Page 29 of Salvation

Jogging in the damn sweltering heat the block and a half to the deli, I burst through the doors and head straight to the counter. The teenage boy behind it stares at me like I’m insane as I gasp out my order. He nods. As he’s punching in the order, a chuckle has me turning around.

My eyes widen as I see Gabrial sitting with Max at one of the small bistro tables near the windows. He laughs again. “In a hurry for those fries, Hope?”

Grinning back at him, I lean on my knees to try to catch my breath while strands of my hair stick to my temples and neck from my mad dash. When I can breathe normally, I stand and cross over to him. Max stands up and gestures to the chair he was just occupying. I slide into the seat and lean on the table as my pulse starts to slow from my race over here. Finally, I lean back, using my hands to lift my hair off my hot neck and look at Gabrial. I smirk. “I didn’t want the kitchen to close before I got my fries!”

He does something very uncharacteristic and laughs heartily before saying, “Never fear. I highly doubt the kitchen would ever deny you a thing that you desired.”

He’s probably right, but I don’t want to take advantage of them. If I came in after two and wanted something they’d have to actually cook, I’m certain they would in fact make it for me, but I would never ask them to. I don’t believe I deserve special treatment and the sign posted clearly states that the kitchen closes at two for everything requiring actual cooking. Sandwiches and cold salads are available until close, but the “cook” is off at two and I respect that.

Realizing I didn’t actually pay for my food yet, I turn back to the counter to try to catch the teenager, but a line has formed, and I don’t want to cut in.

Gabrial sees me looking anxious and says, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Grimacing, I hold up my wallet. “I didn’t pay for my order yet. I placed it after scaring the dude to death and then walked over here to talk to you. I forgot to pay for my meal.”

He chuckles and gestures for Max to go to the counter. He’s standing a discreet distance away, but close enough that he can still hear us. Max nods and crosses the restaurant before I can tell him not to pay for my food.

He slips a bill across the counter, and I see the teenager’s eyes widen as he looks at it before he looks over at us at the table. He waves in acknowledgement and thanks.

Max walks back over and sits at a nearby table where he can see us but still watch the door. I notice that he always does that. He’s always with Gabrial and he’s always on alert. I think he’s Gabrial’s right hand man and also maybe his bodyguard. He’s been by Gabrial’s side for almost ten years now. So, I know him. We are not close as I don’t involve myself in anything to do with Gabrial’s “business.” but he and Davey, Gabrial’s driver, are always around.

I lean over and ask quietly, “How much did he give that boy?”

Gabrial looks at me so intently I start to squirm. Finally, he says, “Enough to cover the food and give him a generous tip. He works hard. He could be on the streets pushing product or involved in shit that will get him killed, but instead he’s in here most days, working hard. He’s earned it.”

When he says things like that he floors me. It’s the things like that that have me loving him. He’s involved with all kinds of illegal things and makes a lot of money with whatever illegal things he’s into, yet he respects and supports honest, hard-working people that refuse to let their circumstances define them.

Gabrial is quite the conundrum.

As thoughts spin through my head, the teenager calls out, “Mr. DeLucca, your order is ready. Miss Hope’s is ready, too.”

Gabrial signals to Max and he crosses the room to get the trays of food. He sets southwest chicken salad in front of Gabrial, along with a Perrier, and my steaming fries and wrap in front of me, along with my tap water with two slices of lemon, just the way I like it, before taking his own tray to his table and digging into his muffuletta.

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