Part 6

                                    

                                          
L
It's been three years since Romano gave me this job. The knife slams down on the cutting board as the thought hits me. I grab the carved meat and put it in the tub with the rest of the chunks.
I'm the butcher of a shop that rides the line of his territory. When Romano hired me to work here at Paul's Butcher Shop, I thought it meant something different. I thought it meant he was hiring me to be a part of his crew.
Now I know better; he just wanted to watch me. Train me, or maybe mentor me if he ever needed someone like me. The line of customers coming in for their packages distracts me and I glance up for a moment. Eddie, Paul's son, rings them up one by one. I stay in the back with a few other guys, processing all the orders and occasionally we have to stay here later, after closing hours.
Like when Romano has a special order.
Picking up the butcher knife, I slam it down with my teeth gritting together. This isn't his turf, but I'm not ready to start a war or gather an army against him. There's no one here to recruit, just the addicts who camp out behind the line of the highway that separates his area from Crescent Hills.
Most of the meat here is shipped off to God knows where. This place sees plenty of money come in and go out, but the numbers don't actually add up. We're just doing his bidding.
Still, I cut the fucking carcass up like I'm told, and stay on the right side of a would-be enemy while I have to.
I vaguely wonder how long that'll be. And when the time comes, which side I'll be on.
The bells hanging over the front door bells, two cheap bells that ding and then ding again as the door is open and closed quickly.
My gaze rises and goes back down, only to rise again with an unsettled feeling flashing through me, to take another look.
Jennie's not dressed to be out in public. She's in pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt with sneakers that aren't even laced like she couldn't get out of the house fast enough. Her hair's down and windblown.
"What the fuck is she doing here?" I mutter beneath my breath and drop the knife on the cutting board. Before I can even wipe my hands off, she's brushing past Eddie, ignoring him completely. She doesn't hesitate to go around the counter and make her way back here.
"Lisa," she gasps my name with a mix of relief and desperation.
My heart pounds harder as every man and woman in this place watches us. I can feel all their eyes on me as I keep my shoulders straight and head to the sink to wash my hands. I'm trying not to let her or anyone else see what I'm feeling deep down in my gut. This isn't a good look.
"I need you," Jennie speaks before the swinging door that separates the kitchen from the front of this small shop even closes.
The adrenaline pumps harder in my veins.
"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" I ask her although my gaze is focused on Eddie. I try to swallow but can't, so instead, I watch the water run down the drain before turning off the faucet and drying off my hands. She doesn't answer me, but she steps closer to me at the sink.
"What are you doing here?" I ask her in a harsh tone with no room for her to question how I feel about this shit. No one comes here. No one who knows any better. She should know better.
Her baby blues flash with something—shock, or anger—I'm not sure which. Her loose t-shirt nearly slips down her shoulder as she takes a step back. The place is silent save the exhaust fans as she takes a moment to look me up and down.
"I need you," she tells me honestly, with a sincerity that everyone could hear, even if only spoken in a whisper. She brushes her wavy hair behind her ear and moves her gaze to the vinyl floor of the kitchen, blinking away the emotions ravaging her. The muscles of her throat tighten as she wraps her arms around herself. "Do you have a minute?" she asks as if she didn't just run back here and disrupt everything while having no consideration for what she's doing. The type of danger she's putting herself into.