She could see in his eyes that he thought she was mulling the deal over. Like she would walk past a gold brick in the street and hesitate to pick it u....“You drive a hard bargain. But you have a deal, Mr…” she prompted, her voice leading.“Scar.” he declared, proudly. A strong name in any race, he knew.“Scar..” she repeated, rolling it over her tongue and finding it had a bitter taste. She would resolve that soon enough. “Well Scar..” could she push her luck? She had to. Once in a lifetime. Gary shook me again. “Hey, get the fuck up.”Everyone looked at me when I entered the kitchen fifteen minutes late. I was always the first to arrive to get my station ready. I was the model waiter. The Pocmont Lodge kitchen was a madhouse made up of people who had worked there for years and like many dysfunctional families, there was a tense affection that fluctuated between joking and yelling. So, when I walked in, George, the chef, a tall black guy, who wore a white sailor hat rather than a. More

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