Page 82 of Scrape the Barrel
“Gemma?” Erica interrupted, rubbing her two fingers together after having checked for dust atop the spare coffee machine on the counter.
“You said you were going to check in.”
She turned on the faucet for a brief moment, running her fingers under the water, then grabbed a paper towel to wipe her hands dry. “Right. Well, everything looks in order here.”
My hand reached for my necklace on impulse, but I forced it back down. “Was it her?”
She tossed the paper towel in the trash bin, then faced me. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
My brows pulled together. Surely she had to remember. “You said someone made a complaint about my work performance.”
The slightest bit of recognition shone when her chin tilted slightly higher in the air. “Ah, that.” She was quiet a moment, crossing her arms as she leaned a shoulder against the cabinet beside her. “I can assure you it wasn’t Gemma who made the complaint, as to keep the peace here in the cafe.”
My forehead creased further as her words didn’t make anything any clearer. “I’m confused. Who filed the complaint, then?”
Her finger tapped her arm a few times as she contemplated telling me. “All I can say is that it was a male who spoke to me on the phone.”
My eyes widened slightly before the worst case scenario started flying through my mind. Was it the guy from the bar, the same man who came in asking my last name? Was that why he’d come in, so his complaint was more viable if he had my full name?
Or could it be Jason?
With that thought alone, the blood drained from my entire body.
“A Food Safety Inspection guy is supposed to come in next week, if you and the girls can keep up the cleanliness around here,” Erica said, though her voice barely penetrated my thoughts.
I forced a nod.
“Right, well, I need to get going. I have a long week of meetings in Boise, but if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call.”
I nodded again, and I barely noticed when she walked by to leave.
If Jason was trying to sabotage my job, he knew where I worked.
And if he found my place of work, he could find where I lived.
Where Avery and I lived.
I blinked a few times before crossing to the sink to fill a paper cup with water, taking a long gulp. Once it was empty, I filled it again, chugging the water like it could somehow clear my head.
None of it was confirmed.
I had no idea who had made the complaint to Erica, and for all I knew, it was an angry customer that got one sugar instead of two.
I dug around in the top drawer for the bottle of Advil we kept back here, taking two pills to keep the impending headache at bay. I tossed the cup in the trash, giving myself a minute to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, just like Callan told me to.
I attempted to distract myself with questions, but it didn’t work as well as when he did it.
Grabbing my phone from my locker, I shot Callan a text.
Me: What’s your current view?
In less than a minute, he was typing back.
Callan: Ace attempting to bite a soccer ball. What’s yours?
Me: Unfortunately not the same
Callan: Is everything okay?
