Reaching Hearts - Faleena Hopkins Page 0,1
the tray.
The room is quiet. They’re worried and nobody knows what to say. I want to do something, say something that will make them feel safe. I’m supposed to be the one in charge.
“You guys? Um…I just want to say how much it means to me that you’re here. You didn’t have to come. This obviously isn’t part of the job description.” I try to chuckle but the sound is false. “You’re on the clock and I will pay you, but aside from that – the fact that I’m not having to face this alone means so much to me.” I pause to work up the nerve to continue. I’m not so great at open shows of intimacy or vulnerability. “Well, I um… opening this bar with you and struggling together… and now you’re here with me during this, it’s a lot. It means a lot to me. I feel like you guys are not just my employees – you’re my friends. So, thank you.”
“We are your friends.” Laura tosses her purse on the bar like she’s just said the most obvious thing in the world.
“You don’t have to pay us,” Taryn adds.
“Oh shush. People get paid for work. This is labor, not a company picnic.” They smile. “Beside, the give/take of energy is important, and money is just green energy. It’s not take/take. There’s a balance.”
Manny heads for the bar, “Well, let’s get going!”
I throw a last long glance at the floor before joining them. Brendan’s jacket gets set on the bar, but I can’t seem to let go of it. I call out to Manny, “Hey Captain Gung Ho, how about pouring us some beers?”
All three of them cheer loudly, which makes me smile. I’m trying hard to loosen up. “You guys can drink as much you want to – as long as I can drink double that!”
Laura beats on the bar like a drum and Taryn swings her hips in a solo dance, singing, “We neeeeeed music!” She pulls her bag off her shoulder and digs in, producing an iPhone with a bohemian-style case. “Oh you guys are going to love me for this.”
I get a push broom from the storeroom and land a smile on the rows of bottles as soon as I see them. Less money to claim for insurance means lower rates. Thank God they didn’t get stolen last night. I guess the police tape was a deterrent. And who knows how long they were here, rubbing for prints and picking up evidence.
Taryn selects a playlist, hits a button, and calls out, “Okay Annie. This is A-Punk by Vampire Weekend. Upbeat and perfect.” She’s not lying.
Five minutes later a police officer appears on the other side of the shattered window. He scans our faces and lands on mine, recognition evident. “Good afternoon, Ms. O’Brien.” He steps over the frame and walks on the glass as everyone watches.
I lay the broom down and walk to meet him halfway. “Taryn, could you turn the music down for a second?”
“Sure, Annie.” She lowers the volume, exchanging looks with the others.
He nods to my staring team. No one’s hiding curiosity. He’s a beefy dude, over two hundred pounds and about 5’10,” with a bulbous nose and smaller eyes. I don’t recognize him, but I know he must have been there from the familiar way he looks at me, and he’s holding my lost purse. “You’ve got a lot of glass to clean up.”
With a quick glance to the floor, I nod. “Yeah. It looks harsher in the daytime.” I motion to my purse. “You found it. Thank you. Is my phone in there, too? And did you find any prints on the door handle?”
His eyes say no before his mouth does. “Your phone is in here, yes, but no prints on the door. He must have wiped them off. We think he wasn’t a first-timer.”
“His hand wasn’t shaking.”
He takes this in. “We’ll need you to come down and file a report.”
“Of course. Can I do it after we’re finished here?”
He pauses. “I think that’ll be fine. We didn’t find prints but there was blood on the ground where he was shot. How did you get the gun from him?”
I explain it, with everyone listening. The police officer’s blown away, but I’m not feeling particularly proud of myself.
“Impressive.”
I shrug.
“You should take credit where credit is due. We could not be having this conversation right now.”
He means I could be dead. A fact that has never once escaped me.
“Yeah. I