Redemption - Garrett Leigh Page 0,7

the grill and fired up the tea urn. Loaded the bread baskets and counted the float in the till. There wasn’t much there, fifty quid, maybe more. Pennies to most people, but with nursing home fees to pay, it meant the world to Paolo. What would he tell Toni if Luis turned out to be casing the place for his crew? If he came back tomorrow morning to find it all gone?

The ridiculousness of it left Paolo shaking his head. Of all the businesses the Moss Farm gang could turn over, Toni’s Cafe was hardly prize pickings. What were they going to do? Flog Formica tables from the back of their mopeds?

Not that any gang member with Luis’s standing rode a moped. Nah. The top boys cruised the streets in blacked-out Audis, there for all the world to see, and yet invisible at the same time. Sometimes they drove up and down the high street, slow and steady, music rumbling so deep it made the cafe windows shake. Paolo had never paid them much attention, but he couldn’t help wondering if they’d come looking for Luis one day. They’re not coming in my place. But the truth was, there was little Paolo could do to stop them, and more doubts swept over him, settling with the conflict already raging in his gut. Toni had counselled to give Luis a chance, and fate had crossed their paths twice since then. But what about common sense? What about the logic screaming that Luis Pope was nothing but trouble?

“What time do you open?”

“Hmm?” Paolo startled, frozen with ten slices of bread in each fist. “What?”

Luis took a step closer, then seemed to change his mind. “It’s six o’clock and there’s people outside. I was wondering when you open.”

Paolo threw a glance at the clock on the wall. Six o’clock. Shit. He dumped the bread in the baskets and reached for his apron. The keys were by the till. He tossed them to Luis. “We open now. Unlock the door, will you?”

Luis sloped off to the door. He unlocked it and held it open for the first customers of the day. He hadn’t looked at Paolo much since their first encounter the day before, but it was hard to miss the way his gaze slid to the floor as the early birds filed in. His hair fell over his face, hiding the chiselled good looks and mean mug that made him look like the road man Paolo judged him to be. For a moment, he seemed to shrink into himself, and an odd urge to cross the cafe and brush his hair back swept over Paolo, a prickly heat that made his skin tingle. What the actual fuck? I need coffee, man. I’m losing my mind.

Paolo retreated to the grill. Luis joined him. “What do you need me to do?”

“Bus tables, rinse stuff and stick it in the dishwasher. Clean anything that gets dirty.”

“That’s it? Who’s going to serve and cook?”

“Me.”

“All of it?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

Luis didn’t seem worried. If anything, he looked relieved, but there was no time to ponder it. A line formed at the till. Paolo took orders as fast as he could manage and lined them up over the grill. Bacon hit the hot bars, sausages sizzled over the flames, and the scent of Toni’s famous fried breakfast filled the cafe. The hours flew by. Luis bussed tables like a pro while Paolo grilled too many rashers of bacon to count and didn’t burn a single slice of toast. I could get used to this.

Around eleven, the breakfast rush died off. Paolo made two final plates of food and carried one out the back to where Luis was working the dishwasher. “Take a break.”

Luis didn’t answer.

Paolo sighed and tapped him on the shoulder. “Take a—”

Luis whirled round, arms raised. His elbow connected with the plate and set it flying across the room.

It clattered into the wall. Egg yolk and plate fragments slid down the old paint in slow motion, and it took a second for Paolo to realise Luis’s elbow had been meant for his face. “The fuck?”

He shoved Luis back. Luis hit the dishwasher with a metallic thud, and a spark lit his eyes. Anger. But in a split second, it was gone, and horror replaced rage. His gaze darted between Paolo and the broken plate, and he cringed. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you coming.”

“How could you not hear me coming?” Paolo snapped.

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