As I took off, she yelled, “You want me to come, Tori? It’s late.”
“This island is secure. I’m good. Don’t wait up.” I rolled my eyes again.
I loved Treesha like a sister—lately, more like a child—but I needed regular breaks, too. The flip side to it was her fragile sobriety. I didn’t fully understand her triggers but knew they existed, per the expensive ass therapist I’d been paying for her.
I hated this headspace I’d been in. Coming to Indonesia was supposed to be the best location for peace of mind. Emptying my mind to focus on this fight had been the priority. Instead, I’d been feeling cagey, not wanting to roam around alone. The island gave me claustrophobic vibes. And I was hungry; had been for hours, thanks to staying awake past my bedtime. Meditation down the shoreline would cure my foul mood.
An annoyed human.
Me.
Chapter Two
“Hopefully the backend is user-friendly as well,” I noted. “At least, for us to explore so we can decide on it.”
“Yes. Because that last program from Syntax was hell to play with.”
“Yeah,” I sighed, eyes straining at the screen of my laptop. “Simplicity is our friend.”
“This is a great idea, by the way,” the head of technology commented. “When I worked at RBI, I pushed for employee approval measures, but they viewed it as an expense without profit. As you obviously know, that’s simply not true.”
RBI owned Burger King, Popeyes, and other restaurants. Our marketing team had finessed Tim, the head of technology for B-Way Burger, from the competition with a package he couldn’t refuse. The guy was innovative with endless knowledge. I’d pitched the idea of employee satisfaction to the board yesterday. It was met with a mediocre unanimous approval. Last night, which was morning Eastern Standard Time, I contacted Tim to set up a time to chat. Here we were, twenty-four hours later and he’d had three potential app developers’ programs for me to test out. Once selected, the app would be used by all restaurant-level employees to give us feedback on their experience.
“It isn’t. Consumers love predictability, and that can simply be seeing familiar faces. Retention happens when employees are adequately paid and overall satisfied.”
“It’s what Starbucks has done, and it’s been proven to be profitable, especially with an intimate product such as your regular morning java…”
My attention fled to the back of the restaurant, near the kitchen.”
“You okay, dude?” Tim asked, watching me via a company’s videotelephony application.
“I better be.” My eyes dashed all around. “Let me hit you back.”
“Okay, man. Be safe—and use those guns if need be.” He disconnected after that.
I was too preoccupied to reply in humor. Suspiciously, I wandered into the kitchen. At nearly midnight, I couldn’t think of who’d be in this building. The supervisor gave me explicit shutdown instructions. Was he back?
Pushing through the flap door, my gaze swept the dimly lit commercial kitchen. I saw nothing, but distinct sounds of chewing drew my attention and steps to the right, towards the refrigerator. She didn’t even hear me coming against the sound of her unraveling parchment paper to ravish another piece of cheese.
“Oh, my,” I murmured. “I’ve never seen a rodent of your size before. You must be exclusive to this region.”
Before I could finish my last sentence, Tori’s full body was in the air as she yelped. The cheese had fallen to the floor, cubes rolling underneath the counters. As she grabbed her chest and struggled to chew the food in her mouth, I stood with my hand on either side of my waist, waiting.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, struggling to catch her breath.
My eyes rolled around in their sockets as I considered my answer. I didn’t want to be rude.
“Working. Now, I’m seeing if I had an intruder.”
“An intruder? Why are you in the restaurant at this time of the night?”
My head swung back. “I’ll let you answer first.”
Tori’s eyes rolled slightly before she caught herself. “I was out for a walk and got hungry.”
“At this hour? Aren’t you way off your training schedule?”
“It’s the same hour you claim to be working in.” Tori’s eyes narrowed and she rested all her weight on one hip. “What’re you working on?” Her tone was laced with suspicion.
“I work around the clock, KaTori—” This time, my eyes rolled at that unexpected reference.
I hadn’t spoken that name in years before seeing her a few weeks ago at the restaurant. It damn sure wasn’t a fondness I’d once known. Tori was her professional moniker and the only one I’d use ever again.
She cleared her throat, markedly just as uncomfortable as I felt. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I had calls set up with my team.”
“What team? There are more of you than what you brought out here on my dime?”
Snorting, I brushed the tip of my nose with my thumb. “Royal Foods.” Her chin dipped, claiming confusion. “The owner of B-Way Burger?”
Her lashes clapped, recognizing the name, possibly recalling my professional lineage. “I forgot.”
My forehead stretched. “Forgot what?”
She shook her head. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
Tori was lying her ass off, but I didn’t wish to argue about it. “I’m a partner and have responsibilities to the company. That part of my life never gets cut off. Then—speaking of who I brought out here on your dime—Keyonna listened to our conversation yesterday as she transcribed it and believes our entire exchange is surface. There are no reveals. Nothing you gave me hasn’t been shared before.”
“So?”
“So, I’m not doing my job.” I found myself scratching the back of my head. “I’m allowing our past to interfere with the work I’m trying to do here.”
“That’s not my fault,” Tori claimed with sass.
I gave her a pointed stare before turning for one of the freezers where I’d transferred a few bottles of Corona from the bar earlier.
“Can you have that beer?” she asked when I pulled one out.
I snapped the lid off with a bottle opener. “Sure can.” Bringing the cold bottle to my lips, I took a generous quaff. “All on your dime.”
Then I turned for the wood brick oven, hoping my pizza hadn’t overcooked. Using the wooden peel, I captured the pie and pulled it out, sliding it onto a waiting platter. I sectioned it with a cutter, then gathered it along with my beer and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To eat and work some more.”
“You’re going to eat all of that alone? I paid for that!”
I stopped to pay her a glance. “I’ll share a slice if you’re open to sharing more about yourself. The real you outside of the ring and off-camera.”
I watched her chew her lips, her eyes swinging back and forth below. “And a slice of pizza. I paid for it.”
Unable to help myself, I shook my head. “It’s my favorite pizza, and only dinner. I had calls earlier I couldn’t miss—”