You Fired a Tech Genius novel · Chapter 6 of 32

Chapter 6: Her Apartment

Nobody in the store said hello back to him.

Braxton didn't seem to notice.

He walked down the center aisle, shaking hands with people who kept their hands in their pockets.

Two men in Hallett polos followed him and stood by the door.

"Friends," Braxton said. "I'll be quick. I came personally because Hallett Systems takes care of its family."

He found the grocer and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sir, I heard you were thinking about leaving us," he said. "I'd like to offer you a loyalty credit. Fifty thousand dollars, applied today."

One of the polo men held up a check.

A murmur went through the store.

"All you have to do is tear up whatever that woman had you sign," Braxton said, nodding toward Zoe without looking at her.

"And stay away from the man standing next to her."

"The thief," said the second polo man.

"I'd rather not use that word," Braxton said smoothly. "But the numbers have questions."

"The numbers don't," the grocer said, and tapped his tablet. "We just checked them."

"Did you?" Braxton smiled. "With him?"

I hadn't moved from my place beside the register.

"Sir," I said to the grocer. "The salesman who stood at your counter last night."

"Yes."

"Did he leave a number?"

The grocer frowned and took a business card out of his apron.

It had no name on it, only a mobile number written in blue pen.

"He said call it if I had any questions," the grocer said.

"Call it," I said. "On speaker."

Braxton's smile didn't move, but his eyes did.

"That isn't necessary," he said.

"It's one phone call," said the woman in the church hat.

The grocer dialed.

The silence in the store was the kind you can lean on.

Somewhere near the door, in the pocket of a quarter-zip that cost more than the register, a phone began to ring.

It played a saxophone solo.

It rang four times, loud, with the whole store looking at Braxton Hallett's hip.

Nobody laughed.

Then the stock boy by the collards snorted, and the whole store went with him.

"That's your number," the grocer said slowly. "That's your number, boy."

"This is a misunderstanding," Braxton said.

"The man you sent called my cousin a thief for you," the grocer said. "In my own store, with my staff listening."

"Sir, I would never..."

"Take your check," the grocer said, "and get out of my store."

The polo men looked at each other.

Braxton stood in the aisle with the phone still singing in his pocket and his cheeks the color of the canned tomatoes behind him.

He looked at me.

"You'll regret making a scene," he said, quietly.

"You were the scene," I said.

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