They Sent A Broke Waitress To Humiliate A Deaf Crime Boss — The Outcome Left The Entire Syndicate S...
Chapter 4
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Who told you to come in here?Tatum stared at the question. Her mouth opened, then closed. She put the glass down carefully on the table. She picked up the pen. Her hand was still shaking; she wrote anyway:A man named Briggs. He said you were expecting service.She set the pen down and stepped back. Declan read her answer. The muscles along his jaw tightened very slightly; a person who wasn't watching for it would have missed it entirely. He wrote again:Briggs sent away my associate at the door.Tatum nodded, then, realizing, picked up the pen:Yes, I was told there was a mix-up.Declan looked at her over the notebook. His expression hadn't changed exactly, but something behind his eyes had sharpened into a different quality of attention. He wrote slowly:Why are you nervous?Tatum looked at the question for a long moment. She could write, "I'm fine." She could write, "I'm not." She could write something polished and professional that would keep this clinical and safe. Instead, she wrote the truth, because she was tired and because she was past the point where pride was something she could still afford:Briggs put money on the bar. He told my manager you'd react badly to a server coming in without your interpreter. He thought it would be funny to watch.She put the pen down. She didn't look at him while he read it.When she finally looked up, Declan was watching her with an expression she couldn't fully name. It wasn't pity. It wasn't anger. It was something older and more considered. He turned to a fresh page and wrote for several seconds. He turned the notebook around:How much?Tatum blinked. She wrote:2,000 for the staff.Declan read that. He set the pen down, picked it back up:That's what your calm is worth to Briggs, $2,000.Tatum didn't write anything back. She just looked at him. He was right. That was exactly what it was worth, and she had walked in here anyway.He wrote:What's your name?Tatum.He looked at her name for a moment, then:Do you have somewhere to be, Tatum?She almost laughed. She pulled the eviction notice from her apron pocket, smoothed it against the table, and set it next to the notebook without saying a word.Declan looked at the notice. He read the date, the amount, the landlord's name printed at the bottom in bureaucratic Courier font. He looked back up at her. He wrote three words:Sit down, please.She sat.They stayed in the private room for 40 minutes. The notebook moved back and forth between them like a relay, and by the time Declan stood to leave, Tatum had learned three things about him that she had not expected.