Channing took off after coming. Literally.

But I wasn’t expecting him to stick around.

Once he turned his phone on, the barrage of texts and alerts started. A lot of people depended on him so…yeah…it wasn’t long until I saw his taillights.

It was still midday before I went to Manny’s, crossing the small gravel alley and back area to reach the rear door of the restaurant.

There were a few trees for shade and five or six picnic tables set up. It used to be our only outside seating area, but last summer we did a renovation and expanded a side sitting area in the front. Because of that, the back part wasn’t used as often anymore.

But it was occupied today, and I spied a bunch of high-schoolers there, though none who had dark, doe-like eyes, a long dark mane of hair, and a kick-ass attitude. No one whose name started with a B and ended with an n, and whose older brother had just left my bed.

No one that I knew wouldn’t have been blowing his phone up. Bren rarely texted and even more rarely called. I wasn’t sure if she carried her phone on her half the time.

Recognizing one, I weaved over to him. “Alex Ryerson.”

He was a punk kid and looked like the typical jock type, but I didn’t know if he was actually an athlete or not. He ran a crew in Roussou, and I knew he’d tangled with Channing’s sister on more than a few occasions.

He turned, and a lecherous sneer started to form.

I waved my hand. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it.” He usually had some pickup line.

Because I was talking to their leader, all other conversations stopped. Heads turned our way—even some of the kids I thought were from Fallen Crest.

Not to stereotype, but most people from Fallen Crest were rich. Or they were getting richer as I aged. Most kids from Roussou were not, and they wore a hardened exterior. It was in their eyes, the way they walked, even how they failed to react when violence came their way.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

A cocky smile spread over his face, and he held his arms out, stepping away so his back was toward the group. He raised his voice, letting them know he was speaking for them. “Hanging out. We got a week left. It’s still summer, Ms. Jax.”

I snorted. Cripes. Now he was calling me my mother’s name.

I looked at every single person. Oh yeah. I counted maybe eight girls from Fallen Crest—I could tell by the fear in their eyes—and the rest were Roussou.

“You all Ryerson’s crew?”

I knew the boys who hung out with Channing’s sister. They were not Ryerson crew. They’d been best friends since elementary and middle school; that was the way Roussou people were.

They weren’t here.

I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or worried.

Most of the crowd nodded in response to my question. The Fallen Crest girls edged away. Seeing their uncertainty and their second-tier fashion choices, I figured they weren’t from Fallen Crest Academy. That was the private school in town. The other school was Fallen Crest Public, where these girls likely attended, just like I had.

“Look,” I told Alex. “You guys start any fighting and you’re banned. You got it?”

“Of course, Ms. Jax—”

“I’m not fucking around, Ryerson. One fight and I’ll get a cop to park in this lot for his coffee breaks. Understand me?” I shifted closer, my eyes level and hard. But I didn’t need to do anything more than issue my threat.

He got it. His smirk faded and his tone changed too. “If we fight, we’ll leave. Promise.”

That was good enough for me, so I headed inside.

I’d gone two steps through the door before I heard my brother behind me. “You’re kinda all about banning people lately, huh?”

I threw him a glance but kept moving down the hallway to my office. “That was a high school kid slightly above being in a gang, and the other was your stalker. Are you really complaining?”

I pushed open the door to my office.

Brandon followed me in, shutting it as Suki, our day manager, rolled back from behind my desk. Her eyes lit up, and she almost jumped to her feet.

“Are you here for the day?”

It was obvious what she wanted.

Suki had first come to us a stand-in chef, but once I needed more and more help, she began taking over some other duties. Years had passed, and after we hired another couple cooks, she’d become our day manager.

And because I knew what Suki was really asking, I nodded. “Go ahead. Go forth and make gourmet magic, my Day Manager SparkleDust.”

She cocked her head to the side.

Suki liked cooking, but she was the furthest thing there was from a pixie.

She was built like a tank: short and muscular. She and Brandon had wrestled one night, and though he denies it, everyone saw her pin him. Short, black, spiked hair and the most sensible and environmentally friendly clothes (complete with hemp sandals and a bag made by orphans in Kenya)—she was our hippy-esque work family member. If she had a sense of humor, I hadn’t seen it yet, but I didn’t care.

She was one of mine. I take care of mine.

Which led me to say, “If you want a night off, go for it. I’m closing for Cruz tonight.”

Brandon perked up. “You closing for me too?”

“No.” I scowled. “I already did my sisterly duty for you this morning, and speaking of…”

I brought Suki up to date on my two ultimatums. We kept a Shit List in the drawer, and as I added their names, she grunted.

Oh yeah. There was one more thing about Suki.

“Suki saw that coming a long time ago.”

She spoke about herself in the third person. Almost all the time.

“Hey.” Brandon frowned at her. “I take offense to that.”

She pointed up at him, her head coming to just above his stomach. “You should. That girl had wacko eyes.” Her fingers made circles in the air beside her head. “Wacko.”

“Oh.” Brandon smiled sweetly down at her. “Like the ones you have right now?”

Suki growled. “Like the ones you about to have.”

This was going nowhere good. “Enough,” I barked out. “If you’re going to fight, do it out of my office.”

Brandon held up a finger. “We all use this office.”

I pointed to the card table set up in the corner and the three folding chairs resting next to it. “That’s your office. Not here, not when there are raised voices.”

“Um…” A new voice—a new soft voice, thank goodness.

I considered sending prayers up when I looked to the now-open door. Recognizing one of my senior servers, I rolled back my chair. “What’s up, Ava?”

She was in her senior year at Roussou, but she had earned her spot as one of my head waitresses. And everyone had a soft spot for her. How could you not? Always kind. Hardworking. A petite girl with wispy blond hair.

She wrung her hands. “We’re out of tomatoes and bacon.”

Suki held her hands up. “Cruz was in charge of inventory this week.”

She still should’ve checked everything, and I didn’t think he actually was in charge, but we had had a rush yesterday. I was surprised there wasn’t more we needed to pick up.

“Suki can do a list, see what else we need to get.” Yep. Third person.

“Thank you,” I told Ava. “I’ll run out to get some quick.”

“I can go.” Brandon raised his hand. “Bar’s not super busy right now.” He grabbed his keys. “How many do we need?” he asked Ava as he left, shutting the door behind him.

Suki had already ducked out, and once that door shut, I heard the sound I loved.

Dishes clanging.

People walking up and down the hallway, going to the bathroom, going to the back room, going outside.

The doors opening and closing.

The bell welcoming new customers through the front, thanking them on their way out.

Conversations. Laughter. A few shouts here and there.

It was the sound of a busy Manny’s.

I had a friend addicted to running, but living here, working here, being here—this was my obsession.