“You're firing me?”
“I'm removing you from the schedule.”
“For feeding someone food we were throwing away?”
“For insubordination.”
Roger stepped closer.
“And because I've warned you.”
Marissa looked around the restaurant.
She could feel every eye on her.
She thought about rent.
Four days.
She thought about her mother's medication.
The pharmacy had already called twice.
She thought about the fifty hours she had worked the previous week.
Morning shifts.
Evening shifts.
Weekend doubles.
All of it suddenly balanced on the edge of one sentence.
Roger held out his hand.
“Apron.”
Her fingers trembled.
She untied it.
Slowly.
She folded it once.
Then twice.
She placed it on the counter.
“You're a cruel man, Mr. Vance.”
Roger's mouth curled.
“And you're unemployed.”
Marissa grabbed her worn canvas coat.
She lifted her bag.
Then stopped.
She looked toward the window.
The old man was gone.
She walked out.
The bell above the door rang once.
Then she disappeared into the gray Chicago afternoon.
At table twelve, Ethan Calloway hadn't touched his coffee.
His business partner, Nolan Price, noticed.
Nolan leaned toward him.
“Don't.”
Ethan's eyes remained on the door.
“Don't what?”
“Don't start.”
Ethan finally looked at him.
Nolan lowered his voice.
“You know what I mean.”
“You think I'm going to do something stupid.”
“You're a venture capitalist with a twelve-figure net worth. You don't get involved in every employee dispute.”
Ethan looked back toward the door.
“That's not what this is.”
“It is.”
“No.”
Ethan picked up his cup.
The coffee was cold.
He didn't care.
Nolan sighed.
“People get fired every day.”
Ethan stood.
He straightened his charcoal suit.
“It's only a harsh world,” he said quietly, “because men with the power to change it decide to finish their pie instead.”
Nolan stared at him.
“You're serious.”
Ethan looked at the plate of untouched pie between them.
Then he pushed it away.
“Very.”
He reached into his jacket.
Pulled out his phone.
And made one call.
“Get me the complete operating file on Ashford Hospitality.”
A pause.
“All locations.”
Another pause.
“And I want every complaint filed against The Ashford Grill in the last five years.”
He hung up.
Nolan stared at him.
“What are you looking for?”
Ethan looked through the glass door.
Rain streaked the window.
“I'm not sure yet.”
Then he said:
“But I'm going to find out.”
The Woman Who Couldn't Afford to Be Kind
Marissa walked three blocks before she allowed herself to cry.
She stopped beneath the awning of a closed bookstore.
The rain fell beyond the sidewalk.
She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.
“No,” she whispered.
Not here.
Not in public.
She had cried enough in private.
She had cried after her father died.
She had cried when her mother was diagnosed with heart failure.
She had cried the night she realized her savings were gone.
She had cried in the bathroom at work when a customer left a cruel tip and told her she was “lucky to have a job.”
But she couldn't cry now.
Because crying wouldn't pay rent.
She pulled her phone from her pocket.
A notification waited.
PHARMACY: PRESCRIPTION READY — BALANCE DUE $186.40
Marissa stared at it.
Then another notification appeared.
LANDLORD: RENT REMINDER — DUE FRIDAY
She closed her eyes.
Her mother needed the medication.
Her landlord needed the rent.
Her car needed new brakes.
And now she had no job.
She laughed once.
It sounded almost like a sob.
“Perfect.”
She called her mother.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Marissa?”
“Yeah.”
“You're supposed to be working.”
“I got off early.”
There was a pause.
Her mother knew her too well.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Marissa.”
She sighed.
“I got fired.”
Her mother's voice softened.
“Why?”
Marissa looked down at the wet sidewalk.
“I gave a homeless man some leftover food.”
Silence.
Then her mother laughed softly.
“Oh, honey.”
“Don't.”
“I'm not laughing at you.”
“I know.”
“You're your father's daughter.”
Marissa smiled despite herself.
Her father had been the kind of man who bought groceries for strangers.
He had also been the kind of man who couldn't walk past someone hungry.
Marissa remembered him once bringing home a woman from the bus stop because she was freezing.
Her mother had complained.
Her father had simply said:
“She's cold.”
That had been his entire argument.
He had never understood why helping someone required permission.
Marissa looked at the rain.