Chapter 3 - The Search Begins
By six o'clock that evening, the restaurant was empty of customers, but buzzing with activity. Nolan Price stood near the front window, shaking his head as he watched a crew of commercial locksmiths begin changing the deadbolts on the front doors.
"You realize," Nolan said, turning to Ethan, who was standing by the back kitchen doors with his hands in his pockets, "that you just bought a mid-tier neighborhood restaurant for three times its market value just to make a point."
"It's a good location," Ethan replied flatly.
"It’s an impulsive, melodramatic, wildly romantic gesture, Ethan. My God, if the board sees this line item on your quarterly personal investments, they’re going to think you’ve finally lost your mind."
"Let them think what they want." Ethan walked into the kitchen. It smelled of bleach, old grease, and roasted garlic. He looked at the stainless steel counters, the line cook station where the plate of food had been assembled, and the small employee bulletin board by the time clock.
Pinned to the board was a schedule. At the top, written in neat, elegant cursive, was her name: Marissa.
Ethan reached out and gently unpinned the paper, sliding it into his jacket pocket.
"We need to find her," Ethan said, turning back to Nolan.
Nolan raised an eyebrow. "Find her? Ethan, she walked out of here an hour ago on a crowded Chicago bus. You don't even know her last name."
"Her name tag said Marissa. There can't be that many Marissas who worked here."
"Actually," Nolan sighed, pulling out his tablet, "payroll records are synced to the management portal. I had the legal team pull her file while you were firing Pendelton."
Ethan stopped dead in his tracks. "You did?"
"Of course I did. I’m your fixer, not your babysitter. I know how your brain works once it locks onto a target." Nolan tapped the screen. "Her full name is Marissa Hayes. Twenty-six years old. Lives in a small apartment complex over on Racine Avenue, just past the park. Single, lives with her mother, who has chronic health issues."
Ethan stared at his friend, a slow, appreciative smirk touching the corner of his mouth. "You're getting soft, Nolan."
"I'm self-preserving," Nolan corrected. "If you're going to completely upend a Tuesday afternoon to play white knight, the least I can do is make sure you don't look like a total stalker doing it."
"Where is she now?"
"According to her employment records, her emergency contact address is on Racine. But knowing someone who just got fired without severance, she’s probably panicking about rent and bills right now."
Ethan checked his watch. Six-fifteen. "Let's go."
"Go where? To her apartment? Ethan, you can't just show up on a stranger's doorstep looking like a venture capitalist executioner. You'll terrify her."
"I'm not going to terrify her," Ethan said, grabbing his wool coat from the back of a chair. "I'm going to offer her a job."
Meanwhile, three miles away, Marissa was standing in the brightly lit, sterile aisle of a neighborhood pharmacy, staring at the register screen with a sinking heart.
"That'll be two hundred and forty-three dollars and fifty cents," the young pharmacist behind the counter said cheerfully, scanning the barcode on the small cardboard box of medication.
Marissa swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she pulled out her debit card. "Can you... can you try it again? Maybe it didn't go through all the way."
The pharmacist swiped it. The machine emitted a sharp, discordant beep.
DECLINED - INSUFFICIENT FUNDS.
"Ah, looks like it's not clearing," the pharmacist said, his smile dimming slightly with professional sympathy. "Do you have another card?"
Marissa looked down at the plastic card in her hand, the thin strip of blue worn at the edges. "No," she whispered. "That's... that's the only one."
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"I'm sorry," the pharmacist said, gently taking the box off the counter and setting it aside. "I can hold it until tomorrow if you want to call your insurance or family?"
Marissa turned away, her vision blurring with hot, frustrated tears. She walked out of the pharmacy into the freezing autumn night, pulling her coat tight around her shoulders as the first cold drops of rain began to fall. She had no job, forty-two dollars in her account, and no idea how she was going to tell her mother that the medicine keeping her alive was sitting behind a counter she couldn't afford to clear.
