Chapter 2 - The Five-Hundred-Dollar Threat
Clara returned to work the next morning.
She should have rested.
Instead, she carried coffee.
“Table six wants pancakes!”
“Coming!”
“Clara, phone!”
She grabbed it between orders.
“Hello?”
Her landlord answered.
“Rent was due three days ago.”
“I know, Mr. Henderson.”
“You said Friday.”
“My brother was sick.”
“That doesn’t pay the mortgage.”
“I’ll have it.”
“When?”
Clara looked at her empty tip jar.
“Soon.”
She hung up.
That evening, another problem waited outside her apartment.
Donnie Rizzo leaned against the brick wall.
Cheap leather jacket.
Toothpick between his teeth.
“Clara.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Donnie.”
“You forgot something.”
“I didn’t forget.”
“Five hundred dollars.”
“I need until the fifteenth.”
“You said today.”
“Owen needed medication.”
Donnie glanced toward her apartment window.
A light was burning upstairs.
“Your brother?”
Clara stepped between him and the building.
“Don’t look at him.”
Donnie smiled.
“You borrowed money from people who don’t appreciate delays.”
“I’ll pay you.”
“Tomorrow.”
“I can’t get five hundred dollars by tomorrow.”
“Then we find another arrangement.”
“What does that mean?”
Donnie leaned closer.
“Collateral.”
Clara’s expression changed.
“Stay away from Owen.”
“Then pay.”
He shoved past her, knocking her shoulder against the wall.
“Tomorrow.”
Upstairs, Owen was studying at the kitchen table.
“You’re late.”
“Double shift.”
He frowned.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. Terrible is my signature look.”
Owen smiled.
Then he noticed her shoulder.
“What happened?”
“Walked into something.”
“A wall?”
“Very aggressive wall.”
“Clara.”
She opened the refrigerator.
“You hungry?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“I’m your legal guardian. That’s one of my constitutional rights.”
Owen watched her.
“You’re hiding something.”
Clara turned.
“And you’re supposed to be studying.”
He reluctantly looked back at his textbook.
Clara disappeared into her bedroom.
Only after locking the door did she allow herself to sit on the floor.
Five hundred dollars.
She had sixty-four.
Across the city, Marco Bianchi placed a folder on a penthouse desk.
Leo Salvatore had already left the hospital against medical advice.
“You’re supposed to be recovering,” Marco said.
“I recover better at home.”
“You nearly died.”
“And yet your personality remains my greatest suffering.”
Marco ignored him.
“Clara Hayes.”
Leo opened the folder.
A photograph showed Clara wiping a diner counter.
Marco began.
“Twenty-four. Orphaned. Legal guardian of her seventeen-year-old brother, Owen. Works approximately sixty hours a week.”
“Why?”
“Owen has serious medical expenses.”
Leo turned another page.
“No criminal history?”
“Nothing.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Connections?”
“None.”
Marco hesitated.
“Except Donnie Rizzo.”
Leo looked up.
“The Weasel?”
“She borrowed money from him after Owen needed medical treatment.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred.”
Leo stared.
Marco continued.
“Rizzo threatened the brother tonight.”
Leo’s face changed.
“He threatened a sick seventeen-year-old over five hundred dollars?”
“Yes.”
Leo closed the folder.
Marco asked, “Want me to handle Rizzo?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Leo stood despite the pain.
“Because this isn’t business.”
He picked up his coat.
“This is my debt.”
“Leo, you were shot three days ago.”
Leo headed toward the door.
Marco sighed.
“Where are we going?”
“To collect a five-hundred-dollar debt.”
Marco blinked.
“Collect?”
Leo looked back.
May you like
“Not hers.”
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