Chapter Text
Tuesday, October 12 (part 2)
You’re painfully aware of Silco. It’s like he’s always there, in the corner of your eye, no matter what you do.
He’s there when you wipe down tables and straighten the chairs, and when you go about the lobby sweeping up the unholy amount of glitter dusting the floor. It feels like you’re taking far too long to accomplish these simple tasks, but you aren’t ready to leave. Not without talking to him first.
Or without him talking to you.
A fine sweat has broken out on your brow by the time you put the broom and dustpan away to double check the closing list. You ensure that everything is in its place in the bar area, and wipe a few stray drips on the counters before looking around and realizing that doing anything else would just be considered obvious stalling.
It’s time to say good-bye.
Slowly, you make your way back to Silco’s table, and he looks up as if already aware of your approach. He’s taken off his eye-patch at some point since the team left, which makes his sudden attention that much more startling.
“Would you like me to turn off all the lights before I go?" You ask. "Or should I —”
“Stay.”
Your mouth goes dry. “What?”
“I need you to look something over for me. It’s your new contract. I believe you weren’t given a clear job description when you were hired by Sevika.”
“Er, no. I wasn’t.”
He turns the computer towards you, and gestures for you to sit. You try to focus on the document, but your attention is fractured because you’re still able to see him over the top of the monitor. You lean forward to block him out, and have to re-read the first sentence several times before you’re able to process what it says.
The contract has Silco written all over it. Clear and accurate job descriptions, a section on starting wages, a training schedule, and when you can expect your first raise. You discover that you’re going to eventually become the new hiring and firing manager, among a few other surprising things.
You trace a particular sentence with your finger. “What kind of events are you planning on allowing in the shop?”
“Jinx has complained on many occasions about the lack of an arts community in our city, and I believe it would be advantageous to begin opening up the space a few evenings a month for local artists and musicians.”
“That would be cool.”
Your heart squeezes as you think about how little you actually know about event planning, and you raise your head to meet his gaze for the first time. He’s in business mode: neutral to bored expression, leaning back, legs crossed, seemingly relaxed.
It’s completely at odds with the tenseness tightening your body. You're leaning forward, perched rigidly on the edge of the hard backed seat.
You force your arms to uncross and settle on the table.
“It also sounds like, um… Sevika won’t be my point of contact any more. That I’ll be answering directly to you.”
“That’s right.”
“And that you want to have regular meetings?”
“At least one a week, for the time being. Sevika has already given me all the reports she has on how the business is run, and I find them sorely lacking in a few key areas. It will be up to you and I to explore these gaps, and fill them as efficiently as possible.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have any other questions?”
You shake your head slowly.
“Very well. I will send you a more complete copy to look over, and if you have any comments and concerns, we’ll address them before I print it out for you to sign.”
“Okay.”
His dismissal is clear when he turns the computer back around and begins to type, so you head to the back to clock out and slowly gather your things. The reality of your new situation is a bit overwhelming. Soon you'll be busier than you’ve been in years. Not only that, but you’ll be in regular communication with Silco.
That could be difficult for you on so many levels.
You’re not worried about your job performance, but you know he’s going to be a much harsher judge of the shop's operation than Sevika ever was, and that pressure to perform is going to drop on the team like a lead balloon. Based on their reaction to Silco earlier, they’re going to rely on you to be the buffer. So not only will you be managing Silco’s expectations, but the team’s response to it. Which you're sure will vary wildly depending on the person.
You’re truly going to be the middleman, and you’ll have to fight hard not to get crushed.
As you consider who on the team is going to respond the worst (Issa, probably), you flick off a few of the lights, leaving only the ones in the lobby so that Silco won’t be sitting in the dark. You pull out your water bottle and top it off with water, and it isn’t until you set down your things to rummage for your keys that you hear him nearby.
You glance over your shoulder and catch Silco leaning against the back bar, texting, legs crossed. It looks like a harmless gesture, but he’s effectively cutting you off from the exit.
Something tells you this was a purposeful move.
Anxiety and something you refuse to name war inside you as you settle against the counter to wait him out. You grip your keys, and they jangle relentlessly, and eventually you set them down because they’re amping up your already wired nerves. You grab your bottle instead, and take long sips.
You've sucked down almost half the bottle before he speaks.
“I want you to know that I accept your apology.” He says very clipped, without looking up. “I am unused to being challenged, and though I knew you were speaking the truth, I reacted inappropriately. I beg your pardon.”
Having it spoken out loud eases some of the weight that's been nestled in your chest for the last few days.
A beat passes as you find your voice.
“Pardon accepted. And I want to say again that I.. I'm also sorry. For what I said, and how I said it.”
"It's already forgotten," He slips his phone into his pocket and crosses his arms. “I’ve always believed honesty is paramount in business partnerships. In this I know we will not have a problem. Though our history is short, it is full of arguments that have begun because of your willingness to tell me difficult truths, and despite all evidence to the contrary I value your clarity of mind.”
You nod, barely trusting yourself to speak, especially as he pushes off the counter and slowly meanders closer…
“I have no doubts that together, we can turn this place into a more profitable business.”
You play with a frayed sticker on your bottle as he stops mere feet away to examine the espresso machine. His fingers trace along the edge of the drip tray, and his head tilts so that the glow of his eye reflects off the stainless steel.
“Sevika was not clear on the chain of command, so we will need to establish from the beginning that my will is law, and that you have been given power to enact it.”
“Of course.”
“If you have any issues with the way I choose to run the business, or have any insights into a more efficient work system, bring it to me privately. I will have office hours in the upstairs suites a few nights a week, and of course, I am available by phone during normal working hours.”
“Alright.”
He shifts a hand into his pocket, while the other still rests on the machine. “And for the time being you may continue to schedule yourself as you see fit in order to accomplish any of the tasks I assign to you, or you feel you must accomplish. However, I do foresee a possible hindrance to our working relationship….”
You shake your head. “You don’t have to worry, Silco, I’ll do whatever you need me to do, whenever you need me to do it.”
“Of course. It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“Then is it the team? Because I promise that I’ll have them on board in no time.”
You see a half smile. “I believe you. It's clear to me where their loyalties lie.”
“Then what?”
“I believe there will be a struggle for us to maintain professionalism in the workplace.”
You set your bottle in your bag, suddenly hyper aware that it’s covered in extremely juvenile stickers, including a giant, glittering head of Nicholas Cage.
“Look, I know I haven’t put up a very professional front so far, but I promise that while I’m working I can keep my mouth shut and behave myself.”
“Again, I believe you. But as I said, it is not you I’m worried about.”
Then who?
His attention is locked onto the machine before him, and in his profile you read an aristocratic haughtiness lingering around the edges of his eyes and mouth. It's so much like his head-shot in the college pamphlet that you can't help staring, but there’s something else there too. You’ve never paid close attention to his ruined eye before because when it’s fixed on you, it’s difficult not to squirm. But in the semi-darkness you can read a subtle emotion. Turmoil, maybe, or wariness.
You don’t know what it means, but it makes your heart beat that much faster.
“I have always thought a man’s inability to maintain self-possession was a weakness. But after repeatedly losing my own composure in recent days I have concluded that it is an... unavoidable reality. And to pretend my own weaknesses don’t exist is to foster a far worse danger of willful ignorance.”
He folds his hands behind his back and turns to face you fully.
“I have seen my hubris come to play in my relationship with Jinx and Sevika, and possibly others, and I must address it between you and I now so that it no longer a threat.”
You stare at him, uncomprehending. “Okay. So what do you need to address?”
He doesn’t answer right away, but searches your face.
“I briefly considered letting you go. After our argument.”
This revelation strikes you like a hammer to the chest. Even though you’d thought deep down that he might fire you, hearing it spoken out loud makes you feel a strange sense of disappointment.
And betrayal.
“It would have been the most logical course of action, though I quickly ruled it out as it would likely have created as many problems as it resolved."
Did he just call you a problem?
"Oh," Is all you trust yourself to say.
"This team would not be nearly as effective without your leadership, and the trouble of having to rehire and retrain a manager at this time would not be worth my time.”
“Right. What a hassle.”
“There is also the trouble of Jinx. If I were to cut you loose she would pester me incessantly until I brought you back again. Sevika would also throw a fit, as she would be forced to step back in for the interim. So the question still remains. What am I to do with you?”
He tilts his head as if to better consider the question, sending one fine lock of hair dripping over his forehead.
You hate how attractive it looks.
“I thought you weren’t worried about me," You prompt.
“I’m not. But you are an integral part of the solution. Exactly how, well… that is something we need to discuss.”
“Great. Well I’m glad you seem to have everything figured out.”
“I’ve made you angry.”
You scoff.
How astute of you Mr. Spisak.
“You just told me you wanted to fire me, and the reason you didn’t is because it would be inconvenient. Also, your daughter would be mad at you. So yeah. I guess I am.”
His eyebrows crease. “It wasn’t my intention to insult you. I was merely trying to point out that you are important.”
“Yeah, to everyone but you.”
You kick yourself roundly as his eye narrows in that damnably calculating way.
You pace away in agitation. “But thanks for not firing me. I really like my job, and I promise I’ll be a worthwhile investment.”
“Hm. Is that what you are?”
His sudden change of tone irritates you.
“Plenty of people think so.”
“What do you think?”
“You said it yourself. It makes sense to keep me. I already have a good working relationship with the team, and I also know how to make all the operational decisions, so it’ll save you time and energy learning how to do it yourself.”
“But do you think you’re an investment?”
“Yep. I’m not perfect, but I work hard and I’m willing to learn.”
“I’m asking if you think you’re an investment to me.”
It should be an easy answer. Yes. You are nothing but a pawn to be moved around on his business chess board. Yet something keeps you from answering. Foolish hope, maybe, that you're wrong and you actually mean something more to him.
You shrug as you fiddle with a piece of straw paper. “You obviously don’t think I’m an idiot, and you must... appreciate me to some extent, or else you would have fired me. I must be worth the effort of keeping.”
“Worth the effort? A rather harsh perspective.”
“Well you said it yourself, and everyone I talk to says –”
“I don’t care what anybody else says,” He interrupts. “I want to know what you believe.”
The straw paper is tied in useless, twisted knots in your fingers. You start to tear it to pieces.
“Like I said. I think you… that you respect me. And you’ve got an eye for people, so you saw something in me that would be a good fit for what you’re trying to accomplish here.”
“I thought we agreed to honesty in communication.”
You look up to scowl at him, and are thrown to discover him standing inches away.
It takes you a few beats to find your voice. “I am being honest.”
“While also avoiding the real question."
"Which is?"
"Who are you to me?”
“I don't know."
“Ah," He says softly. "It appears I’m not the only one who’s being willfully ignorant.”
Frustration flushes hot and thick on your cheeks. “I don’t know what you think, okay? I have no idea! I’ve only known you for what, two weeks? That doesn’t exactly make me an expert on the many moods of Silco Spisak.”
“Yet despite how short a time you’ve known me, I have determined that you understand me better than most of my inner circle.”
“I doubt that."
"You don't believe me?"
"No, it's just... I know how to pay attention to things.”
"I know. You are quite capable of discerning my needs without the need for words.”
"I try to pay attention to everybody, not just you."
“There’s no need to be defensive. It's an admirable trait."
“I’m not being defensive!”
His barely discernible smile makes you want to run.
You mess with the brim of your hat as you mumble, “Plenty of people pay attention to you.”
“But we’re not talking about other people.”
You huff. “Why are you being so pushy about this? Does your solution to improving our working relationship involve driving me crazy?”
Another head tilt, another lock of hair dripping down to caress his scarred eyebrow. “Do I drive you crazy?”
Your laugh is shrill. “That’s a stupid question! If you didn’t then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Why not?”
You throw up your hands. “Because I wouldn’t waste my time arguing with you! I'd think logically and realize that you're my boss and way too far out of my league. That there's no point in me standing here trying to draw out this conversation since I'm only torturing myself. And don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you didn't already know that I'm in love with you."
You stare at him, accusing, and he looks…
Thunderstruck.
Your anger disappears, replaced by horror as his blue eye widens. His mouth hangs open slightly to reveal the gap in his teeth. His glowing eye is darting around your face, taking in your rapidly reddening cheeks.
Damn you Silco Spisak! Damn you and your stupid hair and your stupid eye, and your stupid, stupid scarred face!
And you're such a fool.
He grabs your arm as your try to dodge around him.
“Stop."
You blink away tears as you reluctantly obey. Every fiber of your being is desperate to be gone, to find somewhere to hide and never reemerge again.
Idiot. You never learn.
“Let me go,” you waver.
“No.”
“I said let me go!”
“Please don't struggle! If you would just – agh!”
His head jerks back as if you've punched him, and you stare at him in shock as he bends over, snarling and clutching his eye.
“Silco? What —?”
“The case,” He grinds out through clenched teeth. “In my inner coat pocket. Bring it.”
It takes another pained snarl before your body unlocks and you jump into action. You sprint across the room and scrabble through his coat to find the case.
It’s a Valentino, Your brain thinks senselessly as you pull out what looks like a pencil – no, a medical case. The one he took from your hands only last week. Your terror rises when you pass back behind the counter and find him kneeling on the floor. You fall to your knees next to him.
“What do I do?” You say, voice wavering.
“Inside there is a… syringe… applicator. The syringe is… already loaded. Lock the pieces together. Press and twist.”
It’s clear every word is agony, and your hands shake as you try to do as he says as quickly as possible. The two pieces slip into place so easily you double check to make sure that you did it right.
Your heart is pounding horribly in your chest. "I did it."
“You must inject the solution… in my eye."
“What?”
“Place the needle… above the… damaged… pupil.”
“I can't do that."
"You must."
"I’m not qualified to --- Silco!”
He slumps back with a groan, and you somehow manage to arrest his fall before he's completely prone on the floor. You scuttle around so you can settle his head onto your lap, keeping your left hand on his cheek to keep it steady.
“You must do it,” He pants. “Please.”
Panic takes over.
But what if you do something wrong? Stab him in the wrong place and make him go blind or give him nerve damage?
It’s the next faint, breathy please that draws your unwilling hand forward so the applicator hovers over his eye. He’s breathing hard, face screwed up in pain even as he looks up into the barrel of the device.
“Don't think. Just pull the trigger."
You do as he says.
Your finger twitches once, and the sound he makes when the needle strikes is so horrible that you choke back a sob.
When he starts to writhe you drop the device to run your thumbs soothingly across his cheeks, whispering that it's going to be alright even as your insides clench painfully with every shudder of his distress.
Terrible minutes pass. It takes far too long for his body to relax and his breathing to normalize. His grip on your hand lessens as the stress lines around his right eye fade. The ruined eye becomes less pulsingly angry, sinking back to its usual dormant embers.
The pain of kneeling on the tiled floor is rapidly catching up to you and you shift slightly to reawaken your sleeping legs. But it's this subtle movement that brings him back from his comatose state.
He shifts, adjusting himself slowly to come to a stand. You struggle to get to your own feet as he leans heavily against the counter. He looks mostly like himself, except for an exhausted droop in his shoulders.
After a moment he clears his throat. “I apologize you had to see me like that. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a... a violent reaction.”
“What happened?”
“It’s difficult to explain. But in short, I failed to keep track of the time.”
He closes his eye.
“I’m glad I was here to help."
The words feel woefully inadequate.
“Had you not been here, there’s no knowing how long I would have suffered before making it across the room. I owe you. Again.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
When you lean against the counter next to him, he opens his eye to gaze steadily into yours.
“You have no idea what you’ve done, and I don’t like to be in debt.”
“Honestly, the only thing you owe me is to never, ever do that again," You rub your chest with a weak laugh. “This isn’t part of the new job description, is it? Have weekly meetings, train to take over hiring, and regularly stab my boss in the eye with a needle? Because I did not enjoy that at all."
His stare is steady, heavy.
You continue to babble nervously. "I mean, what if my hand had slipped and I stabbed your face instead? I don’t think I could have lived with myself if I gave you permanent nerve damage or —”
Your words are cut off by his hand arresting your cheek, and his mouth suddenly pressing hard against yours.
You release a sound of startled surprise before he pulls back, breathing hard, his mouth hovering inches above yours.
“Now you know,” He says at last, low and rasping.
“Know what?” You ask in a daze.
“You are the solution.”
“Oh. Okay.”
You have barely enough time to speak the words before he’s kissing you again, and your whole world tumbles off its glorious axis.