Page 28 of Operation Sunshine
Ben smiled to himself.Franco can even turn maintenance work into a performance.
Ollie was behind the bar, polishing glasses with the casual commitment of someone who had nowhere else to be. His hair was in that artfully careless state it always seemed to be in, and his shirt was only half-tucked, as though he’d either just arrived or had given up halfway through getting dressed. Every now and then, he would glance at the rain, mutter something under his breath, and go back to buffing the same glass.
In the far corner, Ben sat with his laptop open, a spreadsheet glowing on the screen. His coat was still damp from the walk over, and there was a faint sheen of rain on his shoes. He hadn’t been notified that business was dead tonight, which meant he’d trudged through the downpour for nothing more than a slow-drip coffee and the dubious pleasure of Franco calling across the room,“Wow, you made it through the apocalypse!”when he’d walked in.
Ben had ignored him and instead had taken up his usual corner table, the one with a clear line of sight to both the kitchen and the bar. From here, he could keep an eye on things without hovering. Not that there was much to watch, unless he counted Franco’s precarious balancing act on the chair or Ollie’s meditative polishing.
The rain made a soft hiss against the windows, and the occasionalswooshof a passing car filled the quiet. The heater hummed. Somewhere in the back, Raj banged something metallic hard enough to make Franco flinch.
Ben checked the time, then returned to his laptop, reviewing the updated inventory figures. More than three weeks in and he’d already managed to make some progress: the portion sizes were getting more consistent, stock levels were no longer a mystery, and there was at least a loose rotation for staff breaks. He knew the changes weren’t universally loved—he’d noted the sideways glances, heard the muttered“corporate”jokes—but the place was running more tightly.
Change was slow but itwashappening.
Achinksurprised him, and he glanced up to see a fresh cup ofespresso left by Franco, who was already on his way back to the kitchen without a word.
Good man.
“Ben.”
He looked up. Ollie had abandoned the bar and was leaning against the nearest table, his arms folded, his glass polishing cloth draped over one shoulder like a chef’s towel.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Ollie said.
Ben blinked. “What thing?”
“The numbers face.” Ollie tilted his head. “Like you’re calculating the GDP of a small nation in your head and it’s exhausting.”
Ben set his pen down with a frown. “I’m working.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Ollie’s voice was light, but there was a flicker of something behind it. Curiosity, maybe, or caution. “Question is… how’s it going for you? This whole… storming the castle thing?”
Ben’s lips curved in the faintest ghost of a smile. “Depends who you ask.”
Ollie huffed and retreated to the bar, where he balanced a highball glass on his forehead and stared at the ceiling, as still as a statue.
Franco was in the kitchen with Raj, and Ben had been handed the perfect opportunity for a conversation he’d been anticipating for a while.
“You okay over there?” Ben’s voice echoed in the hush.
Ollie caught the glass before it could fall and set it down. “Fine,” he said, dragging the word out like smoke. “Just communing with the gods of gin.”
Ben closed the laptop, then stood and stretched. He picked up his espresso and walked over. “Busy night,” he observed in a dry tone.
Ollie smirked. “Record-breaking. I broke a sweat slicing that one lime.”
Ben took a seat at the bar, nodding at the half-empty glass beside Ollie. “That water?”
Ollie didn’t look at him. “Sure.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “Do you evernotdrink during a shift?”
Ollie’s mouth quirked. “That sounded very managerial of you.”
“It wasn’t,” Ben said. He paused. “Okay. Maybe a little.”
Ollie sighed, then rubbed his face. “Depends on the night. On the weather. On… a lot of things.”
The room held that statement for a moment. Then Ollie reached behind the bar for a jug and poured himself another, clear liquid over ice.
