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The café before Randy’s arrival was a different place. We served simple pastries, sandwiches, salads, and usually closed by 6 p.m. Everything changed when he took charge.
I recall Randy’s first staff meeting vividly. He gathered all eleven of us in the break room after hours and announced in a no-nonsense tone that things were going to change. He caught me rolling my eyes at his declaration and gave me a sharp scowl. But my resistance to his new management style didn’t end with just an eye roll.
“We’re going to serve real food here,” he said.
I couldn’t help but raise my hand, which earned me a warning glare from him before he said, “Yes…” The tone in his voice beckoned me to introduce myself.
“Gina,” I responded, my voice laced with a hint of chill.
“What’s your question, Gina?” he asked, echoing the iciness in my tone.
“Are sandwiches, salads, and pastries not real food?”
His gaze intensified, locking with mine. “Is that a rhetorical question you’re asking there, Gina, or a hostile one?”
“Both,” I admitted, standing my ground.
Randy remained still for a moment, observing me intently, undisturbed, with one foot casually resting on a step stool. What he was thinking during that silent standoff, only he could say. Eventually, he diverted his gaze from mine and continued with the meeting, brushing past my challenge as if it never happened. My defiance was partly fueled by the memories of our previous manager, Rex. Rex was the kind of manager who seemed only interested in his paycheck, often delegating his responsibilities to Sarah. She, being too kindhearted, never pushed back against his laziness. To this day, it puzzles me how Steve ever concluded that Rex was fit to manage a café.
Then, one day, Rex and Steve had a major confrontation right in the middle of the café, in full view of everyone, staff and customers alike. Rex lashed out at Steve, accusing him of potentially gambling the café away someday. In his tirade, Rex didn’t hold back, calling Steve a whiny liar and complaining about the low pay—all of which, unfortunately, held some truth. After Rex stormed out and quit, no one stepped in to fill his shoes. Sarah, with her dedication and efficiency, ran the café flawlessly, yet Steve seemed oblivious to her efforts. That’s why I was initially upset when Randy arrived, seemingly sidelining Sarah by taking over her duties and demoting her to the role of a cashier.
“We’ll be offering the celebrity chef menu,” Randy declared to the room.
Without hesitation, my hand went up again, and from the look on Randy’s face, it seemed acknowledging me required a monumental effort on his part. “Yes, Gina.”
My confusion was genuine as I asked, “Who’s the celebrity chef?”
“He’s the celebrity chef,” Pete chimed in, unable to hide his annoyance at my question.
Feeling somewhat rebuked, I slowly retracted my hand, swallowing the next question that had been on the tip of my tongue.
I remained silent, albeit with difficulty, as Randy outlined his plans to introduce two three-course entree options during dinner hours and two unique “elevated” American cuisine dishes for lunch.
“Elevated?” My voice dripped with skepticism as I crossed my arms, clearly unimpressed.
“Gina, come on,” Steve interjected, his irritation evident.
I had almost forgotten he was even present; his appearance at staff meetings was rare. Reflecting on it, he looked exhausted, as if sleep had been elusive for days.
Yet my frustration was at a boiling point. A significant part of my irritation stemmed from Randy’s inexplicably attractive presence—it was almost unfair how good-looking our new boss was, making me think he belonged in Hollywood rather than here. So I didn’t let up, especially when Randy mentioned that our in-house dining approach wouldn’t change, despite the introduction of “elevated” food.
“It’s a give and take,” he suggested.
“I don’t even know what that means,” I countered impulsively.
His response came with a curious tilt of his head. “It means, Gina, that we’ll be offering pricier menu options but with lower operational costs.”
Unsatisfied, I tilted my head, bracing for a confrontation. “But won’t that mean more profit? Unless your plan is to increase revenue at the expense of the staff’s workload.”
The silence that followed my challenge was telling; not a single murmur or sigh broke the quiet. The tension in the room was thick, and you could hear a pin drop as everyone waited for Randy’s response.
When Randy glanced at Steve, I immediately grasped the underlying message. Steve’s gambling issues weren’t a secret, and the look of concern on Randy’s face wasn’t lost on me. He was here with a purpose—to turn the café’s finances around swiftly. While Randy would never openly admit it, it was clear that Steve’s debts, likely to some unsavory characters from Boston, were a pressing issue. The kind of men who would come looking for Steve at the café were not the sort to engage in pleasantries. Their avoidance of eye contact wasn’t out of shyness but a deliberate attempt to keep their dealings cold and impersonal.
“Forget it,” I finally conceded, dropping my arms. “Go on.”
Randy paused for a moment, giving me a look that felt like a silent thank-you for easing up on him. Yet I could tell he was still keeping a close eye on me. The very next day, my habitual Wednesday lateness got me summoned to his office for a talk about how important it is to be punctual. We ended up in a heated debate, the tension between us like the north and south poles of magnets. It was as if there was this strange, intense pull drawing us together, almost pushing us to act on it right then and there—and we almost did.
Frankly, not much had changed between Randy and me until Sunday night. Our tender time together stretched into the wee hours of Monday. That night, our connection deepened in a way I hadn’t anticipated. We made love with a gentle, unhurried intensity, clinging to each other as if letting go was unthinkable. When we weren’t lost in the slow rhythm of our bodies, our kisses filled the spaces between, their depths making me dizzy. I found myself memorizing the feel of his skin under my lips, covering every inch of his face and neck with kisses, and he reciprocated with equal fervor. The truth was, neither of us wanted to break that bond. Neither of us wanted to be separated from the intimate closeness we’d unexpectedly found in each other.
