Chapter 2 - The Cost of Looking Away
The next morning, Emma arrived at six forty-five.
She expected to be fired.
She had spent the entire bus ride rehearsing what she would say.
Thank you for the opportunity.
I understand.
Can I please get my final paycheck today?
She needed the money.
Her younger brother, Noah, had community college tuition due Monday.
Her rent was late by six days.
And the transmission in her 2009 Corolla had developed a shudder that felt financially threatening.
Emma tied her apron, clocked in, and waited.
Nothing happened.
At seven ten, Colin asked her to bring coffee to the private office upstairs.
Emma stared.
“Why?”
“He asked for you.”
“Who?”
Colin gave her a look.
“Oh.”
Aleandro Romano.
Emma considered running.
Instead, she carried the coffee upstairs.
Aleandro stood near the window.
Rosa sat on the sofa wearing an ivory suit and enough quiet elegance to make yesterday’s worn coat feel like a different lifetime.
Emma stopped.
Rosa smiled.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.”
Emma set the coffee down.
Aleandro gestured toward a chair.
“Sit.”
“That usually means bad news.”
“Does it?”
“In hourly jobs? Yes.”
Rosa covered a smile.
Emma sat.
Aleandro placed three customer reports on the desk.
“Do employees treat people differently depending on what they wear?”
Emma hesitated.
He waited.
“You want the answer that keeps me employed or the useful one?”
“The useful one.”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“Enough.”
Colin shifted near the door.
Emma continued.
“Some customers get watched more closely. Some get seated near the entrance. People who look homeless are told the restroom is for customers even if they buy something. Teenagers get rushed. Older people get ignored when it’s busy.”
Aleandro’s jaw tightened.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Emma looked at him.
“Who?”
The question stopped him.
“Who exactly was supposed to tell you?”
“The manager.”
Emma glanced at Colin.
Colin looked miserable.
Emma softened slightly.
“Managers tell regional managers. Regional managers tell operations. Operations sends numbers. By the time the truth reaches someone like you, it’s usually called a customer-experience variance.”
Rosa laughed.
Aleandro did not.
But he looked impressed.
“Yesterday, my mother visited three cafés.”
“I gathered.”
“Two failed.”
Emma nodded.
“Your mother is intimidating even in a bad coat.”
Rosa smiled.
“Thank you.”
Aleandro pushed the reports toward Emma.
“I want you to tell me why.”
Emma blinked.
“Why what?”
“Why staff behaved that way.”
“I’m a waitress.”
“You notice people.”
“That is not the same as running an investigation.”
“I have investigators.”
“Then use them.”
“I will.”
He leaned forward.
“But investigators look for wrongdoing. You look for systems.”
Emma stared.
That sounded uncomfortably accurate.
“What are you asking me to do?”
“Spend one week visiting Romano locations with my mother.”
Rosa lifted her coffee.
“Disguised.”
Emma looked from mother to son.
“No.”
Aleandro’s eyebrows lifted.
“No?”
“I work here.”
“You’ll be paid.”
“How much?”
He named a number.
Emma sat back.
“That is manipulative.”
“It is compensation.”
“It is aggressive compensation.”
Rosa said, “Take it.”
Emma looked at her.
“You are not neutral.”
“No.”
Emma thought about Noah’s tuition.
The transmission.
Rent.
She hated that Aleandro could probably see the calculation.
“Five days,” she said.
“Seven.”
“Five.”
“Six.”
Emma narrowed her eyes.
Rosa murmured, “He negotiates when nervous.”
Aleandro looked at his mother.
Emma smiled.
“Five.”
He sighed.
“Fine.”
Victor Bellini entered before the meeting ended.
He was forty-one, silver at the temples, elegant, controlled.
Emma recognized him from photographs.
Aleandro’s consigliere.
Victor looked at her as though trying to decide whether she was furniture or fire.
“This is the waitress?”
Emma smiled.
“This is the man who says ‘the waitress’ while I’m sitting here?”
Rosa’s eyes brightened.
Aleandro rubbed one thumb against his coffee cup.
“Victor.”
Victor nodded once.
“My mistake. Ms. Carter.”
“Better.”
Victor placed a folder before Aleandro.
“Board numbers.”
He glanced at Emma.
“Private.”
Emma stood.
“Gladly.”
As she reached the door, Victor said, “Aleandro.”
Something in his tone stopped her.
She kept walking.
But heard enough.
“You’re letting a stranger into internal operations because she gave away soup.”
Emma paused outside the door.
Aleandro answered.
“I’m letting her observe cafés.”
“People like her see opportunities.”
Emma’s face went cold.
Aleandro’s voice hardened.
“People like her?”
Silence.
Victor corrected.
“Employees.”
Emma left before hearing more.
That afternoon, she and Rosa visited a location in River North.
Rosa wore ordinary clothes.
Emma wore jeans and a thrift-store jacket.
They ordered coffee.
Nobody mistreated them.
But Emma noticed something else.
A teenage dishwasher came from the kitchen holding his wrist.
The manager saw him.
Ignored him.
Emma watched.
The boy wrapped a towel around his hand and returned to work.
She stood.
Rosa caught her sleeve.
“Observe first.”
Emma looked at her.
“He’s hurt.”
“This is your son’s test?”
“No.”
Rosa’s voice softened.
“This is yours.”
Emma went to the kitchen.
The manager objected.
Emma ignored him.
The dishwasher had burned his wrist on a steam tray.
No first-aid kit was stocked.
The manager told him to finish the shift before leaving.
Emma photographed the empty cabinet.
Then asked the boy his name.
“Luis.”
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
The manager stepped between them.
“You can’t question staff.”
Rosa appeared behind Emma.
“Why not?”
The manager looked at Rosa’s coat.
“Ma’am, return to your table.”
Rosa smiled.
Then called Aleandro.
Ten minutes later, the manager understood the mistake.
By the end of the day, Aleandro had ordered safety audits across all cafés.
Victor called it overreaction.
Emma called it basic responsibility.
The disagreement became public at a management meeting that evening.
Victor sat across from Emma.
“You create liability every time you invite employees to complain.”
Emma stared at him.
“No. The liability exists before they complain.”
Several executives looked down.
Victor’s voice cooled.
“You think kindness runs businesses?”
“No.”
“What does?”
“Systems that don’t punish people for telling the truth.”
Aleandro watched her.
Victor noticed.
That was when Emma understood something dangerous.
Victor Bellini was not merely skeptical of her.
May you like
He was afraid of where Aleandro’s attention was going.
And she had no idea why.
