Chapter 3

"Then before I go, let me call the health department and ask whether the Lucky Grill can guarantee food safety using day-old sauce."

I gave my phone a little shake, then went on.

"In the back kitchen, I'm the witness, and the recording is the evidence. Do you want me to dial right now?"

The whole kitchen went dead silent.

The boss's face cycled from red to white, the corner of his mouth twitching like mad.

He probably never imagined I'd push back this hard.

In my past life, Rosemary Lawrence had always kept her head down and taken the abuse.

Just so she could collect her wages smoothly each month, without them being withheld.

But in this life I didn't want to swallow it anymore.

After all, what could ever matter more than my mother's life?

While the kitchen was locked in a standoff, Everard Clayton suddenly poked his head in.

"Boss, table four out front is asking about their order."

Just like that, the boss grabbed at it like a lifeline and spun to fire on him.

"Asking what! Can't you see I'm busy?"

He heaved a few ragged breaths, then turned back to me, his voice pressed low and vicious.

"Rosemary, you dared to smack me in the face in front of all these people today. I'm keeping a tab on this!"

"Now get out. You're not getting a cent. Get off this food street and don't let me see your face again."

I didn't move.

You get paid for the work you do.

What was mine, I was going to get back, down to the last cent.

"Fine."

I untied my apron and threw it on the stove.

"I'll come collect my wages through a labor board complaint tomorrow."

"But boss, did you forget? I'm only seventeen this year. It's still over ten days until my birthday, until I turn eighteen. No labor contract, employing a minor. That's illegal!"

"You!"

The boss choked on his words.

A dozen pairs of eyes in the kitchen swung to me at once, like they were looking at some kind of freak.

Rudolph's mouth fell open, and the spatula in his hand slipped and clattered into the oil.

Natalie's hands froze midair over the vegetables, mashed leaves smeared all over her fingers.

"Say that again?"

The boss's face went purple.

I looked at him, my voice only firmer.

"I'm seventeen. You never signed a contract, never paid into anything, and you have me working eleven hours a day. Labor law says a minor between sixteen and eighteen can't work more than eight hours a day. You broke the law, boss."

Sidney suddenly started coughing hard, like he'd choked on his own spit.

"I... I didn't know you were only seventeen!"

The boss's eyes darted around as he scrambled to argue.

"You said you were an adult when you came in to apply!"

"You didn't care, is more like it. You'd found yourself a cheap part-timer. You never asked, and I never had the chance to say."

I pulled out my ID card and held it up for him to see from two steps away.

The date of birth was etched right there, clear as day. Sixteen days until my eighteenth birthday.

The kitchen was utterly dead now.

Natalie was the first to come around. She dropped her vegetable basket on the counter and fumbled through her words.

"Boss, Rosie really isn't eighteen yet. When she first came, I thought she looked awfully young..."

"You shut your mouth!"

The boss couldn't take in a word from anyone now, and he roared at her.

I put my ID away and said nothing more.

I turned and pushed open the iron kitchen door, and the hot summer night air hit me in the face.

Behind me came the sound of the boss slamming down a ladle, and Rudolph muttering under his breath,

"Now it's really kicking off."

I ignored it and strode out.

I crossed the dining hall packed with customers, chopsticks clicking, drinking games shouted, beer bottles knocking together, all of it blurring into one.

Someone was lifting a piece of braised pork toward his mouth.

My fingertips went cold. That pot of spoiled sauce was still lying there on the floor, and Natalie and the others had all seen it.

But who could promise nothing would go wrong tonight?

I hurried out of the diner and didn't stop until I reached the milkshake shop on the corner.

I crouched at the curb and dry-heaved twice, my stomach churning, but nothing came up.

After a long while, once I'd steadied myself, I pulled out my phone and dialed my mother's number.

"Rosie? What is it?"

Her voice was thick and stuffy, but it made my eyes go hot.

"Mom, whatever you do, don't go out today. Don't open the door for anyone. Lock the windows, bolt the door."

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"It's nothing... I got into a fight with the boss. I'm afraid he'll send people to make trouble."

There was a two-second pause on the other end, then my mother's worried voice came through.

"Then hurry home. I'll make you a bowl of noodle soup."

My eyes stung, and the ache in my nose grew sharper.

In my past life, I never even got to eat that bowl of noodles.

I hung up, wiped my face, and headed home.

Passing the local police station, I paused, but in the end I didn't go in to file anything.

Instead I felt my way into my email and hit send.

The boss hadn't laid a hand on me yet. A pot of sauce and one argument weren't enough to open a case, but they could still trip him up.

But I'd underestimated that Lambert guy's talent for twisting the truth.

At seven thirty that night, I'd just gotten home when my phone started buzzing.

Unknown numbers called one after another, and I ignored every one.

Then Sidney's message popped up.

[Rosie, hurry and look at the local trending page!]

I opened it and saw at a glance that on the local community forum, a post already carried the "trending" tag.

[Lucky Grill exposed: vindictive employee spikes the sauce to get back at the boss!]