Page 16 of The Bratva King

“Yes. Can someone pay me today?”

“You’re not fired.”

“I’m not?”

“Go home. Find a babysitter.”

I’m not fired. Thank fuck.

My head bobs up and down. “Yes, sir. I will. Thank you. I promise, I won’t do this again.”

“What’s his name?”

“Luke.”

“And you?”

“Me?”

“What’s your name?”

I point to my nametag. “Gabby.”

And then he’s gone. I step out into the hall and watch him walk away.

“Weird,” I murmur.

I go back into the room and turn off the TV. I kiss Luke’s forehead. “Let’s go, buddy.”

He slides off the couch, puts on his backpack, and dutifully follows me out of the casino and to my car. Once I get him loaded in, I sit in the driver’s seat for a moment with both hands on the wheel and just breathe.

I still have a job. I don’t know why, but I still have a job.

“Mama.”

“Yeah, buddy.”

“We’re out of chicken nuggets.”

I close my eyes. He’s right. I used the last of them two nights ago and told him I’d get more. But I didn’t because I didn’t make the tips I’d hoped to.

“I know,” I say. “We’ll stop.”

I pull out of the parking garage and head to the grocery store. I tally my tips in my head while I drive. A short shift meant few tips, but could I really tell my son that I can’t buy him a six-dollar bag of nuggets?

It’s fine. I’ll make it work. I always make it work.

In the grocery store, Luke walks beside me with his hand on the cart like I’ve taught him to.

“Hey. Hey, stop.”

I look around and see a guy watching me. I instinctively push Luke behind me. It’s been five years, but I will never stop looking over my shoulder.

“Me?” I ask.

He starts to walk toward me. My hand slips into my purse, and to the can of bear spray I keep. Greg told me to carry a gun, but I was too afraid to have it around Luke.

“Don’t I know you?” he asks.