Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
HECTOR
Atlas rejected my idea of closing the diner for the day, using the reasoning that Sundays were our busiest day.
Clay had come over early in the morning to ask Atlas some questions, and I thought he might want to take the rest of the day to recuperate after that, but he looked about ready to open the diner without me if I kept delaying.
I practically had to sprint down the stairs to chase after him. He started the morning prep for the dining area, and while my protective instincts were telling me I needed to keep my eyes on Atlas, he was having none of it. He shooed me into the kitchen to start my prep before the brunch rush came.
I moved through the process with practiced ease. I’d always found cooking enjoyable. What had started out as a necessity for survival turned into something I truly enjoyed.
The first thing I’d wanted to do after being released from prison was cook.
My parents had moved out of town sometime while I was incarcerated, not having bothered to visit me once during my time behind bars, but I hadn’t expected much from them.
They’d at least left the trailer we lived in behind, so I had a place to return to.
And once I’d cleaned up the stink of weed and cigarettes as best as I could, I’d spent the rest of the day cooking. There hadn’t been any dish I’d wanted to eat or even make, but it was the process that called to me. The idea that I could use these hands of mine to create something positive.
It was the reason why I thought of opening The Diner in the first place. That and the fact that the only place you could really sit down for a meal back then was the local bar, but even then, they never really specialized in food.
The bar had eventually closed, which made The Diner one of the oldest eateries in town.
It was something I was proud of. At one point, I hadn’t known if The Diner could even survive after the funds I’d been bribed with ran out, but somehow it all worked out.
Business had picked up, and now we had a full house more days than not.
Prep was a breeze since I could do it on autopilot after all these years. I just had to increase the portion size now to accommodate the increased customer base.
Cooking during the brunch rush, though? That was another story.
Orders were taking longer due to the sheer number of them.
Thankfully, our customers were patient and understanding most of the time, and they were willing to wait longer when served a free slice of pie.
Atlas was also a huge help and would come to assist when he could.
But that wasn’t fair to him, having to do two jobs at once.
I knew things couldn’t go on like this forever. Atlas had been pushing me to find another helper in the kitchen for a while. He was right, of course, but wanting to hire someone was easier said than done.
It seemed the townsfolk were more receptive to me now, but did they take to me kindly enough to want to work for me? That I wasn’t so sure about.
Those were all thoughts I could sort through later.
Even if managing the kitchen mostly alone during the busy times was wearing me down, I had things to focus on other than bringing a stranger in here.
Especially when someone out there had his eyes on Atlas.
What if the person we hired was working for this stalker?
These were thoughts I’d never tell Atlas.
He’d only blame himself, and that was the last thing I wanted.
He kept thinking of himself as a burden, but I didn’t think he understood that I liked taking care of him.
I liked having him rely on me. I would just have to keep proving my willingness to do things for him until he could accept it guilt-free.
The front door opened, and I immediately zoned in on the sound, only calming when I saw it was Becca. She immediately pulled Atlas into a bear hug, which I took to mean she’d heard about what happened yesterday.
Of course she did. The entire town probably had a late-night discussion over wine about this. I feared what crazy truths the rumor mills had spun from what had actually happened.
Sunday morning brunch descended on us like a planned ritual. The weather was nice outside, so our outdoor tables were completely full too. Becca had offered to take care of those, which I was thankful for.
Atlas was convinced the stalker would lie low today since Clay and the other officers were actively looking for him based on Atlas’ description. Still, I didn’t like the thought of Atlas being outside, out in the open, and where I couldn’t see him from the kitchen.
I focused on tickets, often making multiple orders at once. Atlas tried to add another ticket, but the ticket holder was filled to the brim. He placed the newest order face down on the service window instead and made his way into the kitchen to help me.
With him here, I could focus on cooking the actual food, while he brought me ingredients and plated everything. We managed to take care of half the orders before Atlas returned out front to help Becca.
He was doing more than he was getting paid for, which was why I’d wanted to raise his salary last month, but he’d refused, saying he’d rather I hire someone else. Atlas was always doing things that were beyond my expectations.
Becca’s booming shout from the front had me looking through the service window. It wasn’t like her to get angry enough with a customer to yell this loudly. Everyone was staring her way.
Atlas was by her side with fists clenched and tense shoulders. He looked pissed, and there wasn’t much that made him mad—the stalker situation aside.
I turned off the burner to head out front to see what was going on. As soon as I crossed the swinging door, I heard chatting. I paused in the corner right outside the door, so I was blocked from seeing the dining area.
“Well, it’s true. There was a gun there. I mean, can we even be surprised at this point? He did assault an officer, after all. And the rumors before that never shone him in any good light either.”
The male voice wasn’t one I recognized. Neither were the others that quickly agreed with this statement.
“It wasn’t even a real gun. And it had nothing to do with Hector,” Becca argued.
“Even still. It doesn’t change the fact that nothing good comes with associating yourself with him. Look at the situation poor Atlas is in now,” the same voice from earlier said.
“This had nothing to do with Hector. If anything, he’s helping me.” I could hear the strain in Atlas’ voice.
“Poor child. He’s got you brainwashed, just like he did Angelina. That poor girl had to leave town to escape from him.”
My fingers clenched. I should be used to this already. The townsfolk of Kither Springs never had anything good to say about me before, so why should it be different now?
Yet it didn’t sting any less. I’d gotten hopeful. Seeing people regularly visit my diner foolishly had me hoping they’d accepted me as well.
I could hear Atlas trying to argue, but it was clear his words were falling on deaf ears. I turned the corner, ready to settle this matter, even if I had to become their rumors and chase them out with fear.
The loud bang of hands on a table quieted the entire room. “I’ve had just about enough of this!” a woman’s voice sounded.
Entering the dining area, I could see Mae standing.
Her gray-blonde twin braids bounced with the force of the action.
She turned her head toward another group of diners and shot daggers their way.
I assumed they were the ones who were shit-talking me.
They were a group of older faces I’d seen around town, but I hadn’t interacted much with them otherwise.
“You should be ashamed of yourselves. Coming into a man’s place of work and saying all those terrible things when he isn’t even here to defend himself. I know two-year-olds with more manners,” Mae said, filling each of her words with contempt.
Mae was the town’s biggest gossip, but she wasn’t the type of person to spread rumors that would hurt anyone.
I wasn’t saying there were good types of gossip, but she at least had morals.
Still, I was surprised to see her standing up for me.
She was a regular at the diner, but the two of us didn’t really have a close relationship.
“That’s right. You should be ashamed. Hector is a good man. He’s done more to help the people of Kither Springs than you lot have combined.” This time, it was Russell Monroe who stood up to yell at the table of offenders.
He was sitting with his family. His granddaughter, Lana, was holding a fussy Junior, and Sam was sitting across from them.
In the table behind them, Ryker was sitting right behind Sam. Ryan, Jones, Clay, Dan, Jordan, and Wren. All of them were glaring while in a half-standing position, as if they were ready to strike if needed.
“Hector is a good man. The very best, in fact,” Atlas said with his arms crossed. “And if you lot are too dull to get that into your head, then you have no business being here. In fact, I’m refusing you service. Get out.”
“Who do you think you are? You can’t do that!”
“And yet I am. In fact, all four of you are officially blacklisted. You’re not welcome here.”
“Why you—”
“Didn’t you hear what he said?” I came up beside Atlas. He was surprised to see me, and quickly took my hand in his. I turned back to the group of four. “Get out.”
“Or what? Are you going to remove me by force? Prove the rumors right about how violent you are?”
“You—” Atlas looked about ready to jump at the man. I managed to stop him before he could and wrapped an arm around his middle.
“Is there a problem here?” Clay came up behind the man. His tone left no room for bullshit. Neither did the very imposing wall of bodies his friends made behind him. “I believe the owner of this establishment asked you to leave his private property. Do I need to escort you out?”
The man who’d been speaking the entire time, the boldest one out of the group, looked like he was about to blow from anger. His three companions had been quiet this entire time, their heads all hung and eyes staring at the plate in front of them. “Let’s just go,” one of them whispered.
“Why should we? We have every right to be here. They can’t just kick us out. I’m sure the others agree—”
His words cut off when he looked around the diner and realized pretty much every single person inside the diner was glaring at them.
“Just leave!” someone from the crowd shouted. That seemed to have opened the floodgates, and others soon joined in, yelling at them to get out.
The three companions were quick to get to their feet and made their escape. The man who’d seemed to have started all this was much slower. He was red in the face and pointed a shaking finger at the room before landing on me. “You’re going to regret this.”
Before I could say anything, Atlas stepped in front of me. “And you’re never going to eat the best food in town ever again,” he said smugly. “Now get the hell out!”
The man gritted his teeth, but finally followed his friends out of my diner. Applause and cheers followed his walkout.
“Good riddance,” Becca said and dusted her hands. “We should salt the door so no more evil enters. That’s a thing, right? Who cares? I’m doing it anyway.” She scurried off into the kitchen, presumably to find salt.
Mae stood and came to pat me on the shoulder. “We should bring back public shaming more often,” she said with a wink before returning to her seat.
Russell came up next. “Don’t believe a word they said. They’re idiots.”
Then, what seemed like every single person in this room came up to shake my hand or gave me a warm pat on the shoulder while giving me words of reassurance.
That they were on my side, that they believed in me and not the rumors, and how much they loved the food here, and please don’t kick them out too—that was said teasingly to Atlas.
People who I thought never liked me or feared me were coming up to give me words of encouragement. They were…accepting me.
Atlas had once told me I’d built a community here at The Diner. I believed I’d created a place where people could congregate and do their own thing. I didn’t think I was part of it.
But with each person coming up to chat, and our friends by our sides, hyping me up and defending me, I realized that somewhere along the way of building this community, I had become a part of it too.