Page 23 of Reaper
She shakes her head. “I don’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
I have no fucking clue who the man behind my words is. Or at least, I haven’t seen or heard from him in a very long time.
“Maybe for you,” Kyra comments. “But I’m a single mom of two, a business owner with a business that’s failing, and apparently a woman with a target on her head. I’m alone with no idea how to deal at the moment.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not exactly alone.”
She lifts her cell before dropping it back onto her desk. “Texts I’ve gotten today say otherwise.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, three of my four waitresses have quit today. Either Jenny told them what happened yesterday, or the cops called them.” Kyra shrugs. “They no longer feel safe working here.”
“I’m sorry.” Surprisingly, I find that I mean it. “Life sucks sometimes.”
She sighs dramatically. “It does. So, in answer to your original question, no, I’m not okay. Not even a little bit.”
All I’m asking is that you keep an open mind and heart.
With Skuld’s words playing on a loop in my mind, I ask, “What can I do to help?”
“Seriously?”
My brow wrinkles. “Uh, yeah, seriously.”
“You and your friends have already done so much.”
“And we’d do it all over again. But that doesn’t mean I, or we, can’t do more.”
She opens her mouth, but her eyes shift past me. “Jenny?”
I glance over my shoulder and see the woman standing in the doorway, fidgeting with her hands.
“Hey, boss,” Jenny greets, looking everywhere but at Kyra.
“What can I do for you?” Kyra asks.
“I just came to let you know that I can’t come back to work for you,” she blurts. “I’m sorry, I really am, but after I told Todd what happened, he said I had to quit, or he’d leave.”
“Who’s Todd?” I demand.
“My boyfriend, not that it’s any of your business.”
Jenny’s right, it’s not my business. And I didn’t ask out of jealousy or some shit. I asked because this Todd fucker iscausing more problems for Kyra which,apparently, I’m not okay with.
“You’re quitting?” Kyra asks, refocusing the conversation. “That leaves me with no one.”
“I’m sorry,” Jenny repeats, staring at the floor. “I’m… I gotta go.”
She turns on her heel and heads for the back door.
“Like I said, alone,” Kyra mutters.
“And like I said,” I begin, nodding toward the dining area. “Definitely not alone. Why don’t you go home and get some rest? We’re almost done out there. We can clean up and lock up.”
Kyra hesitates, and I can see the argument in her eyes that she doesn’t know us, but something shifts in her expression. Her exhaustion is taking over.
