish, voice tight.
He goes quiet, his head dropping as the gravity of what he did finally sinks in. “I’m sorry.”
We reach my scooter and I hand him my spare helmet, staring him down with every ounce of authority I can muster. “It’s not enough to just be sorry, Ethan. You have to promise that you’ll never go back there. And you have to mean it.”
He swallows hard, looking properly contrite as he meets my eyes. “I promise.”
“Thank you.” Mollified, I put my helmet on and swing my legs over the scooter, shifting forward to give him enough space to sit behind me. I start the bike, and thank God, it roars to life on the first try—a small mercy in a night full of disasters.
I know it’s probably hopeless going back to the diner after how spectacularly I screwed up, but I have to at least try. I have to fight for this.
The last few days I’ve been showing up late because life kept throwing curveballs at me. Monday, when Mom passed out at the bus station a few blocks from our house and I had to drop everything to go pick her up.
Yesterday, when the water got cut off mid-shower and I spent over an hour arguing with the customer care representative of the water company before realizing I’d forgotten to pay the damn bill.
I had some suspicions when I had extra money left over last week. Should have known it was too good to be true.
Sure, I might have been late a few other times this month as well, but I had good reasons for all of them, which I explained to Fred. Still… this is business. He’s going to put his diner first over an employee with a sob story.
I just pray he’ll give me one more chance.
“No.” Fred’s voice is firm, final. “I’m sorry about your rough night, but I really can’t hire you back, Leni. I need to put my business first if I don’t want to go into debt.”
I swallow around the painful lump lodged in my throat. “I know I messed up a couple of times, but I’m going to try harder this time, Fred. I promise you that.”
Ethan nods vigorously beside me, practically bouncing with nervous energy. “I won’t distract her with my troubles again. She’s always late because of me.”
My boss just shakes his head, and I can see the decision is already carved in stone. “I’m sorry.”
“But…” Ethan trails off when I grab his arm.
“Thank you. I appreciate having had the opportunity to work here.” I turn with my brother and start to leave Fred’s office.
His heavy sigh behind me sends a spark of hope through my chest, and I’ve already stopped walking before his voice reaches me. “Wait.”
I spin back around, heart hammering.
“I can’t give you your job here back,” he says slowly, “but I have a catering service this weekend, and I need two more waiters who–”
“I’ll do it!” The words burst out before he can finish. It’s a one-time job, but the money should be enough to keep us afloat for next week while I try to sort out another job. “I’ll do it, please.”
“You can’t disappoint me, Leni.”
“I won’t. I swear, I won’t.” I can’t afford to.