DARK DEEDS

40

WHEN THE SHIFT is over — I count the cash Salvatore slid into the apron. It comes to 2000 euros. I almost do not believe it but then I remember this is Salvatore in question.

He has all the cash to throw at me like I am some stripper. That does not sit well with me. More so when I think about the fact that this is well over a months worth of what I would make here.

Did he have to kill someone for this cash? Or does the black tower make all of this? I do not know. I also do not want to think about it. Not now. Not when I want to use the cash.

I put the cash into my backpack. Then I untie the apron and fold it onto the shelf of the backroom lockers. Thereafter, I take the backpack and head into the café.

“Carina? A word.” Simone tells me as I am about to head out. I turn back and walk to her — curious as to what she has in mind. “Tips are put in the tip Jar over there.”

She points at a Jar I have never seen before. Did she put it there just now? I wonder. And I wonder if she wants me to put the cash Salvatore handed me in that Jar. She does and she makes it clear when she adds. “That is inclusive of the tip from Salvatore.”

“That was not a tip.” I answer. “It was for a taxi.”

“That was too much for a taxi. Give me the cash and I will take some out for a taxi.” Simone presses on.

“Simone that is not—” Jasmine starts to interrupt.

“No. Jasmine. That tip was for the café. Not her alone. You know the rules.” Simone extends her hand to me. “Give it to me.”

I let out a breath and reach into the backpack. Then I hand her all the cash. I do not want to lose this Job. Much less have her call the cops on me. Something tells me that she is more than capable.

“Good.” She smiles before she hands me a few euros for a taxi. I smile a plastic smile and thank her. But once I am out the door — the smile falls like the rain out.

I cannot help but think about how blind I was even when Isabella pointed out how plastic Simone and Jasmine were. I called her all sorts of names for it but now it has come back to bite me in the butt. I want to quit and had the circumstances been different — I would have.

Yet I do not have much of a choice here. I have to endure at least until GRADUATION this winter. Or at least until I look for a paid internship that is not at the black tower.

Instead of a taxi — I take the bus and save the extra cash for tomorrow.

When I reach campus — the rain is not that much so I run to the dorm room. Isabella is not there when I enter. All that is left is a handwritten note.

It reads — “MY MOTHER IS ILL AGAIN. HAD TO TAKE THE FIRST BUS BACK HOME. SEE YOU SOON.

— BELLA.”

I feel bad for her. Finals are soon and I know how much she wants to be the best student. However I also know how much she loves her mother.

I will call her up tomorrow and check up on her. Now — I feel a bit of a headache. Before it becomes worse — I check the shelf for painkillers but discover none.