Chapter 2 - The Manager's Warning
Noah turned back toward his delivery bike, adjusting his thermal bag and mounting the frame as the cold rain plastered his hair against his forehead. He felt a sudden, strange warmth in his chest that momentarily pushed back the bitter chill of the evening. Doing a good deed felt good, even if his own stomach was empty.
He pedaled hard down the avenue, delivering the remaining two orders within twenty minutes, and then hurried back to Metro Bites, the bustling downtown diner that employed him as their primary evening courier.
Pushing open the heavy glass doors, Noah stepped into the blast of warm air, shaking the water droplets from his jacket. The diner was filled with the rich aroma of roasted coffee, frying onions, and sizzling burgers.
Standing near the POS register, arms crossed tightly over his chest and a face contorted into a sour scowl, was Mr. Henderson, the evening shift manager. Henderson was a man who measured human worth strictly by speed metrics and customer turnover rates.
"Hayes! You took twenty-two minutes on a twelve-minute radius delivery," Henderson barked, marching over as Noah unzipped his thermal bag. "What were you doing out there, sightseeing?"
"Sorry, Mr. Henderson. Traffic on Michigan Avenue was completely locked up due to an accident," Noah lied smoothly, opting to hide the incident in the park to avoid a pointless argument.
Henderson grunted, unsatisfied, but his eyes suddenly locked onto Noah's empty side pocket, where the plastic container usually rested. "Where's your dinner container? You didn't leave company trash out in the street, did you?"
Noah swallowed hard, realizing his mistake. "I... I gave it away, sir. To an old man sitting in the park who looked like he hadn't eaten in days."
The color in Henderson’s face rose from pale to a furious, mottled red. He slammed his palm down onto the stainless-steel counter.
"You gave away company time and your own delivery focus to a vagrant?!" Henderson shrieked, drawing the startled attention of several customers dining near the counter. "Listen to me very carefully, Hayes! We are a business, not a homeless shelter! If I ever catch you stopping to play Mother Teresa on company time again, you are fired on the spot. Do you understand me?!"
Noah clenched his fists inside his pockets, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep from snapping back. He needed this job to help pay his mother’s electric bill. He couldn't afford a suspension.
"Yes, Mr. Henderson," Noah muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. "It won't happen again."
May you like
"See that it doesn't," Henderson sneer, turning on his heel and walking back toward the kitchen.
Noah exhaled a long, shaky breath, thinking that was the end of it. He had taken the reprimand, saved his job, and gone about his business. But he had severely underestimated who the old man in the park actually was—and what would happen next.
