Chapter 11
Thursday Evening
Nico watched Carole leave the restaurant Thursday night, his antennae twitching. She hadn’t scowled at him once all evening. She’d even told him he was doing a good job at one point. Now, as she walked out the door, she smiled. She had a bounce in her step. As if she’d had a very good evening.
She probably had. The restaurant had been very busy, which meant she’d gotten a good tip share. They’d been on a wait list until thirty minutes before they’d closed. That was great for business, but one server had called in sick, so everyone else had been run ragged, waiting on extra tables. Even Carole had been forced to wait on a few tables.
Carole had left smiling, but the rest of the servers and bussers were slumped in chairs or leaning against the wall at the bar, groaning about how hard they’d worked.
If the servers and Carole got dinner breaks, they’d had to eat standing up in between delivering orders.
Now, most of the servers and bussers were at the bar, complaining about how hard they’d worked. Nico sympathized -- just like everyone else, he’d been moving constantly for more than five hours.
As he headed toward the bar to join the group, his gaze touched on Andra and Ruth, standing together off to the side. Instead of slumping against the bar, they were smiling. Gesturing. As Nico watched them talk, their heads close together, he glanced at the rest of the servers and bussers. They all looked like they barely had enough energy to drag themselves home.
Andra and Ruth had worked as hard as everyone else. And watching them now, bubbly instead of exhausted, a knot of foreboding twisted in his gut.
Adding their smiles to Carole’s gave him a bad feeling about the meal count tonight.
But he couldn’t seek out Julia yet. He had to make nice with his co-workers until they all left the restaurant.
“Hey, Nico,” Brady the bartender called. “You gonna join us?”
“I am,” Nico answered, forcing a tired smile. “Can I have a cola, please?”
Brady frowned. “No beer? Wine?”
“No, thanks. I’ll stick to the soda.”
Brady nodded slowly. “Got it.” He scooped ice into a glass and filled it with fizzy cola. “Here you go,” he said, reaching across the bar to hand Nico the drink. “I have some friends who’re in recovery,” he said in a low voice. “I get it. I won’t offer you alcohol again.”
“Thanks, Brady. I appreciate it,” Nico said, equally quietly. Thank God the bartender had jumped to that conclusion. Nico never drank while he was working, but having the bartender think he was an alcoholic was the perfect excuse for avoiding alcohol.
Brady continued to study him. “You play ball in college?” he asked after a long moment.
Nico froze for a long moment, the glass half-way to his mouth. Then he set it down. “Yeah, I did. How did you know?”
“You look like a ball player.” He smiled. “I was a safety at college. I bet you were a quarterback.”
“I was, as a matter of fact. At a small college you probably never heard of.” Annapolis wasn’t a small college, and Brady would have heard of it. But Nico didn’t want to break cover.
Brady leaned closer. “You try to get on a pro team?”
“Nope.” Nico shook his head. “I had other plans. And my chances of making it as a pro? Slim to none. How about you?”
Brady grimaced. “I was drafted by Chicago. Wrecked my knee in the first season, and that was it for my pro career.”
“Sorry to hear that. Bad break,” Nico said.
Brady shrugged. “Way it goes. At least I got a signing bonus out of it.”
“And bragging rights,” Nico said. “Most guys eat that shit up.”
Brady smiled. “Yeah, they do.”
Someone asked for a drink, and Brady went back to work. Sipping his cola, Nico made desultory small talk with the quieter-than-usual servers and bussers until they finished their drinks and dragged themselves out the door.
Nico slipped into the restroom, where he could hide until everyone had left. When he hadn’t heard any voices for ten minutes, he emerged from the restroom. Found Julia in her office.