Chapter Twenty - Danny
At 7:00 p.m., while the dinner rush is still booming, it happens: I catch Michael slipping two fifties off one of Whitney’s tables into his back pocket.
Charlotte was right.
I walk up to him, trying to be discreet enough to not alert the customers.
“Want to explain what I just saw?” I ask.
Michael freezes. He looks at me and all the color drains from his face.
“I’m,” he starts but doesn’t finish. He clearly knows he’s been caught.
“Come to the back with me,” I say, “now.”
“Yes, sir,” Michael says, voice shaky, following after me quickly. I take him back to Hank’s office where Hank is writing out holiday schedules.
“What’s going on?” Hank asks.
“Empty your back pockets,” I say to Michael. I’m trying to stay calm and in control of the situation, to not let my old temper flare up. Michael pulls the cash out of his pockets, hands trembling.
“I’m so sorry, sir, I am. I was going to put it back, I was, honest. I was going to pay it back when I could, all of it, even add some extra for interest, but then I just kept needing more and more and didn’t have enough,” Michael says. His eyes are watering, and he looks like he feels sick.
“You’ve been stealing money from the restaurant?” Hank asks, face getting red.
“I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry,” Michael says, voice breaking.
“How much?” I ask. I hear the anger mounting in my own voice, but I hold myself back from shouting, fighting the old urges to let the situation escalate.
“A few thousand,” Michael admits, crying in earnest now, and I have to hold my hand up to stop Hank from a few furious interjections at that. “But it was for rent and doctor visits, I swear it was, nothing just for me. I had to, I had to. The food too. We needed it, but I was going to pay it back. Honest, I was. I thought you wouldn’t notice, that I could have it back before you noticed anything.”
“Doctor visits?” I ask, thinking about what Charlotte had observed earlier. Hank looks like he’s shaking with rage.
“My, my girlfriend—she’s pregnant. Her folks kicked her out when they found out, so it’s just us trying to take care of things, and I’m trying so hard to make it all work, to be there for her, but I—I'm so sorry,” Michael says, trailing off in tears.
“You stole from this restaurant? From what, if I remember right, is your first job ever?” Hank asks, and his voice sounds like it’s about to boil over. Michael nods miserably.
“I thought I could pay it back,” Michael says again. “We were gonna get evicted, in a week, and have to go to court and everything—”
“I don’t care about your excuses. That doesn’t give you the right—” Hank starts, but I put a hand on his arm to cut him off. I don’t think what this kid need is a lecture.
“Go wait right outside the office while we decide what to do,” I say to Michael, opening the door and pointing to a chair. “If you make a run for it, you can be sure we’ll call the cops.”
“Yes, sir,” Michael says, still crying.
“If he runs? If he runs?” Hank shouts once the door is closed. “You’d better believe me I’m calling the police right now!”
“Hang on, Hank,” I say, thinking.
“Hang on? For weeks you’ve wanted me to call the police about this, and now we have a confessed thief, and you want me to hang on?” Hank says, incredulous.
“He was trying to take care of the mother of his child. He didn’t set out to steal from us,” I point out. I keep thinking myself at that age, about the second chances I’d been given.
“Precisely how the hell does that matter?” Hank asks.
“Hank, you remember—at his age, I didn’t care about anyone but myself, and look how many second chances you gave me,” I tell him.
“Oh, come on. That was different,” Hank says, waving a hand.
“You’re right, it was. Because if I had been stealing it, it would have been for myself. Probably for beer money or something. Michael has a baby on the way and he’s trying to do the right thing,” I say. In a lot of ways, I think Michael is far more responsible than I was at his age, even if he’s going about demonstrating it all wrong.
“Well, you can’t do the right thing by stealing,” Hank says, but I think he looks like he’s deflating a little.
“I’m not saying he was right to steal—I’m just saying we don’t need to handle it by having him thrown in jail,” I say. I can’t imagine where I would have been without Hank allowing me to learn from mistakes instead of just suffering for them, and I feel like it’s the least I can do, repaying it by dealing with Michael in the right way.
“What are you suggesting?” Hank asks.
“We have to let him go, but we don’t have to get the police involved,” I say. Hank nods. He’s always been a forgiving guy, even if his temper blows up quickly.
“Alright, bring him in,” Hank says. I call Michael back in, texting Charlotte quickly as I do:
You were right. About everything. Couldn’t have done this without you. Tell you later.
“You, young man, are lucky Danny here intervened for you and reminded me how terrible he was at your age,” Hank grumbles, facing Michael.
“I was,” I nod and shrug. “And I was given a lot of second chances.”
“A lot of them by me,” Hank says. Michael is staring at us with wide, terrified eyes. “So we’re not going to call the police.”
“Thank you,” Michael says in a broken sort of whisper.
“We have to let you go, of course—but we’ll pay you for the rest of the week,” Hank says, nodding. Michael looks like he doesn’t know how to feel. I think to myself that it’s things like this that have made Hank my best friend all these years.
“I understand, sir,” Michael says, still red-eyed and sniffling. “Thank you for not calling the cops on me. I’m so sorry. I really am.”
“Now go get your things and head out,” Hank says, stern but without any anger behind it.
Michael gets up to leave, offering a few more apologies as he goes until he shuts the door behind him. Hank and I look at each other in silence. It feels like there is nothing else to say. I can’t quite believe the answer this whole time was a scared kid in trouble and not a conspiracy to bring the business down. I guess I’ve spent too much of my life thinking about advanced combat tactics to see the simple answer to things. It seems a little surreal to think the whole mess is over, and I know I have Charlotte to thank for it.
“You’re a lot nicer than you used to be,” Hank comments, looking over at me as we watch Michael gather his things from his locker. One of us needs to walk him out for a minute and collect his badge, but for now, we’re just watching.
“Eh, you were always this nice,” I say, putting my hands in my pockets. “Maybe it finally rubbed off.”
“Could be,” Hank says, then he frowns. “I should have listened to your concerns. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, shaking my head. “It’s all over now.”
“But it would have been over sooner if we’d done it your way,” Hank says, still looking apologetic.
“Charlotte figured it out, actually,” I admit. I feel a little like I’m testing the waters, bringing Charlotte up. Hank smiles.
“I kind of figured you told her,” Hank says. His grin is wide and genuine, with just a hint of a smirk, which makes me feel a lot more at ease about even more things.
Hank leaves the office to walk Michael out, and I text Charlotte again, feeling relieved and hopeful. Like maybe now that our mystery’s been resolved, we can finally solve a few things between us, too.