Back in the dining room, I collected a pair of wineglasses and a bottle from an empty table when someone behind me said my name—my actual name.
“Cade?”
I turned to find one of my buddies, Miller, and a petite brunette I didn’t recognize sitting at the table behind me. Girlfriend, maybe? I shifted the wineglasses and bottle to the same hand so I could shake Miller’s.
“Hey, man. This is Carol,” he introduced.
I nodded my hello. Miller was a nice guy. My height, with short hair and glasses, he looked the part of an attorney-at-law already.
I’d left school abruptly. Relearning how to chew food takes up a lot of time. Other than the initial check-ins via text, and one or two pop-ins at the hospital, I hadn’t heard much from my college friends. They didn’t exactly ditch me. We just didn’t have much in common since I wasn’t crashing campus parties any longer.
“I’ve been wondering how you were. Spotted you here the other day, but you ducked into the back.”
Yeah. I saw him that day too but wanted to avoid an awkward exchange. Like this one. He stood from the table and looked me in the eye, which made it even more awkward.
“How are you really?” he asked, his voice low. His girlfriend Carol was scrolling through her phone, giving us privacy.
I couldn’t answer that with a nod, so I attempted to speak.
“G-good.” I tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace. “You?”
“We, uh, we’re doing well.” He palmed the back of his neck like he was nervous. Which made the hair on the back of my own neck stand on end. Miller wasn’t the most direct of our friends, and I could tell something weighed on his conscience. We’d unanimously nominated Miller as the pro-bono guy for our future law firm. His personality would be perfect for those sorts of cases.
“We, uh”—he cleared his throat—“we’re going ahead with our plans for the building downtown.”
The dining room canted to one side.
“Brian secured a lease,” Miller said to his shoes. “We had to. The owner was about to put our office up for lease. He wasn’t going to wait forever. We couldn’t risk it going to another lawyer. Or worse. An accountant.” He was poking fun at my dad, his laugh an attempt at smoothing it over. I didn’t feel like laughing. Puking, maybe.
Our office. The one next to a boutique with jewelry in the window and on the other side, a sushi restaurant. Claire Street. I’d found that location. Me. A mix of anger and shock washed through my bloodstream.
It wasn’t Miller’s fault. He’d taken a bullet for the guys by actually telling me to my face. Despite him merely being the messenger, I shot daggers from my eyes. They’d moved on. Without me. All of them.
Even though I knew being a lawyer wasn’t in my future, that stung.
“Sorry, man. You didn’t come back to school. We’re graduating in June. Brian’s application to law school was already accepted.” He shrugged like he didn’t know what else to say. I could relate. I didn’t know what to say either, even if I could have fucking said it.
“Cade. Table fifteen!” Chet, the floor manager, called out. Taking orders from a guy in pleated pants was humiliating, and the perfect topper to this shitty conversation. Miller, in his suit and tie, was having a two-hundred-dollar dinner with his girlfriend, while I wore a dirty apron.
“Cade!”
I lifted my chin at Chet to let him know I heard him. He tapped his watch to remind me I was on the clock. The prick.
“I’ll let you work,” Miller said, his smile pained at the edges. I would have felt sorry for him if I wasn’t so busy feeling sorry for myself.
“Nice to meet you,” Carol chimed in as Miller retook his seat. I gave her a tight smile before stalking to the kitchen.
I trashed the wine bottle and placed the glasses in the dish rack, my mind a million miles away. The office building on Claire had been a symbol of my future. Of a life I no longer lived. I’d been more excited than anyone. I’d even drawn up a floor plan with our designated office spaces. It was over. It was really over.
Blindly, I started out of the kitchen to clear table fifteen when the line cook—who had no idea how awful his timing was—ran me down again.
“What’s the matter, Dopey?” Hamilton chided. “You look like you’re about to cry. Might have to start calling you Weepy.”
Laughter rippled down the line.
“What do you have to say about that?” he called out, earning a few more chuckles interspersed with clanging utensils. He cupped his ear and waited while I looked on with rage that had moved from simmering to full boil in seconds.
I sized him up, not for the first time, but this was the first time I’d done it with the intent to beat his ass. He was taller than me, with a protruding gut, red beard, and no hair on top of his head. I could take him.
Hamilton sneered. “Aww. I hurt his feewings.”
That’s it. I untied my apron and slipped it from my head. Devlin wasn’t going to like this.
“Oh, Chatterbox is angwy,” Hamilton goaded. “Don’t do anything stup—”
I cut off his words with one balled fist, the satisfying crunching sound going a long way to making me feel better. Blood spurted from his nose and onto the flat-top grill where more than one steak sizzled. The salad guy backed into the counter when I faced him, the tilt of my head inviting him to be next.
He held up his hands in surrender.
Turned out a swearing, bleeding Hamilton made a lot of noise, but he didn’t raise a hand to me. Probably the fact he was on probation had something to do with it. He held his palm over his gushing nose and yelled for someone to replace the ruined steaks.
I shook out my hand. Son of a bitch, that hurt. As I was flexing my fingers, I spotted someone approaching from behind me. I turned, my fist raised, stopping short when I saw my boss-slash-half-brother Devlin.
It spoke to how far we’d come that I didn’t take a swing at him.
Hamilton, the tattler, pointed at me and told Devlin I’d hit him. He claimed it was unprovoked and the salad guy agreed. He’d suddenly grown brave now that the boss was in the kitchen. Asshole.
“Everybody calm down. Get back to work.” Devlin, an authority in a dark suit, was at least ten years Hamilton’s junior and Hamilton, the bonehead, decided to put on a show for the rest of the cooks behind the line.
“Kiss my ass, Calvary. You were the one who hired this violent mute.” Hamilton yanked his apron off and wiped it across his bloody face, leering at me over Devlin’s shoulder.
Devlin was the picture of calm. He held out one palm like he was using the Force and spoke evenly. “I need you back there tonight, man.”
“Maybe I’ll come back after I visit the ER.” A smile crested Hamilton’s stupid mouth. “Or maybe I’ll sue Oak and Sage. Grab up some workers’ comp.”
“And maybe I’ll call the cops and let them know you have weed in your locker.” Devlin smiled.
Hamilton froze.
“Second thought, take the rest of the night off. We’ll handle it without you.”
“But—”
“Goodnight.” Devlin’s voice was steel. Hamilton, still bleeding, which was satisfying, stomped through the kitchen and burst out the back door. I smiled, smug, until my brother turned on me. “Get out of my kitchen.”