part0062

I rushed past Magda and Gigi, grabbing my waitress apron on the way. Gigi gave me a sympathetic pat on the hip, but I caught the evil glare on Magda’s wicked old face. She was such a wrinkled old bat. I didn’t know how Mr. Shy put up with her, but she’d been at the restaurant for a long time. Maybe she was useful in a way I just hadn’t figured out yet. She certainly didn’t wait tables in a timely manner, handle the register well or deal with the kitchen. She was a sour bitch and everyone hated her.

But unfortunately, she had about twenty-one years seniority on me. Which was about twenty years and ten months longer than I’d been working at the popular Italian restaurant.

“You’re late.”

Her voice, like nails on a chalkboard, sounded behind me in the lit doorway of the storage room where I was frantically buttoning my white blouse and tying the short, black apron around my hips.

“My bus was late, Magda,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, instead of the snarky I-hate-you-and-want-to-rip-your-saggy-tits-off that kept bubbling up every time I looked at her. “Mr. Shy can dock my pay. I’ll be sure to note it on my time sheet.”

“And I’ll be sure to tell him personally,” she sneered.

“No need,” a deep voice interrupted from the dark depths of the storage room.

We both jumped and I clutched at the top buttons of my blouse where they gaped wide open, giving a generous view of my cleavage. I squinted into the shadows, unable to see anything. Every single one of the hairs on my body stood up and told me that my boss was standing in the shadows, his eyes roving over me. It was crazy, this awareness I had for him.

“Mr. Shy,” I whispered, unable to properly find my voice. “I-I’m sorry, my bus was late again. I think it’s this never-ending rain. It seems to be delaying the entire city.”

“You can go,” he said, his voice a delicious drawl that sent both a shiver and a creep right down my spine.

I nodded and turned away, intent on getting into the restaurant and staking out my tables. It was a Thursday evening; the tips were likely to be good.

“Not you, Nola,” he corrected as Magda left the room.

I stopped and stood completely still. There was something about this man that spellbound me. I knew it was wrong to fantasize about my boss, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. And the weirdest part was that I’d never actually seen him. He hid his face from the world. No one actually knew what he looked like.

I could hear him breathing as he approached, gliding smoothly toward me. I blinked in the darkness of the closet, widening my eyes, straining to catch a glimpse. Suddenly, the jokes among us younger waitresses about him being a ghost or a phantom didn’t seem so funny anymore. I felt something touch the ends of my hair, wild from a hasty brushing and a mad dash through the rainy evening toward the bus shelter. I took a quick step back, sure it must have been my imagination since no one was touching me.

“Late again, Nola,” he said, his husky voice calm and uncaring.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Shy. I’ll try harder,” I said desperately. I really did need the job, as jobs were hard to come by these days, but I’m terrible at keeping to a schedule. Always have been. Before I dropped out of college, I was the bane of my professor’s classrooms, always rushing in with excuses. “I can’t seem to make it to the bus on time! All this rain just keeps slowing everything down.”

He ignored my poorly jabbered excuses. “Does Magda pick on you a lot?”

“Uh…” I didn’t know what to say. I thought I was in trouble for being late again. “Sometimes, I guess. But she doesn’t bother me. I’m half Italian, half Latina, my temper is… well, let’s just say I can handle myself.”

He chuckled, the sound sending a ripple of pleasure straight through me. I clutched my blouse a little tighter.

“Okay, Nola. Back to work. We’ll talk later.”

I didn’t hesitate, the moment he dismissed me I turned tail and ran. So maybe I found the boss a little attractive, but he also gave me some major sinister vibes. The whole invisible thing, where no one ever saw what he actually looked like? Yeah, it was just weird. Like straight out of a movie or something. And I’d heard things about Mr. Shy. Gigi had been working at the restaurant for over two years and she told me that he just walked in one day out of nowhere and took over. Not just this restaurant, but operations all over the city. How he managed such a feat no one seems to know. Apparently, he crushed any resistance he encountered with such brutal ease that everyone else just fell into place like dominos. Like a demon, he swooped in and took over the entire city’s underworld operations, and not a single person put up even a whimper of complaint. Or at least no one lived long enough to complain about the takeover.

Me? I’m just a hard-luck college dropout from the wrong side of the tracks. Mom took off when I was a baby and dad a few years later. When I was a kid I used to tell people my parents died so I could get more sympathy, which would sometimes translate to more food, better choice in desks at school, better friends. The dead parent lie hadn’t helped in the long term. Now I’m paying off a monster student loan without the benefit of even a certificate to show for my effort and working a waitress job in a restaurant owned by the mob.

I punched in my time card and selected my tables. Gigi gave me a quick rundown before clocking out and heading into the storm, pulling the brim of her hood low over her face. I sighed, pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail and pasted on my best fake smile before I moved into the dining room.

A sudden chill slithered down my spine. I stopped and glanced around, my smile faltering. Next to the bar stood a man, alone in the shadows, his head turned toward me. He was tall and broad-shouldered. His trench coat with the upturned collar hid his body and face from view. He wore an expensive dark purple dress shirt and a black tie with a golden tie pin poked through the middle. A broad-brimmed hat shadowed his entire head. With the hat and coat, he looked as though he’d dressed appropriately for the weather. Except Mr. Shy never took them off. His hat tilted in a nod and his leather clad hand came up to touch the brim of his hat in silent salute.