Chapter 2
The minute he walked in, Camilla felt he was bad news. For one thing, Rafael”s brother looked like a gang member, even with his wrinkled dress shirt and khaki slacks. He was tall and muscular and handsome, from what she could see. She could see his muscles through the oversized dress shirt. His dark hair was just a little too long, hanging over his collar and almost to his shoulders. He had a deceptively innocent-looking face with round brown eyes like a puppy”s, but Camilla did not allow his looks to sway her. The scars on his knuckles translated to someone who had spent a lot of time-fighting and was rough around the edges.
Camilla knew it wasn”t right to judge him so quickly and harshly. Maybe she wouldn”t have if he”d had a better attitude. But, instead, all Camilla knew was that it was a good thing that Rafael was a family friend. Otherwise, she”d never even given someone like his brother a snowball”s chance.
She told Abel that he would start the next day and to dress casually but with no jeans and tennis shoes. After that, she planned to get his size and order him uniforms, but in the meantime, it should be fine since he was going to be working in the back. Still, an hour before his shift, she expected him to walk in wearing dirty jeans, a white sleeveless t-shirt, a bandana over his eyes, and a toothpick in his mouth.
To her surprise, he arrived as she”d suggested. He wore a plain black t-shirt, brown slacks, and loafers. His hair was still too long, but it wasn”t like she could tell him to get a haircut in a day. He walked in, and she looked him over silently as she stood behind the counter. She spotted the bottom of a tattoo peeking out of his sleeve and pursed her lips. She didn”t care much for tattoos, but at least his was mainly covered.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. Abel was about five minutes early. ”You”re late.”
His brow furrowed. ”I”m five minutes early.”
”You should be here fifteen minutes early,” she said. ”My father always said, If you”re on time, you”re late.”
He raised one dark eyebrow. ”Are you going to dock me for it?”
Smart-aleck” and smirked at her. ”Not this time. Come on.”
She tossed him an apron and waved at him to follow her. He caught the apron, walked behind the counter, and followed her to the back.
The staff had just cleaned the back room of the pizzeria. The pizza boxes were all on the back counter, stacked to the ceiling in three neat rows. Next to them was an industrial sink, and next to that was a wall with cooking utensils hanging from it, including a sizeable wooden pizza peel. On the counter were several tools, pans, and knives, all for pizza making. In the center of the room was one metal counter where Abel would make the pizzas, and in one corner were the pizza ovens – four in total.
”This is where you”ll be working,” she said. She walked over to the small window looking out at the counter area. ”You”ll get your ticket here, and whatever it says, you”ll make. Easy enough?”
He was watching her with a strange one-sided smile on his face, his arms crossed. ”Sure,” he said.
”And hair nets are in the cabinet behind you.” She watched as he turned slightly and looked at the cabinet, registering where it was but making no move to get one. Then, finally, she huffed and got a hair net for him, handing it to him. ”I don”t want to see you working without one.”
”Sure,” he said again.
Next, Camilla went over the arduous task of showing Abel how to make a pizza. She went step by step, showing him where everything was and what tools to use, then showing him exactly how to make the dough, the sauce, and the rest of the toppings. Everything, so far, was bagged up and prepared, so this was easy. She was thankful she didn”t have to show him how she made everything he”d be using.
As if reading her mind, at a certain point, he asked, ”Where do you get your product from?”
”I make it all from scratch; they are my father”s recipes,” she said simply. Abel frowned as if she”d said something incorrect. She ignored it. ”Anyway, that”s how it”s all done. When the restaurant opens, we”ll start on the first order.”
He did not object or respond to Camilla, and she went on. ”Let”s look at making the other things on the menu, okay?”
In the hours before opening, Camilla showed him how to make salads, garlic cheese bread, and other side dishes on the menu, with no expectation of his remembering any of them. But, while she trained him, she started to notice little things about him that were sparking her eyes to wander. His height and the way she could feel his breath on her neck when he stood next to her, how his rough-looking hands handled the dough gently as he was kneading it, how he smirked or just said ”sure” when she gave him instructions.
Rough ex-convict that he was, he was attractive, though she would never let me know what she was thinking. There was work to be done, after all. But unfortunately, Camilla needed more time to train new employees and her staff.
Once the day started, she realized that no one else was on the same page with that idea. She had about five teens working the front desk and two young women as waitresses for the restaurant”s small dining area. All of them were very interested in Abel. Before the time the doors opened, she”d caught two female teenagers peeking at him through the window and both servers checking him out from afar while giggling in the corner. ”Don”t you have something to do?” she”d said to both groups to snap their necks back to their jobs. Camilla was beginning to regret the decision to hire Abel already.
Rocky”s start was when the doors opened, and it was time to see Abel work in a trial by fire. For the first few orders, things were going well.
”Abel,” she said, taking the first ticket. ”Pepperoni and Sausage deep dish.”
”Got it,” he said, getting the dough for the first order. As soon as he was halfway through that order, Camilla read off the second ticket.
”Vegetarian thin crust, no onions.”
”Uh-huh,” he said, still working on the first pizza. Camilla shifted her feet nervously as he worked. When he finally got that pizza in the oven and started working on the next one, she said, ”Next one”s a plain cheese pizza, so that”ll be easy.”
”Yup.”
His short responses were starting to annoy her. Did he have the orders? Was she going to have to repeat herself? She huffed and started with the fourth ticket.
”Another thin crust,” she said. ”Pepperoni and bacon this time.”
”Sure.”
She glared at him. He looked at her and smirked, seeming to enjoy her bothered disposition.
”Do you have all that?”
”Yup.”
She frowned at him. ””Yup”? That”s all you have to say?”
He breathed a loud, laborious sigh as he grabbed dough for the third pizza. ”First pizza, Pepperoni, and Sausage deep dish. Second pizza, thin crust veggie. The third is plain cheese, and the fourth is Pepperoni and Bacon. Anything else?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. ”Fine. Next pizza…”
They went on this way through the lunch rush, and every time he got the pizza made, and out to the customer, Camilla found herself getting more annoyed. But he was doing a decent job. He remembered every order and made every pizza with fewer mistakes on his first day than anyone else she ever hired.
He was short with her, however. First, he responds with a ”Yup” or a ”Sure” in acknowledgment. Then, as she got testier and testier, she finally stopped acknowledging her and just made the food in chilly silence.
Finally, she could not take it anymore. She slammed her hands down on the pizza counter before Abel could get another round of dough on the table. ”I need a response, so I know you”ve got the orders.”
”What for?” he asked her, crossing his arms.
”What—What do you mean what for? How am I supposed to know you”ve got it?”
He shrugged. ”Have any of them come back?”
”That”s not the point,” she said.
”Answer my question. Has anything I”ve made come back?” Abel pressed.
”No, but—”
”Great. So, you don”t have to hover over me anymore. I got it.”
She stared at him, wordlessly offended. How dare he talk to her like that! ”You”re not perfect, you know,” she said. ”If you screw up, no one”s going to blame you. I”m the one who is going to get the bad reviews, not you. If you screw this up—”
”I”m not going to screw this up,” he said mockingly. ”You said it yourself. Making pizza is an easy job. You could get any guy on the street to do it, remember? So, get off my back already.”
She gaped at him, shocked. ”Who do you think you are talking to like that? I am the boss, and communication is a part of the job. So why are you making this so difficult? I hired you strictly for your brother, but maybe this is not the job for you.”
They glared at one another for a long moment until Abel took off his apron and tossed it on the floor. ”Good luck with your employee search, Ms. Nunez.”
Furious, she watched Abel walk away, out of the kitchen and out the front door. She wanted to stop him and thought he did a decent job, but his attitude stunk.