Chapter 3 - The Shadow Over Callahan’s
The morning after the snowstorm, Callahan’s Diner was cold and smelled of stale grease. Mina arrived at six in the morning, her mind still replaying the icy gray eyes of Leo Vance and the frail weight of little Ezra in her arms.
By eight o'clock, Burkett walked in.
Burkett was a stout, balding man whose sleaziness was as unmistakable as the smell of cheap cologne that heralded his arrival. He shuffled into the back office, checked the register logs, and immediately stormed out toward the counter where Mina was wiping down the coffee machine.
"Reyes!" Burkett barked, slamming his palm on the laminate counter. "What the hell happened here last night?"
Mina didn't flinch, though her stomach tightened. "What do you mean?"
"The back alley door was unlocked when I came in," Burkett sneered, stepping closer into her personal space. "And there's dried blood on booth four. Did you bring one of your street friends in here after hours? You trying to get this place robbed?"
"A child was hurt in the alley, Burkett," Mina said evenly, holding his gaze. "He was freezing to death. I brought him inside for ten minutes until his family picked him up."
"I don't give a damn about some street brat!" Burkett snapped, his face flushing red. "This is my restaurant. You breached protocol. You used diner towels, you left a mess, and you stayed past your scheduled shift without my permission."
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a greasy whisper that made Mina's skin crawl. "I told you last week, Mina... things could be real easy for you here. You play nice with me, I give you full shifts. You give me attitude, or you pull stunts like last night... and I fire you. In fact, maybe I should call the cops on you for trespassing."
Mina clenched her fists under the counter. She needed this job. She had less than four hundred dollars in her bank account, and rent was due in two weeks. But as she looked at Burkett's smirking face, the memory of Ezra's terrified eyes flared in her mind.
"I saved a boy's life," she said softly, her voice laced with steel. "Do whatever you have to do, Burkett."
Burkett’s eyes narrowed. He raised a finger, about to yell, when the front bell of the diner chimed.
The atmosphere in the diner instantly changed. The low murmur of the morning regulars died down completely.
Two men in tailored navy suits walked in. They didn't look like diners. They looked like predators walking into a sheep pen. The larger of the two, a man with a scarred jaw named Frank, scanned the room before walking straight to the counter.
Burkett’s aggressive posture vanished, replaced by an uneasy sweat. "Can... can I help you gentlemen?"
Frank ignored Burkett entirely, looking directly at Mina. "Miss Reyes?"
"Yes?" Mina answered cautiously.
Frank placed a heavy, dark-envelope on the counter. "Mr. Vance sent this. The boy is out of the hospital. He has three stitches on his head, but he is recovering at home. He asked for you."
Burkett’s jaw dropped. "Vance? As in... Leo Vance?"
Frank turned slowly to look at Burkett. The glare was cold enough to freeze water. "Is there a problem here, sir?"
"No—no problem!" Burkett stammered, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. "No problem at all! Mina was just... taking her break."
Frank turned back to Mina, his tone shifting to one of utmost respect. "Mr. Vance would like to invite you to dinner tonight at his residence. A car will pick you up at seven. If you accept, please take the rest of the day off. Your lost wages have already been compensated."
May you like
Frank tapped the envelope. Inside, visible through a clear window, was a stack of crisp bills—far more than Mina earned in two months.
Mina stared at the envelope, then at the terrified face of her manager. The shadow of the Vance family had reached Callahan’s, and her quiet, hidden life in Boston was officially over.
