The Other Side of Greed by Lily Zante
Chapter Twenty-Two
KYRA
“Ican take over now. You’ve been working hard all evening,” I say to Brad. He’s fiddling around in the van, and I’m not sure exactly what he’s doing, but he’s been working like a fiend and he hasn’t stopped. I pick up on his subdued mood. I can tell that something is wrong, but I don’t want to push him to tell me.
We don’t have that kind of relationship.
“I’ve got this.” He doesn’t even bother to turn around. I wonder if he’s annoyed that he was stuck serving behind the tables all evening. It’s not as if I didn’t give him the chance to walk around and mingle with everyone. Guilt pinches me. Maybe I should have checked in on him more than I did.
I got carried away by the energy and the sheer excitement of the night. It was so potent, so palpable. It was electric. I couldn’t pull myself away. “Hey, Brad. It’s not okay. Let me do something. I’ve done nothing but watch the fight and walk around talking to everyone.”
“Couldn’t take your eyes off the screen, huh?” There is a rough edge to his voice but I can’t gauge the expression on his face because he’s still got his back to me.
“It was an amazing fight,” I counter.
He turns around slowly. “Yeah, I’m sure it was.” Just as I’m about to ask him what his problem is, and why he’s so testy, he says. “Why don’t you supervise getting everyone to clear the tables so that we can get everything back as fast as possible?”
I almost choke with surprise. He’s giving orders as if he’s in charge, but for now, I’ll let this slip. He’s on his A-game, and I’m caught up in the giddiness of Elias’s victory.
This has been a great night, not just for Elias. It was a great night for these people to be able to watch him fight. For many, this will be the closest that they get to a night of celebration and I’m super thrilled that we made this possible.
Maybe that’s why Brad is quiet. He’s feeling sheepish that he was so wrong. He thought we were all crazy for putting on something like this, and I, for one, am glad to prove him wrong.
I set about getting the area cleaned up quickly. As soon as the fight was over, people started to make a quick exit. A few had gone back to the serving tables to get some more food to take away—which is fine, because we have plenty. The place empties much faster than I expected.
Over the next hour, the tech guys are still busy dismantling the screen, and our people have almost cleared everything away. I’ve sent most of the employees home. Simona was one of the first to leave. I appreciate that it’s been a long day for her. Yvette and her kids must have gone home, too.
Fredrich takes a few of the employees with him to return things back to the restaurants. Brad and I, and a few others deal with the storeroom.
When everything has been put away, I send everyone home. It’s very late. Brad doesn’t heed my advice. I feel bad because he’s been here and done the most, which is surprising to see. I don’t understand why he won’t leave. I like to do a final quick check and make sure that everything is back, because ultimately, this is all my responsibility.
I attempt to make conversation. “You didn’t see much of the fight.” I saw it all, even wandering around in the midst of the people, making sure everything was okay, but I’m aware that many of the helpers didn’t.
“I can watch it again. I’ll catch the highlights later.”
“It was a great fight.” I’ve come away feeling buoyed up by what we did. Feeding people, getting them together, seeing that we might have made a difference, all of this elevates my soul. I feel light, and bright, and warm. But seeing Brad’s somber mood makes my enthusiasm over Elias’ victory float to the ground like a lead balloon.
He has been silently putting things away. Everyone has left, and I don’t see the need for him to stay. I want to do a quick inventory check, so that I know that we have enough for the next food session. For one thing, I don’t want to have to come in again tomorrow. I try to shop during the weekend.
“I’ll stay behind and finish off,” I say, making another attempt to reach him, but he isn’t giving me anything. Not even his usual bout of sarcastic verbal ping-pong. I would love some of that now. A reaction. Any reaction would be better than his silence.
“Is something wrong? Are you annoyed that you were stuck behind the tables all night? I did give you the chance to be on the other side, if you remember.”
His brows push together as if he doesn’t understand. “I’m not annoyed. It’s fine.”
I nod, but I don’t believe him. He doesn’t seem like his usual self. “You probably feel like this was a waste of your Saturday night.”
I’m sure he has places to go to, and people he would much rather be with. I can’t put my finger on who Brad Hartley is, but the scent of his aftershave lingers with me for longer than is comfortable.
“It wasn’t a waste.”
I roll my lower lip between my teeth, about to say something, but he says something that completely floors me.
“It took me back, seeing everything.”
“Took you back?”
He stares at me. “Yvette’s kids, more than anything.” His voice is far away, his gaze seems to see beyond me. “I felt sorry for them.”
“Those people don’t want you to feel sorry for them,” I remind him.
“I felt sorry anyway.”
There is something different about him tonight, as if the cocky guardedness he wears so easily has developed a crack that seems to grow deeper. Any moment soon it will snap completely, and maybe he will unveil himself.
He’s not the man he was when he first walked into Redhill. The work we do affects us all in some way, but to my surprise, I didn’t expect Brad to feel it the way we did.