Page 72 of Straightened Out

“What are you doing in my kitchen?” she sneers, wiping her hands on her apron.

“It’s time you and I have a conversation.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Well, that’s too bad, because I have an awful lot I want to share with you.” I look at the young woman chopping tomatoes, and point to the work station in front of Flora. “Can you take over for her?”

That simple question sets Flora off and she slams her rolling pin down on the butcher block counter. She spews a bunch of Spanish expletives as she rips off her apron and tosses it next to her rolling pin.

Ah, so this is where Violet gets her temper from.

Good to know.

“You don’t get to come into my restaurant and order my staff around,” she spats, grabbing me by the front of my shirt. “You’re nothing but a maton.”

“A what?”

“Get out of my kitchen!”

“I’m not going anywhere until you listen to what I have to say, Flora, and I didn’t order anyone around, I simply asked if she could takeover for you.”

She studies me for a moment before releasing my shirt. With a huff and more cursing, she leads me out of the kitchen, through the back door that leads to the alleyway where the dumpsters are. A wonderful place to tell her what a piece of trash I think she is.

“You have ten seconds.”

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem with me is, but when that hate reaches your daughter it becomes a problem for me.”

“Don’t you talk to me about my daughter,” she sneers. “If you gave a damn about any of my children, you’d leave them alone. Your uncle lured my son with the mighty dollar and you’re trying to lure my daughter with your mother’s diamonds and empty promises. Well, let me tell you something, boy, Violet is all talk. She won’t last in that lifestyle.”

I narrow my eyes on her. She isn’t bitter, she’s fucking crazy.

“Hold it,” I say, taking another step closer to her. “You want to preach to me about giving a damn about Joaquin and Violet, when you wrote off your only son and like to use your hands on the only child you got left?”

“You can judge me all you want, but I know my children. Joaquin will fall on the sword for you and your uncle, but Violet—she’s a wildcard.”

“I don’t even know what the fuck that means.”

“It means she is defenseless against your world. People are going to get wind of her, they’re going to use her and try to break her.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Your daughter is stronger than you think. She’s loyal and—”

“She’s a mess!”

Anger fills me as I’m engulfed with the dire need to protect and defend. Clenching my jaw, I fix her with a glare and close the distance between us.

“The only mess I see is standing in front of me,” I grind out. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll happily take Violet off your hands.” I pause for a beat, swiping a hand over my face. The urge to tell her that the daughter she calls a mess is the only reason she’s got a fucking restaurant eats at me. But that ain’t my story to tell.

“Your arrogance is going to bite you in the ass,” she warns, drawing my attention back to her. “Violet will turn on you. She won’t mean to, but your enemies will fill her head with lies and she’ll think she’s saving you. Where does that leave her?”

I stare at her for a moment. There are so many pieces of that statement to dissect, but I think the one thing that stands out most is her knowledge of my enemies and what they’re capable of. A woman like Flora, someone who as far as I know hasn’t had any affiliation with the mob, shouldn’t sound so sure of herself in that regard. Still, I force myself to push her comments to the back of my head.

There’s no place for doubt.

Not now.

---