Chapter 2 - THE OWNER
Nobody spoke.
Roman Mercer stood in the middle of Laurel as if the entire restaurant had suddenly become his private office.
I looked at David.
Then at Roman.
“Mr. Mercer?”
David swallowed.
“Yes, sir.”
Roman glanced toward the dining room.
“Who owns this restaurant?”
David's mouth opened.
Closed.
Then opened again.
“The company.”
Roman's expression didn't change.
“That's not what I asked.”
“The restaurant is operated by Laurel Hospitality.”
“Who owns Laurel Hospitality?”
David looked terrified.
“Mercer Holdings.”
My stomach dropped.
I stared at Roman.
“You?”
He looked at me.
“Indirectly.”
David immediately stepped forward.
“Mr. Mercer, Nina violated company policy.”
Roman turned.
“What policy?”
“She abandoned her shift.”
“To save a man's life.”
“She was late.”
Roman looked at me.
“How late?”
“Fifty-two minutes.”
His eyes returned to David.
“And you fired her.”
“Yes.”
Roman nodded slowly.
“Then you're fired too.”
The restaurant went silent.
David's face collapsed.
“Sir—”
“Leave.”
“But—”
“Now.”
David looked around desperately.
Nobody helped him.
He walked away.
Roman turned to me.
“You need to get your son his medicine.”
I froze.
“How do you know?”
“You told me.”
“I didn't tell you where.”
“You don't have to.”
I stared.
“That's creepy.”
For the first time, the corner of his mouth moved.
“Fair.”
He reached into his coat.
I stepped backward.
He stopped immediately.
Instead of a weapon, he pulled out a business card.
“Call this number.”
I took it.
“What for?”
“Anything you need.”
“I don't need charity.”
“It isn't charity.”
“What is it?”
“Payment.”
“For what?”
“For keeping me alive.”
“I didn't do it for money.”
“I know.”
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“You're still employed.”
I blinked.
“What?”
He looked at the manager's office.
“Your termination is void.”
“But you fired David.”
“Yes.”
“I can't work here without a manager.”
“I'll find one.”
He left.
I stood there holding his card.
One of the servers whispered:
“Who the hell is that?”
I looked at the door.
“I don't know.”
But I did.
His name was Roman Mercer.
And for the first time, I began to understand why three armed men had arrived when he was bleeding.
The next morning, I went to Miller's Pharmacy.
My prescription was ready.
The pharmacist slid the bag toward me.
“Paid.”
I stared.
“I didn't pay.”
“Someone did.”
“Who?”
She shrugged.
“A gentleman.”
I already knew.
I grabbed my phone.
The number on Roman's card answered on the second ring.
“Roman Mercer.”
“You paid for Leo's medicine.”
“Yes.”
“I told you I don't want charity.”
“I told you it wasn't charity.”
“You're not listening.”
“I am.”
“Then stop doing things for me.”
Silence.
Then:
“Fine.”
I blinked.
“That easy?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“No.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“I won't buy anything else.”
“Good.”
“But if your son needs something and you can't afford it, you call me.”
I closed my eyes.
“You're impossible.”
“So I've been told.”
I hung up.
Then I looked at Leo's medicine.
May you like
And felt something dangerous happen.
I trusted him.
