Chapter Five #3
Nico set the empty tray on the shelf and kept his hands to himself.
My gaze dropped to his mouth.
His voice lowered. “Nella, we don’t have time.”
“I hate when you’re responsible.”
“I’m learning to hate it too.”
My fingers brushed the scarf at my neck. His eyes followed the movement, and the air between us tightened.
The mark was mostly hidden. Not from shame. From customers, family, and the fact that I didn’t need someone asking whether the shark drink came with matching dental work.
Nico didn’t touch it.
That made the heat worse.
“When this is over,” he said, “and you tell me yes, I want my mouth on every place I’ve spent all day not touching.”
Heat went through me so fast I had to lock my knees.
I grabbed the deposit envelopes from the drawer and pushed them against his chest. “Carry these before I make a bad staffing decision.”
His fingers closed over the envelopes. “That wasn’t a no.”
“That was a you’re still on the clock.”
His smile was slow, sharp at the edge, and gone before anyone else could see it. “Yes, boss.”
I walked back into the rush with my face hot and my ability to form policy severely damaged.
By nine, the blue margarita had sold through the first batch mix, the second batch mix, and half the emergency batch I hadn’t told Shay existed because bartenders deserved occasional miracles.
The cannoli cups had become a thing. Taryn’s travel-account repost had brought in two tables who specifically asked for “the shark drink with the black rim,” which made me want to both hug the internet and throw it into the sea.
The numbers climbed.
These were not theoretical numbers or please-let-this-work numbers.
They were real ones.
Cash in the drawer. Card batches closed clean in blocks. Food sales running high because dessert made people add appetizers like logic had left them unsupervised. Drink sales strong enough that Shay looked at the ticket line and said, “I’m concerned for America and pleased for us.”
At ten fifteen, Mari leaned both hands on the pass. “We’re out of filled cups.”
I glanced at the dry shells. “How much cream?”
“Enough for twelve.”
“Then twelve. Announce final drop.”
Taryn heard it from the front and lifted both hands. “Final cannoli drop in ten minutes. If anyone cries, I’m offering napkins and no promises.”
A woman near the rail called, “Can I reserve four?”
“You can order four when they exist,” I called back. “This is dessert, not real estate.”
Nico coughed once into his fist.
I didn’t look at him because I was busy being professional.
At ten forty, the final cannoli cups went out. At ten fifty-two, the last shark margarita of the night hit the bar in front of a woman wearing a sun hat the size of a patio umbrella.
She took one sip and sighed. “This tastes like trouble.”
I leaned both palms on the bar. “That’s the brand.”
By midnight, we closed to applause from one table that had been over-served by vacation itself.
By twelve twenty, Shay was counting her drawer with a towel over her shoulder, Taryn was saving the social posts into a folder, Dusty was sweeping under stools while singing under his breath, and Mari was wrapping the last cold container with enough force to scare bacteria.
I stood at the back counter with the totals.
The paper didn’t care about feelings. Good. I trusted paper more than men who described seizure clauses as remedies.
Card batches. Cash. Food totals. Drink totals. Payment note. Deposit bag. Receipts.
The numbers were bigger than last night.
Bigger than anything I’d let myself hope for.
Nico stood beside me, close enough that his sleeve brushed my arm and far enough that the totals stayed under my hand.
“This is enough to prove the principal path,” he said.
I swallowed. “Say that in human.”
“It proves you can pay the real debt.”
“And the fake one?”
His jaw tightened. “That’s what Sal will try to use.”
I set the top sheet down and smoothed it once. “Then he can try with my receipts in his teeth.”
Shay walked over with her drawer bag. “Boss.”
I looked up.
She, Taryn, Dusty, and Mari had stopped near the pass. None of them asked the question out loud. They didn’t know the whole of it. They didn’t know sharks and sex and Sal’s voice on the phone. But they knew money pressure. They knew when a night mattered.
“We moved the emergency batch,” Shay said.
“And nobody stopped asking for the black-rim drink,” Taryn added.
Mari nodded. “The kitchen didn’t die.”
Dusty lifted the broom slightly. “The floor and I are negotiating peace.”
My throat tightened.
I picked up the deposit bag because paper didn’t make emotional faces at me. “Everybody go home before I become generous and pay overtime in feelings.”
Shay smiled. “Terrible currency.”
“It really is,” I said.
They left in pieces, the way closing staff always did, with tired jokes, squeaking shoes, and somebody forgetting sunglasses on the end of the bar. The side door locked behind Mari last.
The bar wasn’t quiet. The neon hummed. The cooler clicked. Outside, the boardwalk still held late footsteps, music two doors down, and the soft rush of people not knowing my whole life had just been counted in receipts.
My phone buzzed.
Nico looked at it before I touched it.
SAL TORRETTI:
Profitable night. Profitable asset. Packet or consequences.
A second message came in before either of us spoke.
SAL TORRETTI:
I’m in your service alley. Send Nico outside. Alone.
Cold moved over my skin.
Nico took the phone from the counter.
“No,” I said.
He didn’t answer.
That was worse.
I grabbed the receipts folder and shoved it against his chest hard enough that paper edges bent. “No.”
“Nella, listen to me.”
“Don’t you dare use that voice.”
“I need to end this.”
“You need to stop confusing ending something with shutting me out.”
His hand closed over the folder. “If I bring you into this, he’ll use you.”
“He’s already using me. He’s using my debt, my bar, my numbers, and your feelings about me, which I didn’t authorize but apparently have to manage.”
His mouth moved like he almost smiled and couldn’t.
I stepped closer. “I saved the bar in public tonight. My staff did their jobs. My customers paid. My receipts are right there. You don’t get to take the proof I earned and turn the last part into a private man fight.”
“This isn’t a fight.”
“Then why is your uncle waiting in my alley like a bad decision with parking?”
His eyes sharpened.
Outside, an engine idled beyond the service door, low and steady under the distant boardwalk music.
Nico looked toward the back hall.
I saw him reach for the old habit: move first, keep me back, take the damage where I couldn’t see it.
I picked up the deposit bag, my keys, and the top folder of receipts.
“Nella, stay inside.”
I laughed once. “That sounded like you forgot the last four days.”
His gaze snapped back to mine.
I moved around the counter and pointed toward the side door. “You want to face Sal with proof? Great. You want to tell him no? Beautiful. You want to burn down your old life? I’ll bring marshmallows after the debt is handled. But you don’t leave me behind in my own crisis.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“So are you.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No. You ask permission before you use teeth.”
His breath changed.
I stepped into his space and lowered my voice. “You stood beside me tonight. I’m standing beside you now. Partnership. Remember? It’s that thing where nobody gets to be noble and stupid alone.”
For one second, Nico looked like he might argue.
Then the engine outside revved once and settled.
Nico crossed toward the service door.
I followed.
He reached for the knob.
I locked my fingers around the receipts and stepped into the alley before Nico could close the door.