Chapter Four #4
By ten, the event had done exactly what she needed it to do. Not enough to end the debt. Not enough to make Uncle Sal honest. But enough that the room had proof. Tables full. Orders stacked. Staff moving. Customers taking pictures with printed specials and bright drinks. Card batches climbing.
Bite Me wasn’t dying.
Uncle Sal was going to hate that.
At eleven thirty-eight, the final patio table paid. At midnight, Shay finished the drawer with one hand on her lower back and murder in her eyes for anyone who ordered another blended drink before sunrise. Taryn took the last flyer from the rail and hugged it against her chest like a shield.
Dusty carried a bus tub toward the dish area. “I feel like tonight had weight.”
Mari wiped the pass. “If you drop that tub, you’ll have weight on your head.”
“I’m grounded by consequences,” Dusty said.
Nella leaned against the bar for the first time in hours.
Her red halter was still tied perfectly at her neck, but the scarf in her ponytail had slipped again, and sauce marked the edge of her apron.
She looked tired, flushed, and fierce enough to take on my whole family with a cash drawer and a garnish pick.
“Go home,” she told the staff. “Shay, stop counting. Taryn, leave the flyers. Dusty, if that tub is still in your hands in thirty seconds, Mari gets legal custody of your future.”
Dusty moved faster. “My future supports workplace safety.”
Mari slung her bag over one shoulder and paused by Nella. “You want me to stay?”
Nella glanced at me, then back to Mari. “No. We’re counting money and not committing crimes.”
Mari fixed me with a stare. “If that changes, call me before the crimes.”
“I’ll respect the chain of command,” I said.
“You better.”
Shay passed behind her, already pulling her visor off. “For what it’s worth, boss, tonight was good.”
Nella’s expression softened. “It was.”
Taryn smiled. “It was really good.”
Nella took that in for one breath. Then she clapped her hands once. “Great. Nobody gets sentimental on the clock. Go sleep.”
The staff left in stages, voices fading through the side door and down the boardwalk. The place settled around us. Neon hummed. The floor smelled like citrus, tomato sauce, spilled sugar, and the hot metal edge of a room that had worked too hard.
Nella brought the cash drawer to the back counter. I pulled a stool around for her.
She considered it.
I held up both hands. “Furniture support. Not management.”
She sat. “Accepted.”
We counted with the phone between us.
I left my hands on my side of the counter unless she handed me a slip. Nella separated cash, card batches, order totals, and deposit notes with the same focus she’d used on the floor. I checked figures when she asked. I didn’t reach for papers she hadn’t handed me. I didn’t tell her what to do.
At twelve twenty-one, the numbers were good.
Nella stared at the total.
Her throat moved once. “This is good.”
“It really is.”
“It’s not enough.”
“No.”
“But it’s good.”
“It’s very good.”
She rubbed both hands over her face, then dropped them to the counter. “I hate that your uncle can make good news feel like a trap.”
“I hate that too.”
She held my gaze. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
My phone rang.
Neither of us moved.
Uncle Sal’s name filled the screen.
Nella straightened on the stool. “Speaker.”
I answered and set the phone down between us. “Sal.”
“Numbers.”
Nella picked up the top sheet. “Closed card batches matched to the reader. Cash count separated. Food sales were strong, drink sales were stronger, and the payment toward principal is marked on the deposit note.”
“Amounts,” Uncle Sal said.
“You’ll get the written totals in the morning packet,” she said. “Tonight, you get confirmation that the numbers match.”
“Nico.”
“She’s right,” I said. “The batches match. Cash is separated. The payment line is clear.”
Nella slid the top sheet closer to the phone. “And before you ask, no, I’m not giving you a guess I have to correct after the bank deposit posts.”
Uncle Sal went quiet long enough for the fan to click twice.
Then he said, “So the place can earn.”
“Yes,” Nella said. “That was the point.”
“No,” Uncle Sal said. “The point was leverage.”
Nella flattened her fingers on the counter beside the cash drawer.
I leaned toward the phone. “She made a strong payment case tonight.”
“She made an asset case tonight.”
“She can pay principal.”
“I didn’t ask what she can do. I asked what the contract allows.”
Nella closed her hand around the edge of the cash drawer.
Uncle Sal continued. “By noon, I want the default packet with your signature on it: full acceleration, penalties, collateral review, and the lease language. If you don’t send it, don’t come back to Jersey expecting my protection.”
Nella met my eyes across the counter.
I didn’t look away.
“Do you understand me?” Uncle Sal asked.
“I understand,” I said.
“Good. Noon.”
The call ended.
My phone screen went black.
Across the counter, Nella stood with tomato sauce on her apron and the open cash drawer between us. Uncle Sal wanted my signature by noon.
I looked at the money she’d earned, then at the woman he wanted me to break.
By noon, I either signed away Nella’s bar, or I stopped being the family’s collector.