I thought Paula should’ve been assistant manager. She’d been there longer, knew the ropes, and didn’t take shit from anyone. But somehow, the job fell to me.

It came with better hours and better pay—but also more responsibility.

I expected the new hires to need help adjusting to how things worked in the store. I didn’t expect they’d need me in their personal lives, too.

“Slow down, slow down,” I said.

“He’s gonna kill me. I know he is,” Nathan, our newest busboy, cried to me about his boyfriend.

We were in the back of the kitchen. Rick had an office, but when someone needed to talk to me, they always pulled me into the narrow space behind the industrial dishwasher. A wall separated us from the main kitchen, and the constant hum of machinery made it feel like a confession booth.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” I told the redheaded tramp.

As coworkers, Nathan was family. But that kid fucked around with more dicks than a locker room. If his boyfriend was upset, it only made sense.

“He kicked me out of his car and threw a bottle at my head,” he added.

“Nate, your boyfriend’s a junior in high school, right?” I asked.

“Well, yeah,” he said.

“Trust me. He won’t do anything. We all talk big at that age,” I said.

“But he—”

“Trust me,” I repeated.

I tried to sound worldly, but I wasn’t much older. My credibility was slim, and advice wasn’t exactly my strong suit. Not to mention I was never the type of gay to drown myself in gossip and drama. I was happy to help, but I was never going to suddenly become a therapist or a talk show host.

Unfortunately, no one liked talking to Rick.

He was too much of a hardass to care about people’s feelings. Naturally, everyone had only two other options: talk to Paula or talk to me. Since Paula avoided getting involved in people’s drama, things unfolded predictably.

Nathan wiped his eyes and tried to pull himself together. I gave him a pat on the shoulder and nudged him back toward the line. The kitchen was loud again—fryers hissing, orders being shouted, the usual chaos. I was about to grab a fresh apron when Paula appeared in the doorway.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, arms crossed, her face unreadable.

“Hey, Tommy,” she said finally, her voice quieter than usual. “You should go outside.”

I blinked. “Why? What’s up?”

She hesitated. That alone made spine tingle. Paula was a rock. She always said what she wanted to, that and her being a girl is probably why I got promoted over her.

“There’s someone looking for you,” she said. “Said he’s your brother.”

My heart stopped.

The air in the kitchen felt thick. The hum of the dishwasher behind me turned into static. I stared at Paula, waiting for her to laugh, to say she was joking, to roll her eyes and tell me it was just some customer with the same last name. She knew what my family meant to me and how I had ran away. 

She wasn't joking.

“My what?!” I asked.