“Booth. Corner,” he rumbled.
His voice sounded like gravel grinding in a cement mixer.
He walked past her, his heavy boots thudding against the linoleum, and slid into the booth directly opposite the one where Leo was sleeping. He placed a thick, leather-gloved hand on the table.
“Black coffee. A plate of whatever meat you’ve got back there, burnt to a crisp.”
“Yes, sir. Coming right up.”
Rebecca nodded, grabbing a fresh mug.
As she poured his coffee, she covertly glanced at his leather vest. The name stitched over his chest read Rooster.
David “Rooster” Henderson was a seasoned veteran of the club, a man whose reputation in the California underworld was forged in steel and silence.
But to Rebecca, tonight, he was just another paying customer.
When she brought his plate of over-well steak and eggs, she noticed something unexpected. Resting on the table beside his massive helmet was a small, dog-eared photograph.
It was faded, showing a much younger Rooster holding a tiny baby wrapped in a pink blanket. His thumb was gently rubbing the edge of the picture.
For a split second, the hardened outlaw looked impossibly fragile.
“Your total is fourteen fifty,” Rebecca said quietly, pretending not to see the photograph.
Rooster snapped out of his trance, pulling a worn leather wallet from his chain. He dropped a crisp fifty-dollar bill on the table.
“Keep it.”
“Sir, I can’t keep a thirty-five-dollar tip,” she said, her desperate financial situation instantly warring with her pride.
He didn’t look up from his plate.
“I said keep it, kid. Go buy the little boy over there a proper blanket.”
He nodded toward the back booth where Leo was tossing and turning in his sleep.
Rebecca felt a sudden lump in her throat.
“Thank you. Truly.”
She walked back to the counter, her fingers trembling as she slipped the bill into her apron.
It wasn’t enough to save her from eviction, but it was enough to buy Leo’s medication tomorrow. For the first time all week, a tiny sliver of relief pierced her overwhelming despair.
But the quiet of the graveyard shift is a fragile, deceitful thing.
And outside in the dark, trouble had just arrived.