I don’t want to hold a grudge, but he shouldn’t have involved me in his stupid game. Now the cops are hanging around, Stan thought, as he cooked the orders. He was still avoiding Bruno.
Monday was usually his day of regret. He knew by consuming large quantities of alcohol on Saturday evening, and continuing on Sunday, was not only stupid, it always led to a hated Monday morning. The slightest movement of his head caused hammer blows to his brain.
Stan had adamantly declared he would never work in a claustrophobic environment again, after having worked underground in the coalmine of his hometown in Poland. Every day, compared to Boston, was better than working there. When able to walk into daylight, look around, and did not have to bless one’s self for having survived, it was a good day. Having to master the cooking was not easy, but once doing so, he found working in windowless kitchen satisfying. Along with his assistant Carlo, who spoke little English, they worked the kitchen like professionals. With Carlo cutting, dicing, chopping, and washing, it usually went smoothly, but Monday mornings was a strain. Working at the diner also had its rewards. All he had to do was walk out to the sidewalk; turn right and there was the building’s entrance to his small apartment. No costs, no travelling needed, and he could sleep in until almost starting time.
He kept thinking of how Bruno’s criminal activity had interfered with his life, and of it possibly putting his freedom at risk.
We haven’t seen the last of the cops, and if Bruno thinks he has, he better have another think. I’ve been around long enough to know they don’t accept what someone says as gospel. They’ll be back.
Even though Bruno wanted to think of Katherine while at work, it was less frequent. With his increased workload, the only available times for mental indulgences were on his designated breaks.
I have to think more about how to enter the buildin’. I need to come up with another plan. I can’t use the same one again. Her parents will be on guard.