“Thanks, Jas.” I nod, then head into the kitchen to check on the staff.
Carla and Duncan are managing the lunch orders just fine. The controlled chaos calms me, and it’s hard not to think back to the kitchen at the old Papa Gino’s place. What I wouldn’t do to expand my business. Make it bigger, better. I love this crusty old location, but after six years here, the lure of something new does have some appeal.
But I watch my kitchen run like a tiny but tight machine, and I say a little prayer of thanks for what I do have. I have so much. Someday I’ll get my shit together and can maybe dream about more. But until I’ve earned it, this is Benito’s. This is me.
I make my way down the back hallway toward my office, where I find the door open, Mags sitting in the same chair in front of my desk where she was before. She jumps to her feet when I walk in.
“Mags,” I say, not able to stop the scowl from covering my face. “I thought you wanted some time off.”
She nods, and her face looks pale, her eyes puffy. “I did. But I didn’t want to leave things where they were yesterday. Benny, I don’t want you to fire me. And I don’t want to leave.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Mags, I’m not the one who started all this shit. You’re the one who’s unhappy. What do you want from me? You want a job? You got it. But I’m not going back to—”
She holds up a hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I know. I’ve been out of line. It’s not anything you’ve done or anything you’ve done differently. It’s just…” She looks at me through her lashes, lowering her head. “A couple weeks ago, a city guy came out toread the gas meter and made a really shitty comment about you. About you not paying your bills.”
A flood of anger flows through my limbs. “Who was it?” I ask. “Did you talk to the guy? Get his name?”
She shakes her head. “He was new. I’ve never seen him before, and I was so stunned, I didn’t know what to say.”
I think about this for a second. “Where did this happen? Where were you when he said this?”
Mags looks down at her hands. “He was at the bar. After he read the meter, he ordered lunch to go. I threw some extra focaccia in for him and thought I’d do something nice, you know, his being a city worker and all. I brought it out to him, and as I was handing it over, he made that shitty comment.”
My blood is boiling. “Who else heard him? He said this in front of customers?”
Mags’s face goes pale. “Yeah. Lunch rush. Jas heard, and Sassy for sure. I don’t know how many diners, but it was pretty awkward.”
I slam my ass into my seat, wondering how long I’d get locked up for beating the shit out of a city worker. There’s probably an extra penalty for crimes like that, but maybe in my defense, I could claim he was damaging my business’s reputation.
“Fuck,” I sigh, the anger suddenly draining out of me.
As I think back on the last few weeks, I start piecing it all together. I let the delivery guys go and have been doing a lot more work myself. Sassy and Jas whispering on their breaks. A new restaurant coming to town, even if it’s not open yet. Mags probably saw the writing on the wall. Benito’s is in trouble, even I refused to see the signs.
“So, that is what all this has been about?” I ask. “You’re afraid I’m about to go under?”
Mags shrugs. “I didn’t know, not for sure. But you’re so goddamn stubborn, Benny. You don’t let anyone in. I’ve been here with you for years now, years of my life. Day in, day out. You call me your right hand, yet I don’t know anything about the business. Nothing real. If we were in trouble, I’d probably be the last one to know.” She meets my eyes, a challenge in her look. “If something was going on here, something serious, would you tell me first? Or would I be the last to know because you’d need me more than everybody else?”
I rub my eyes, and it hits me. She’s right. I’ve been an arrogant, selfish bastard to the people who most deserve my trust. And it’s all because I’m scared. Scared they will leave me once they know the truth. That one crack in the facade and the whole goddamn place will fall down around my feet.
“You’re right about so many things, Mags,” I tell her. “I need help. Benito’s is not in trouble. I’m in trouble. I’m overwhelmed. I’m shit at paperwork and staying organized and creating a budget.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to ask for help because I don’t want to admit that I’m a failure. This place is my life. It’s all I ever wanted. What kind of man am I if I can’t run this place myself?”
Mags laughs. “You’re a typical man,” she scoffs. Then she leans forward in her chair. “Benny, it’s not a sin to ask for help. Look at you and all the people you help. Rita, for one.” She presses her lips together and looks pained. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about Rita yesterday. I’ve been feeling like an asshole about it. She’s a great lady, and the customers love her. But you’re the person who gave a very old lady the only job in town she could get. Why? Because she’s good for the business? No. Because you can help her. That’s the kind of man you are, Benny. Yes, you’re arrogant and cocky and all the rest, but you’re also a truly good, good person. I wouldn’t want to work for anyone else.”
She leans back in her chair. “I’m sorry I haven’t dealt with any of this well. But I’d like to stay. I’d like to take on more responsibility. I’ll do the books, or I’ll just set up your bills on autopay. Whatever you want. I don’t need to make more money, not at first. Can you try giving me more responsibility, and if it works out, can we talk about a bigger role for me here?”
I sigh. “I’m not going to make it easy on you,” I admit. “I’m stubborn, and I hate being told what to do.”
“Don’t I fucking know it,” she chuckles. “And yet, I’m here. And it’s technically my day off.”
I think about Willow. About the fact that she’s only here for a year. How I have a ticking clock and want to spend every minute of the time we have together. Making whatever we have work so that she is sure what we have is real. Because even now, with Mags in my office, a restaurant full of customers, and a kitchen I really need to get into, my thoughts are of Willow. My body misses her. Wants her. Can’t wait to get home to her.
And then, of course, there’s my family. More help with my work means more time with them too. It’s a win-win. That just means that I actually have to do it. Open up to someone. Admit the things I suck at. I have to be okay with failing. Because if I let Mags take over or even just pitch in with parts of my business, I have to accept that it’s because I can’t do it all.
I know it’s true.
It’s about time I get honest about it.
“All right,” I tell her. “You want a title and a pay raise; you’ll need to show me we have the money for that. And I’m going to let you write up the job description, figure out the schedule, all that shit. There’s a lot I’m terrible at, Mags. And you’re going to see the real mess I’ve made. That scare you?”
