Roman could hear Grace moving around and hoped she was making herself comfortable. He didn’t want to end the conversation yet.
“Congratulations on finishing the mural. I guess that’s why you’ve been celebrating.”
Celebrating? Was that what she thought? The longer she worked for him, the more he wanted to know about her. There was something about Grace Moore that had caught his attention right from day one. “Actually, I just felt like getting drunk in my room.” He realized how pathetic he sounded. What a loser! Just shut up, Roman, before you say something even more stupid.
“I’m sorry, Roman.”
“Sorry about what?”
“I don’t know. That you’re alone after you’ve finished something people are going to enjoy for years to come. You have every reason in the world to be happy and proud of what you’ve accomplished, and you’re not.” She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I’ve never known anyone who needed the Lord more than you do.”
“The Lord?”
“Jesus.”
Roman felt the energy seeping out of him, like air from a punctured tire. He thought of the sign in the Tenderloin, right across the street from the flat where he and his mother lived. “Jesus saves,” Roman said sardonically. “I used to sit in a window at night and ask Him to save my mother. He didn’t do squat.”
“Do you want to talk, Roman?”
He figured he’d already said too much. He knew he’d said more than he ever intended. Tapping End Call, he tossed the phone onto the nightstand.
GRACE, AGE 15
Grace started working at McDonald’s as soon as she was old enough to get a permit. She worked while friends came and went. They’d say hi, order hamburgers, fries, and sodas, and say bye. Or they’d sit at a table together, talking and laughing while she was busy behind the counter.
Salim Hadad, her supervisor, tried to schedule her for Sunday shifts. “I can’t, Mr. Hadad. I go to church with my aunt.” He said it was good a teenager took religion seriously, even if she was a Christian.
Mr. Hadad said she was his best worker. If she were older, he’d make her a manager. She never stood around idle, even at quiet times when no cars were in the drive-through, no customers at the counter. She washed tables, swept floors, cleaned grills, scoured the women’s bathroom, and restocked toilet paper and towels without being asked. She cleaned milk shake, soda, and coffee machines, refilled napkin and straw dispensers, anything to keep busy during her shift. Salim told her she could study, but she said her conscience wouldn’t allow it. “You’re not paying me to do my homework.”
Today Salim was rushing around, grumbling about a worker who hadn’t shown up. He grew more frustrated when two others couldn’t seem to do anything without bumping into each other. Grace remembered how overwhelmed she had felt the first few days until she caught on to the routine. She delivered a tray of Happy Meals to a lady with half a dozen girls in soccer uniforms. Filling drinks, she had the uncanny feeling of being watched.
When the woman and girls left, Grace stood ready to take the next order.
Patrick Moore stepped forward. Her stomach fluttered, and her heart picked up speed. He’d moved from Colorado at the beginning of the year and made the varsity football team. It wasn’t long before he became the star quarterback. Every girl in school had a crush on the blond, blue-eyed hunk with the ski-slope tan. Even the guys liked him. “Hi.” Patrick’s smile made her blush as he looked at her name tag. “Grace . . .” Stammering, she asked for his order. His smile broadened into a teasing grin, flushing her face hotter.
“Two Big Macs, two large fries, and a large soda. For here.”
Grace punched in the order. He gave her a twenty, and she made change. She put the food on a tray. Maybe he had a girl with him. She resisted the urge to see who it was. Lindsay? She was head cheerleader, and they’d been a couple for a while. Grace set the tray on the counter. Patrick seemed in no hurry to take it. “Nice to see you, Grace.”
She didn’t know what to say. He picked up the tray and took a step before turning around. “When do you get off?”
Her mind went blank for a moment. “Six.”
“I’ll give you a ride home.”
“I have a bike.”
“I have a bike rack.”
Patrick took a booth where he had a straight-shot view of her at the counter. Grace didn’t even notice an older gentleman standing in front of her until he spoke. “Ah, Cupid does his dirty work again.” He chuckled. “I’ll have a Whopper.”