For the thirtieth time, I straighten the same stack of cups before the mayor finally gets up from his table. And I stay focused on the cups until I hear the front door open and close.
His presence has never bothered me before. I didn’t even know who he was the first few times that he came in while I was working, but eventually I heard someone call him by his title and I put it together.
He always came off as friendly and nice, but that was before today, before I knew he knew Nero. And before I overheard him say he’s had his eye on me.
I suppress a shudder. I’ve googled him. I know he’s married. And I doubt his wife would appreciate his comments, because it sure didn’t sound like he was kidding.
And him knowing Nero…
A band wraps around my ribs, tightening until it’s hard to inhale.
I’m not a total idiot. I know Nero has to be… into some stuff. You don’t dodge the cops by climbing in through someone’s balcony if you’re not causing some sort of trouble. But even knowing that, I’ve always felt a sort of safeness with him. And I know it should be extra messed up that the night I left my door open for him, he magically appeared. Because that means he must’ve been watching. But it also means he didn’t cross that threshold again until I invited him. He came because I asked him to. And he took what I offered because I wanted him to.
None of that felt as wrong as him walking in here today and acting like I was a nobody.
Heat builds behind my eyes, and I catch myself sniffing against a tingling sensation in my nose.
I get that Nero wasn’t expecting the mayor to be here. It was obvious that they weren’t planning to meet. But he didn’t have to act how he did.
Not my type.
I’m just here for the food.
I blink rapidly, tipping my gaze up toward the ceiling.
Don’t you dare cry over him.
Needing to distract myself, I make my way around the table to clear off the dishes the two men left behind.
Jean approaches with a rag when I pick up the last item, and I move out of her way so she can spray down the table when I hear her grumble, “Damn mobster.”
A smile starts to form on my mouth, her usual cynical attitude about politicians amusing me.
That smile slips when I stop and think––
What if she was talking about Nero?
