Not because of Vanessa.
He received a job at an electronics store paying two dollars more per hour.
On his final shift, he found Simone near the service corridor.
“Thanks for that day.”
She looked confused.
“What day?”
“You know.”
“Oh.”
Simone smiled.
“You were doing your job.”
“I thought I was going to get fired.”
“For touching a table?”
“She made it sound like I shoved her.”
Simone leaned against the cart.
“That’s why you tell what happened while you still remember it clearly.”
Mason nodded.
Then said something that stayed with her.
“I think she was mad because I didn’t become the person she said I was.”
Simone thought about that later.
Vanessa had accused Mason of being aggressive.
He had remained polite.
She accused Simone of threatening her.
Simone had stayed controlled.
The more reality refused to match Vanessa’s story, the angrier Vanessa became.
By March, Patrick had begun noticing the pattern too.
He asked Simone whether she wanted him to issue Vanessa a property-wide conduct warning.
Simone refused.
“Not yet.”
Patrick stared.
“You realize you are allowed to say yes before somebody throws a chair.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
Simone smiled.
“Because everybody keeps reminding me.”
Patrick sighed.
“Document the comments.”
She did.
Dates.
Times.
Witnesses.
Nothing dramatic.
Just enough to establish history if something worse happened.
Something worse eventually happened.
The trigger was embarrassingly small.
Bellamy launched a renovated spring patio in April.
The restaurant added new planters, heaters, tables, and a narrow strip of artificial grass along the outside edge. For opening weekend, Luis asked Westbridge for additional cleaning coverage because hundreds of customers were expected.
Simone volunteered.
Saturday was warm and sunny.
By noon, every table was full.
Simone spent the morning moving between Bellamy and the neighboring café, sweeping, emptying trash, and cleaning spills before people stepped in them.
Vanessa had a reservation at one.
Emily came with her.
Before arriving, they stopped at a specialty baking store two doors down because Emily needed cake supplies for her niece’s birthday.
She bought parchment paper.
Vanessa bought nothing.
At least that was what Emily initially thought.
Later, Emily would tell Patrick that Vanessa picked up a small paper sack while she was paying.
She assumed it contained something Vanessa purchased.
It contained white flour.
Emily did not know why.
Until they reached the patio.
Vanessa noticed Simone immediately.
Black pants.
White fitted tank.
Black leather-look work jacket.
White sneakers.
Long braids.
Large gold hoops.
Wooden broom.
The yellow facilities cart parked beside her.
Vanessa stopped.
Emily kept walking for several steps before realizing.
“What?”
Vanessa looked at the paper bag.
Then toward Simone.
Emily’s stomach tightened.
“What’s in that?”
Vanessa smiled.
“Nothing.”
“Vanessa.”
“It’s a joke.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“I know your face.”
Vanessa laughed.
“Relax.”
Emily grabbed lightly at her arm.
“Seriously, don’t.”
Vanessa pulled free.
“Everybody acts like she’s untouchable.”
Emily stared.
“She sweeps sidewalks.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Simone had her back turned.
Vanessa walked toward her.
Emily followed because leaving somehow felt worse.
A few diners noticed the blonde approaching the employee.
Nobody understood why.
Simone swept crumbs away from the artificial turf.
Vanessa opened the brown bag.
She came within several feet.
Then swung it hard.
The bottom of the paper sack burst.
Flour exploded.
A white cloud swallowed Simone from the shoulders upward.
People screamed.
One diner dropped a fork.
Another immediately reached for a phone.
Simone coughed.
She could barely see.
Flour coated her braids and stuck to moisture along her face.
White powder covered her black jacket so completely that parts of it looked gray.
The broom remained in one hand.
For several seconds, Simone did not move.
Vanessa laughed.
Not loudly at first.
More like disbelief at her own stunt.
Then louder when people stared.
“It’s flour!”
Emily did not laugh.
“Vanessa.”
Simone finally wiped her eyes.
She looked toward the ground.
A pile of flour covered the exact section she had just swept.
She looked toward Vanessa.
The blonde smiled.
“Come on.”
Simone leaned the broom against her cart.
“What is wrong with you?”
Vanessa’s smile tightened.
“It was a joke.”
“You threw a bag of flour in my face.”
“You’re fine.”
Simone brushed powder from one sleeve.
“You need to leave.”
Vanessa laughed.
“You don’t tell me to leave.”
“I’m telling you now.”
“Go get Luis.”
Simone stared at her.
“I don’t need Luis to tell you not to throw things at me.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The attitude.”
Simone almost laughed.
“My face is covered in flour.”
“Because you take everything so seriously.”
Emily stepped forward.
“Vanessa, stop.”
Vanessa turned.
“You stop.”
Emily froze.
Several diners had now stood from their tables.
Simone noticed phones.
She hated that.
This was becoming exactly the kind of spectacle she had spent months avoiding.
She reached for her broom.
“I’m done.”
Vanessa moved closer.
“Of course you are.”
Simone stopped.
“What does that mean?”
“You always walk away once you’ve gotten somebody else in trouble.”