Born To Sin (Born #1)
Page 6
“Good riddance.” I’m relieved to have gotten rid of them. Truth be told, it’s probably why this restaurant is struggling.
I pull my phone from my bag and set it on the desk before going over my personnel files. I have 5 chefs here and eight at Leon’s. Surely I can find one that can be promoted to Head. It will be a lot easier to find a Staff Chef.
I hear the front door slam. It’s a wonder the glass didn’t break. “Shit.” I remember, I didn’t ask for Darren’s set of keys. He has keys to the doors and the security system. I’ll have to arrange for a locksmith to change the locks.
I grab my phone off the desk and google locksmiths in the area. I find one and dial. After explaining who I am and what I want, the man on the other end of the phone – Barry, hesitates.
“Do you have a problem?” I think maybe he can’t get out here this afternoon. I’ll have to let the security firm know to keep an eye out for Darren.
“Miss Cartwright, may I make a suggestion?”
“Certainly.”
“Rather than change the locks every time something happens, you might be better off with code pads. You would be able to change the codes yourself if you run into another problem.”
It makes sense. Leon showed me the code pads that he has at his restaurant. It would sure beat calling a locksmith every time someone loses their key.
“Go ahead and install them.”
“Yes, Miss Cartwright. Will I be able to access the restaurant this afternoon?”
“We’re closed from three until five. Would that suit?”
“That would be ideal. We won’t disturb any of the diners with drilling. I’ll meet you there.”
“Thank you, Barry. I’ll meet you by the front door at three.”
I disconnect the call. One problem solved. I go back to my personnel files. I wish I had the files from Leon’s but I can’t get those until the transfer has gone through. I’m good with that. I understand.
Staff began to arrive for their lunch shift. I speak with the Head Waiter - Chris, and ask him to come and fetch me when everyone is in. I tell him, I need to speak with them.
I go back to rummaging through the desk drawers. I’ve had no luck with the hunt for a chef so if Leon’s doesn’t have anyone who is promising, I’ll have to advertise. In the meantime, I’ll call an agency to get someone to cover Roberto’s shifts. I’ll manage it myself until things settle down.
I bend over to pick up a stapler I’ve dropped on the floor and notice a small drawer tucked under the desk. It’s above the other drawers and doesn’t have a handle. I get down on my knees to have a closer look. It takes me a moment to figure out it opens by pressing on the center.
I sit back in my chair and sift through the papers in there. There are a lot of betting slips. The amounts are in excess of one thousand dollars on some. A shiver passes over me. I wonder, has Darren been stealing from me to cover his debts? Is that the reason this restaurant has been failing? How did my accountant miss it?
I gather together the slips and stuff them into my purse. This needs to be investigated further. Chris knocks on the door frame.
“Miss Cartwright, the staff are all here except for Roberto.”
I stand up. “That’s fine.” We head for the staff room where the waiters, waitresses and chefs have taken a seat at the large table. I move to one end and motion for Chris to sit.
“Some of you were here last night and witnessed the incident with Roberto.” There’s a murmur of acknowledgment among the staff. “Behavior of that kind cannot be tolerated, therefore, he’s been fired. Darren has also been dismissed.”
I watch as some of the staff glance at each other with an, it’s about time expression on their faces. It makes me curious. “What do you know about Darren that I didn’t?”
One of the waitresses – Desiree, stands and speaks up. “He’s a creep. He hassled us girls all the time and even slapped Linda across the face when she back answered him.”
I’m shocked. “How long has this been going on?” I stay calm. I don’t want them to clam up.
“Ever since he got here. Two years.” Desiree appears to be their spokesperson.
“Why the fuck didn’t anyone come to me?” My voice is loud. So much for being calm. Thank God Desiree is willing to stand up to me.
“We couldn’t come to you. Darren said if we did, he’d fire us. Besides, you’ve seen the reviews on the restaurant and you still kept him and Roberto on. We didn’t think you cared. You rarely came in to see if we were happy and okay. You weren’t interested in knowing if there was something wrong. We were left at the mercy of Darren.”
“I’m sorry.” My voice is quiet. I am sorry. I have left my staff to be terrorized by their manager. I can understand they think I don’t care.
“We don’t have your kind of money. We can’t afford to be out of work with families to feed and clothe. I don’t mean to be disrespectful but it’s about fucking time you came to your senses.”
“Well they’re gone, and in the short term I’ll be managing the restaurant myself. I need to get things clear with you all. The state the restaurant was in when I arrived this morning was appalling and it won’t be tolerated. The cleaning is to be done at the end of your shift, not left for the next shift. Am I clear?”
“Yes,” they mumble in unison.
I’m in manager mode now. “Do any of you know why it wasn’t done? Is this a regular occurrence?” I pose my question to Desiree.
“Darren ordered us out as soon as we were finished last night. He said he had a meeting and he needed every one gone. The chef’s didn’t even have time to clean up the kitchen. Roberto said he was involved in the meeting and he’d do it later. Needless to say, he didn’t. He never does when they have their ‘meetings’.”
“Did these meetings happen often?” I’m suspicious they have something to do with the cache of betting slips I found.”
“About once a week.”
“Any particular night?”
The staff glance at each other and shake their heads before Desiree answers me. “No. It could be any night.”
“I’ll look into it. We are going to be short a Head Chef until I decide whether to train one of you or advertise. I’m going to bring someone in from the agency and if they think one of you would do well with extra training that is what I’ll do.”
The three chef’s glance at one another. I suspect any one of them would like the position but I won’t make a rash decision. This time I want to be sure I have the right person. “Now, another thing I need to inform you of is, I’ve bought Leon’s.”
“The Leon’s?” Desiree’s voice sounds as shocked as the expressions on the faces of the rest of the staff.
“Yes. The owner was elderly and looking to spend his twilight years with his wife. I’ll be over there for the next few days to learn the layout. They have an excellent manager so after that, I’ll concentrate on sorting everything out here.”
“Are you keeping the name?” Desiree asks the question on everyone’s lips.
“Yes, I am. I want to honor the old man. He’s put a lot of work into making Leon’s successful and the clientele will accept a new owner if nothing else changes.” I pray to God, nothing changes. Namely that Hamish stays put.
“Congratulations, Miss Cartwright.”
“Thank you, Desiree. Now, before you all get to work I want you to understand that if there is ever a problem with management again, you know to come to me. I will leave a contact number in the menu drawer by the front. Take it down, enter it into your phones, whatever. Make sure you have it.” The staff smiles and relax. They can see, I’m on their side. They all stand to file out. “Desiree, can you stay for a moment please.” I see her pale and hurry to reassure her. “It’s something I think you’ll like.”
She lets out her breath and sits down while we wait for the others to leave. I close the door when we’re alone.
“How long have you worked for me?”
“Seven
years.”
“How would you like to be trained to be the new manager?” I like the woman. She has passion, stands up for her colleagues even at the risk of being fired.
“What?” She is totally caught off balance.
“I would like you to be the new manager of Cleo’s.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Yes will do. There will be a substantial pay rise.”
“Yes, of course. I’d love to.”
“I’ll make arrangements for your course and let you know the details.”
“Thank you, Miss Cartwright.”
“You’re welcome. I believe you will make an excellent manager and I have faith you will not let me down.”
“Definitely not.”
I walk with her out to the restaurant and head back to my temporary office.
Chapter Seven
HAMISH
I’m sitting by the pool enjoying breakfast before I take off for home. For the first time in a couple of days I have clothes on and so does Wade. I take a sip of my coffee and mull over what I want to say before opening my mouth. Wade is munching on a piece of toast.
I place my mug on the table and focus my eyes on the most beautiful person I know. “Thank you.”
“For what.”
“For loving me, showing me I’m worth loving. For teaching me good people can be trusted. For worshipping my body, not abusing it. For everything.” A tear trickles down his cheek. “I love you, Wade but I’m not in love with you. I think I need a woman to fulfil that void.”
“I know you do. I love you too, but I know we’re not what each other needs. I’m always here for you if you need me though.”
“I know.” I take a gulp of my coffee. “How old are you?”
“Forty three. You?”
“Twenty nine.”
“Tell me about your upbringing. What was it like being a kid in such a rough neighborhood?”
I stay silent. I don’t want to recall the horrors of my childhood. Wade must know I’m struggling.
“Trust me, darling.”
“I’ve never told anyone. People knew things weren’t right, but there’s a code and no-one interferes.”
“Is that why you haven’t done anything about Jonesy?”
I nod my head. “I hate the way he’s living but I don’t know if he’d be any better off in the foster system.”
“Why haven’t you left? You earn more money than a lot of people in the city. I know you never spend any of it. Why don’t you move somewhere better?”
“I have almost six hundred thousand saved and I was going to move out eighteen months ago but decided against it.”
“Jonesy?”
“Yeah. I can’t bring myself to leave him with no-one to call on if he needs to.”
“Why don’t you ask his mother if you can take him to live with you?”
I drag my hands over my head. “Who would take care of him while I’m at work?”
“He could take care of himself. He does it now, and at least he’d be safer at your place than where he is.”
“That’s what he said. He asked to come and live with me.”
“Talk to his mother. You’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Maybe.” Truthfully, I would love to take the kid out of the area. He could have decent clothes and shoes, go to a good school. He’s pretty clever, I think. I love the little guy too. I’ll think it over some more when I go home.
“You haven’t told me about you.”
I gulp the rest of my coffee wishing it was alcohol, but I never touch alcohol or drugs. “My ma, is, was, an alcoholic. She was like Jonesy’s ma, passed out on the couch or using me as her own personal punching bag. She’d get angry when pa hadn’t left money for booze and take it out on me. Pa was an alcoholic too and to get the money for booze, he supplied drugs to the neighborhood. I was his punching bag too. No matter where I hid, he always found me. I remember, one night he came into my bedroom, I was about ten. He was pissed because his supplier had watered down his drugs or some such shit and his customers had beat on him. He dragged me out of bed and beat me up so bad, I spent four days in hospital.”
“God, Ham. How did you survive? Did they take you away from the assholes?”
“No. They let me go home because ma and pa said they’d go to counselling. They never did and no-one cared that they never did. Pa never beat me bad enough to put me in the hospital again. They told me I was worthless. Wouldn’t amount to anything. Would end up dealing and doing drugs. They admitted they hated me. I believed I wasn’t worth anyone’s love.”
Wade’s up and pacing. I can see the anger bubbling in him. “When did you leave?”
“One night when I was thirteen, Pa came home and I heard him talking to Ma in the kitchen. He said he’d been offered a lot of money if he made me available for some men to play with. I saw him show Ma a wad of cash he said was an advance. I knew what “play” meant and there was no way I was gonna be a fuck toy for diseased, sleazy men. I climbed out my bedroom window and left. I hid out here on the streets of the city. I met an old lady who used to bring me food and books every day. I studied hard and when I was old enough I applied for Chef School.”
“Why the fuck did you return to the neighborhood?”
“I don’t know. I went back to see if Ma and Pa were still there but they’d taken off years before. He’d probably be at the bottom of the harbor for not supplying me to whoever paid him the advance. I saw the apartment for rent, went in and applied.” I shrug my shoulders because I have no idea why I went back to living there.
Wade kneels in front of me and pulls me into his arms. I see sorrow in his eyes, not pity. I couldn’t stand it if he pitied me.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He cups the back of my head and pulls me in for a long, passionate kiss. Tears roll down my cheeks. I feel as if I’ve been released from the horrors of my childhood. It feels good to have told him.
I deepen the kiss and my cock dances in my jeans. Not this time though. My time fucking Wade is over. Do I regret it? No fuckin’ way. For the first time in my life, I feel loved. Cared about. The fact it’s by another man don’t mean shit. Maybe, just maybe, I can begin to like myself now. I matter. I’m no longer no good. No longer nothing. Wade has changed my life and given me a future.
***
I ride into the ’hood around 11am. My heart leaps into my throat when I see an ambulance outside Jonesy’s apartment block. There are more than forty apartments in his block but my gut tells me, something is wrong with either him or his mother. Dozens of people are gathered around the entrance.
I flick the stand out on my motorcycle at the same time I switch off the motor. I take off running, my helmet and gloves are ripped off as I run. A burly cop is at the entrance to the building and he attempts to stop me from passing.
“My kid is in there,” I yell in his face.
“Which apartment?”
“Twenty Eight.”
“Get up there.”
He stands aside and lets me through. Now I know something is very wrong. I take the steps two at a time. My heart is racing. If something has happened to Jonesy, his mother had better be dead because if she’s not, she will be by the time I’m finished with her.
There are police everywhere outside the apartment door and I hear the kid screaming for someone to let him go. I push aside the cops who try to stop me entering and burst inside.
Some woman has hold of the kid and is trying to take him somewhere. He’s screaming and fighting her. I sprint to him and scoop him into my arms. He buries his head into my shoulder. His scrawny arms clamp around my neck.
“I knew you’d come for me.” He’s sobbing hard. His little body is shaking violently. I run my hand up and down his back.
“Who are you?” The woman who’d had hold of him glares at me.
“I’m his Pa so keep your fuckin’ hands off him.” I have no idea why I said that. Maybe it was something protective in me.
“What the fuck happened?”
“It appears your wife has taken a drug overdose. I’m sorry, she’s dead.”
“She’s not my wife.”
“I thought….”
“I’m his Pa, we’re not married.” I hope like hell, Jonesy’s birth certificate doesn’t have his pa’s name on it or we’re both in deep shit.
“What’s the child’s name? He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Steven Jones,” Jonesy says.
The woman makes a note of the kids’ name. “How old are you?”
“Seven.”
She scribbles in her notebook again before looking at me.
“What’s your name, where do you live and contact number?”
I give her my name, address and phone number then watch as she purses her lips and frowns. Bitch.
“If you live so close by, why is the child so poorly cared for?”
“Ma wouldn’t let him do anything for me. Pa helped when he could.”
I feel my eyes widen slightly. The kid is a convincing liar. Growing up in the ’hood you have to be to survive.
“I’ll be caring for him now. I’ll be finding somewhere decent nearer to the city and he’ll attend a good school. I’ll be taking him to stay at a friend’s place with me until we can move. I’ll also take him out for new clothes and shoes.”
The woman seems satisfied. She hands me a card and says she will monitor Jonesy’s care. She says she wants to ensure he’s taken care of properly. Right, where was the bitch when he wasn’t being fed? Where was she while his mother was drinking herself to death? She’ll be like all the others. No-one cares about these kids but Jonesy has me now and I’m not letting him grow up like I did. He’ll know he’s loved. He’ll know he’s someone.
***
I’ve given the cops my details and Wade’s address in case they want to get hold of me. I know they won’t. I hold Jonesy on my hip with one hand, my helmet and gloves in the other, and head for my apartment. I grab my bag from the back of my motorcycle on the way.