Chapter 7: Morning Rules

I put the bracelet on before I put on anything else.

Then I put on a robe, walked down the back stairs in bare feet, and found the restaurant kitchen warm and bright.

Raf stood at the big steel stove in his shirtsleeves, with a pot of coffee going and a skillet of eggs.

He had showered.

His black hair was wet and pushed back, and he looked about ten years younger than the man who ran Federal Hill.

Pio sat on an upturned milk crate by the back door, eating a roll.

"Morning," Pio said, around it.

"Where did it come from?" I held up my wrist.

"Table nine," Pio said, and brushed crumbs off his coat.

"She took it off to wave her hands at Craig. It sat by her bread plate when she stormed off."

"You stole it."

"I picked up what was yours."

I looked at Raf.

"It wasn't me," he said. "I would have asked your sister for it in front of the room."

"I know."

"I wanted you to know I'd have done it the clean way."

"I'm not sure there's a clean way," I said.

Pio put the roll down, said he would check the walk-in, and went out through a door that I had not known was a door.

The kitchen was very quiet.

Raf turned off the burner and set down the spatula.

"Rules," I said.

"I figured."

"I wasn't going to say it in the dark."

"Go ahead."

I leaned against the steel counter, with my arms crossed over my robe.

"Monday to Friday, you're my employer," I said. "I take your money for the books and you don't touch me in the office."

"Agreed."

"My apartment is mine. The door is locked unless I open it."

"Agreed."

"I'm not your girlfriend."

"Agreed."

"And it's not for Paola," I said. "If she walks into a room, I will not put my hand on you to make her look."

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