Oscar spooky diaz's Arc

Chapter 5 of 8

The paint was still drying on the front sign when Oscar opened the doors for a soft trial run. Sadeyes ran the dish pit in back. Oscar worked the stove, watching every face that came through the glass. He needed a second pair of hands out front, someone to greet guests and run plates. He needed the right one. The wrong one could be sent to listen. She came in near noon. A young woman with paint-flecked jeans and a folded resume already in her hand. She didn't wait to be seated. She read the empty room fast, then walked straight to him at the counter. "You hiring, or just testing the ovens?" she asked. "I saw the sign go up this morning." Oscar had never seen her before. He knew Freeridge. He knew who ran with the Santos, who owed them, who feared them. She fit none of it. That was the thing that made him look twice. "Name," he said. "Marisa." She set the resume on the counter. "I bus tables at a diner two towns over. I can carry six plates. I don't drop them." Oscar studied her the way he studied everyone. He watched her hands, still on the counter, not fidgeting. He watched her eyes, which held his and didn't slide away. He asked why she left the diner. "Boss shorted my checks," she said. "I got tired of counting money that wasn't there." No lie moved across her face. No small twitch. Oscar had turned two men away for less. He'd built his whole hiring plan around one rule: keep the danger visible, hire people whose ties he could see. Marisa had no ties he could see at all. That should have scared him. Instead he found he wanted her to stay. Sadeyes leaned out from the back, wet hands dripping. "She any good? 'Cause I'm not running food and washing dishes both. My feet already hate me." "Shut up and rinse," Oscar said. Sadeyes grinned and ducked back. Marisa didn't flinch at the gang chain on Sadeyes or the hard set of Oscar's jaw. She looked around the room like she already saw where the salt shakers went. "I open early," Oscar said. "You show up late once, we're done." "I've never been late in my life." He slid an apron across the counter. It matched the one Sadeyes wore. "Wash your hands. Twice. Then learn the tables." She tied the apron fast and got to work. Oscar turned back to the stove. He had a floor crew now. He had a woman he couldn't read a single lie into, which meant he couldn't read her at all. Every worker before this he had chosen by what he could see. He had chosen Marisa by something else. He didn't have a word for it yet. He only knew he'd broken his own rule, and he was glad he had.