Chapter 3 - The Breaking Point
The following Monday, Bellamy’s was a powder keg. Brett had finally snapped. He had convinced Henderson that Tessa was "unprofessional" and was going to ruin their reputation with the "high-profile clientele."
When Tessa arrived for her shift, her locker was cleared out. Her apron and server book were sitting in a trash can in the alley.
Brett was waiting for her by the back door, smoking a cigarette. He looked smug. "You’re done, Whitlock. Henderson wants you out. Turns out, hanging around with the local crime boss doesn't look great on a restaurant's profile."
Tessa didn't cry. She didn't beg. She reached into the trash, retrieved her book, and straightened her back. "You’re doing this because you’re jealous, Brett. You’ve been here longer than me, and you’re still a coward who needs to bully people to feel important."
"Get out!" he shouted, throwing his cigarette at her feet.
Tessa walked out into the cold Chicago night. She had no money for the week, no job, and her rent was due. She walked toward the bus stop, her heart hammering in her chest. She had been so careful for so long, and now, everything was gone.
She didn't get on the bus. She walked. She walked toward the South Side, toward the community center, but she didn't stop there. She found herself wandering, aimlessly, until a black sedan pulled up alongside her.
The window rolled down. Salvatore was in the backseat. He didn't motion for her to get in; he just waited.
Tessa hesitated. This was the moment where she could choose to keep her life "safe" and predictable, or step into a world she only understood through rumors.
She opened the door and slid into the leather seat.
They fired me, she signed.
Salvatore watched her. He didn't ask why. He already knew. He tapped the driver on the shoulder, and the car pulled away.
You don't belong in that kitchen, he signed. You were wasted on those people. What do you want, Tessa?
May you like
I want to pay my brother’s tuition. I want to live without waiting for the next disaster.
Salvatore looked out the window at the passing city lights. I need someone who can see what others don't. Someone who understands that silence is just another way of speaking. Will you work for me?
