Page 34 of Look at Her and Die

I rolled my eyes at his obvious attempt to appear to care who I hired.

“The fucking hard way,” I muttered as I walked past, shoved my shit underneath the counter overly hard, and then walked to the coffee pot.

I started a new batch because I knew that Tony and his boys would be in shortly, then walked up to the counter and said, “Are you okay with working shitty hours, and making barely above minimum wage for an hour?”

She blinked at me, startled by my abrupt question.

She frowned, looked from me to Lenny, then said, “Um, yes?”

She probably wasn’t okay with it, but when she said she needed money under the table and wouldn’t bother interviewing if I wasn’t okay with that, I figure she just needed a job.

“You keep all your tips, we don’t tip share here,” I said. “You’ll also be responsible for opening. I’ll get here when I get here.”

She nodded, eyes wide.

“What’s your name again?” I asked.

“Fiona,” she answered. “Fiona Bradshaw.”

I nodded. “Fiona, you’re hired.”

She blinked. “Just like that?”

“You were early, you are dressed conservatively, and you’ll take barely above minimum wage. As long as you don’t steal from me, we’ll make a good pair,” I told her honestly as the door jingled.

I looked up to find Tony there and I smiled. “Hey, Tony.”

The door jingled again, and my smile died.

Posy, a guy I’d never seen before, and the girl walked into the diner.

They walked to a table that was in the back of the dining room, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from uttering a few choice curse words.

Tips.

Think about the tips, Searcy.

“When do you want me to start?” she asked.

“Now,” I answered. “You think you can get Tony all set up? His crew usually orders easy breakfasts and coffee. They tip well, though.”

I gave her Tony because I knew he’d be nice to her.

And, looking at how fragile Fiona looked, she might need gentle and nice today.

She looked like one of those owls that were motion activated. Her head was on a swivel, constantly looking around as if she was expecting someone to jump out at any second and say, ‘boo!’

She also had dark circles under her eyes that I couldn’t tell if they were the end of bruises or just lack of sleep.

Her porcelain white skin looked damn near breakable, too.

Her long sleeves and leggings hid everything but her neck, face and hands.

I had a distinct feeling that if I saw underneath the layers, she’d probably be bruised.

Why else cover so much skin?

That was another reason why I’d hired her so quickly.

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