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“Are you nervous?” Ronni swirls her champagne. Sips.
I don’t get a chance to answer. The entire restaurant reverberates with what sounds like a catastrophic crash next door. My entire body goes into fix-it mode. I run to the secret room located at the back of the dish pit. I press my ear to the wall. Look back at Alex and Ronni, who’ve followed me back here. “This is a hidden door to the green room. We’re planning on using it for catering big shows.”
For the most part, the main showroom of The Mission is soundproofed. The green room on the other side of this door is where LTZ is set up tonight. My assumption is the guys are messing around and knocked something over. The noise is somewhat of a design flaw, though. Gus won’t get a Michelin Star if sounds from that room can be heard in the dining area.
I mean, fights and band shenanigans aside, I’ve fucked Zane in the dressing room a time or two. I guess my staff might have heard something they shouldn’t.
But, no one wants to hear that when they’re enjoying a three-hundred-dollar tasting menu.
I press on the button above the keyhole. Nothing. Goddamn it. It occurs to me I did forget something tonight.
“Fuck.” I bang my fist on the door, hoping someone on the other side will hear me. “Zane has the master key. We haven’t gotten copies made yet.”
Ronni and Alex watch as I call Zane. No answer. I shove my phone back into my pocket. “Can either one of you ladies call your man? I don’t want to make a big scene by going through the side door, but it’s kinda crucial for me to know what’s going on.”
Both of the ladies pull out their phones and make calls. No answer.
Now fear prickles my neck. This isn’t good. What the fuck happened over there? My entire Gus staff is gathered around just standing there. Waiting.
“Fuck.” I shake my head. Nothing is going to derail tonight. I’ve got to take control. I’m about to call out an action play when the sounds of Ty screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs are followed by the distinct sounds of fighting. I hear Zane yelling. It’s absolute mayhem on the other side of this wall.
For a moment, I feel paralyzed in fear. Crime in Seattle is at an all-time high. What if someone is holding them at gunpoint? What if Zane’s in danger?
Ohmygod. Nothing, and I mean nothing is more important than my husband. I’m a fucking leader. I’ve got to lead.
Now.
“Justice. Petra. Daire. Gather the brigade into the staff lounge. Stay there until I say otherwise.” I deliberately keep my voice calm. Like I’m calling out orders during service. Everyone immediately snaps into action.
Slowly and methodically, I walk back to the door where Alex and Ronni stand with their ears pressed against the panel. I’m so fucking pissed I can’t get in that way. I’m not sure if it’s dangerous to go out the front. Or the back, for that matter.
Connor’s low voice booms through the wall. He’s shouting at the top of his lungs, but we can’t make out what he’s saying.
“What the fuck is happening?” Ronni loses her shit at the sound of her husband’s voice.
Before I can stop them, Alex and Ronni take off running though the restaurant and out the front door. Shit. I’ve got to go with them. I’ll suss what’s happening. Sort shit out. Get back on track. My team is safe in the staff room. Until I know what’s what, I refuse to allow any more negative thoughts into my head. Time is of the fucking essence.
The second we’re out the door, I hear sirens in the distance. Lots of them.
Oh, God. This is bad.
I join the ladies at the front door of The Mission. Thank God the social post isn’t live, or this place would be a madhouse. We all pound on it in between frantically texting and calling the guys. No one is answering.
Ironically, Zoey’s texting Alex. She’s almost here and has no clue what she’s coming into.
“Let’s just go around to the loading dock.” I motion to Alex and Ronni. We jog around the building to a sight no business owner should ever see.
Five police cars scream into the back parking lot, followed by two ambulances. They burst into the building through the roll-up door. I catch a glimpse of a bunch of people standing around like zombies. I catalog whether they belong. Crew. Staff. Opening bands.
No one stands out. My mind spins into a little bit of a vortex as I take it all in. Not understanding what’s happening. Not quite sure I want to.
All of the weight of the past year and a half catches up to me when I realize there will be no opening night tonight. Everything I’ve worked so hard for has gone up in flames. I can’t help but sob at the fear and the anger.
I call Zane. Then Carter. Zane. Then Carter. No one is picking up. I’m out of my mind with worry about my husband. My father-in-law.
Also, self-pity. In this moment, it feels like no one gives ashitabout me.
Your mom was right, you fucking idiot.
