Chapter 30
Lana
It’s like elephants are running through my head, and they are stomping on every nerve. It’s not good enough that I had to work this morning, now I have to work tonight as well. Last night, my dick-ass boss sent me a message that I had to work tonight. I would have turned it down, but, yeah, money.
“Take your fucking break, sweetheart, I’ll time it.” My boss addresses me like I’m literal scum. I go to the break room and inhale a sandwich. I check my messages and see one from him.
Quit. Or I’ll make you.
His message may be short, but it’s not sweet.
I need the money, M. I can’t quit this job.
In a couple of seconds, I get a reply back.
That asshole is abusive and has assaulted you many times by smacking your ass and making derogatory comments.
How the fuck do you know that?
I have eyes everywhere. You have until the start of your next shift to quit.
Fuck you.
You are going to wish you hadn’t said that.
Fuck me sideways, was that smart? It was necessary. I finish my short break and head back to the diner to serve people who are clearly in the holiday spirit.
“Your favorite customer is here. Go and serve him.” My boss points his head toward Marco. I feign a smile and walk up to my ‘favorite’ customer. This time, he’s alone and looking agitated. I wonder why he keeps coming back. There’s nothing special about this fucking diner.
“Hello, Marco, what can I get you?” Two eggs over easy with…
“Sausage and a cup of coffee.” I know his order by heart.
“Coming right up.” I go to the kitchen, place the order, and bring it out to him a couple of minutes later.
“So, where’s your—” Before I can ask my question, all my hairs stand on edge because I feel it. I feel him. His presence draws everyone's attention. He exudes confidence.
“What were you saying?” Marco asks me as he eats his breakfast. I shake my head at him and excuse myself to go to M’s table. My pen is tapping furiously against my pad.
“What do you want?” My anger can’t be contained. He grabs the menu and feigns interest.
“I think I’ll have a coffee, black with no sugar or milk, and a big portion of scrambled eggs.” He is charming, I’ll give him that. It’s like he doesn’t even need to try. M has his million-dollar smile on, and his eyes are twinkling.
“Do you want that to go or be thrown onto your lap?” I click my tongue against my teeth. His dazzling smile doesn’t falter.
“On a plate, if that’s possible.” Behind my pad, I give him a middle finger, and he laughs at that. He looks so carefree right now—but I know better. He is fucking dangerous. I leave him be and place his order. I carry him a plate of eggs and coffee.
“Enjoy.” He takes a bite of the eggs and moans a little bit. I’m ashamed to admit that the sound turns me on.
“So, did you hand in your notice already?” I shake my head rapidly at his question because he just threw a curveball at me.
“No. Can you please finish your breakfast quickly?”
“Digestion of food is important. I’ll eat this slowly.” Fucking asshole.
“Lana!” I hear someone say, and I see that it’s Marco.
“I’m sorry, I have to go to a customer who’s calling me.”
“Who?” I point toward Marco, and M looks at him. Once he does that, he stays quiet and doesn’t say anything. Why is his silence even more deadly than a thousand spoken words from him?
“What is it?” I ask him. M averts his attention to his eggs and tells me it’s nothing. I let him be and go to Marco. He seems even more nervous now than when I left him about twenty minutes ago. Could it be because of his daughter?
“How can I help you, Marco?”
“Check, please.” I hand him the check, he pays, and leaves me a tip.
“I’ll come back again, Lana Osmanovic.” He is out the door, and my whole world is tilted on its axis.
The air thins in my lungs, and the diner noise falls away, replaced by the pulse hammering in my ears.
He used my real family name, my dad’s family name, and I feel a cold creeping up on me—the name I’d buried under smiles and quiet routines.
For a heartbeat, I forget how to breathe.
The hiss of the coffee machine, the scrape of a spoon, the pattern of footsteps outside—every sound locks into place, too clear, too loud.
My pulse steadies, not from calm, but from instinct.
The part of me I’d spent years suffocating lifts its head, wide awake.
I left that old life behind. I left those old habits behind.
Suddenly, I feel two strong hands grabbing me by the shoulders, and I recognize his smell immediately—a rich woodsy smell with a twinge of sweetness to it. I snap out of my trance and snap back in. I turn to M and plaster on a smile.
“Can I help you?”
“What was that?” he asks me. I slowly remove his hands from my shoulders and take a step back.
“It was a customer telling me his wife got gravely ill, and I just thought back to my mom. Kind of a flashback.” M studies my face and believes me because he nods at me with a lopsided smile.
“I’m so sorry, Lana. Listen, we’ll talk about this tonight because I really have to go.”
“I’m working tonight!” I call out to him as he leaves the diner.
I don’t think that anything I say right now will change M’s mind.
After a couple more hours, I take my second and last break of the day.
Right as I’m drinking a cup of coffee, Emin walks in.
He sits down with a cup of coffee himself and beams.
“I finally have the hen!” He is so happy, which makes me happy. I hug him and sit back down.
“You know what, since you have been so busy, I’ll go and get your hen.” Emin stops his cup midway to his mouth.
“Why?”
“Because the rooster may notice another man coming, and the hen might be more comfortable with a woman. He already knows you are coming, by the way. The hen confirmed it to me face to face.” I’m done, and we both burst out laughing.
Emin throws his hands in the air and gives me the address of the chicken farm.
“Thank you. When can I pick them up?” I ask him.
“I don’t know, the owner is being a bit difficult about when to hand them over. I’ll let you know.”
Emin nods approvingly and goes out there to start his shift. Now I only need to make it through this shift and the evening shift.