SURROGATE FOR THE MAFIA LORD
e
en, my mind spinning with the weight of the phone call. A million dollars. It felt like some cruel punchline to a joke I didn't understand. My stomach twisted as
ad days. But today, they tasted like ashes in my mouth. Even my milkshake-a creamy orange Creamsicle blend-had lost its usual appeal, the condensati
ental treatment could save him. But the price tag felt like an insurmountable wall. I'd barely been scraping by as it
mething bot
he middle-aged waitress had been a steady presence in my life these past two years, offering comfort and u
ck of a phone call," she
y go-to for venting about life's misfortunes. She had a knack for listening without judgment and
" I muttered,
ting her free hand on her hip. "Forgive me for saying so, but you look like
ll a groan from me, but I shook my head aga
slid into the booth across from me. Her presence felt stea
eight of it all was too much to keep bottled up. "It's ab
diately. She nodded for me to co
ental treatment I tol
that fancy G
ng it into the ketchup more out of h
th cautious hope. "Ren
felt at the beginning of the phone call came rushing back, f
opping the fry onto the plate
ed, confuse
th frustration. "It's 'experimental,' so they can just wri
ropped. "A mi
I can for his physical therapy and care facility, but it's not enough. Unless Donald suddenly decides to give me
l. "You deserve a raise," she said firmly. "
e around here, it's you," I said, trying to inject some levity into the conv
Baldy at the counter starts a riot over his empty coffee cup." She gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze
back, my face fell. Hope felt cruel, distant, unattainable. Not for me. Not since the
piraling thoughts. My stomach dropped wh
sharp voice barked
until one today," I
ven," he snapped. "The reference sectio
l handle it when I get there. Did Professor
aid, irritation clear in
He hu
able to cover the bill and tip, then grabbed my untouched fries and milkshake and dumped them into
until I collided with him. Hard. My tote bag slipped off m
said, kneeling t
ice calm and deep. "No, it's my
unning. Sharp blue eyes, red-gold hair, and
ed, a small smile t
pping?" I asked, r
y. You weren't ex
my books, but as I stood, I stumbled, my foot catching on somethi
d somehow, our faces ended up close-too close. Then, as if the
oft. Un
face flaming. "That was an accid
ver. "If that was an accid
..." I trailed off, shakin
t but firm. "I'll give you $2
ng to face him
tion goes well..." His lips curved into a faint smile. "I