The Other Side of Greed by Lily Zante

Chapter Seven

KYRA

“What happened to you?” I rise from my chair in shock. Fredrich stands at the door with his arm in a sling.

“I tripped and fell down the stairs.”

“Fredrich,” I murmur, feeling sorry for him.

He only went home a few hours ago. We’ve got another homeless food night tonight. We start getting things ready for it around six o’clock in the evening and given that I’m often still in the office then, it always ends up being a long, long day for me.

Simona says that I live in this factory and she often wonders out loud why I don’t set up a bed in here. That’s a great idea, and I would, were it not for the fact that it’s so cold. I don’t mind the spiders and insects, or the dirt. We try to keep it clean but I don’t pay anyone to clean it. I guess I ought to. The employees take care of things, and I’ve been known to go around with a broom now and then.

This factory came at a good price, and I like the idea of not having any landlords to deal with, of owning something outright, but I just wish we had a bigger place. Redhill is doing well, much better than I ever thought and we are expanding fast. Every year, we help more people and change more lives, and it’s exhilarating, running a company which helps people. Sometimes I wonder if we should stay here or go elsewhere. It makes sense to find somewhere else with more space rather than staying put and building another factory on the side, but I have a good feeling about Greenways and my instinct tells me that we’re onto something good here.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him angrily. “You must be in so much pain.”

“It’s food night.” He saunters in and perches slightly on his desk, as if he needs to rest. He doesn’t look anything like his usual strapping self.

“You can’t go to that.” He’s the one who does the bulk of the lifting. He can easily swing the pallets of water bottles and food and he’s also the one who goes to the various restaurants around Chicago who have signed up to donate food on these nights. They supply us with warm pasta, some rice and bread rolls. We wouldn’t be able to do what we do without the spirit and help of these people who donate weekly to our cause. This is the community helping the community; it is much appreciated and vital to our success.

I suddenly realize that Fredrich being out of service is going to cause me a huge problem. “You need to take a couple of weeks off,” giving him my sternest look.

“I’ve only fractured my arm, Kyra. It hasn’t fallen off.”

“It might as well have.”

“I’m sorry! I tripped and fell.” He touches the cast gingerly, as if he’s getting used to it.

“I didn’t mean to gripe. It’s just... busy.” What with tonight, and everything else going on at the factory, there is just too much to do, and right now I don’t see how we can function at the same level as we need to with my strongest man out.

“It’s a shame you turned away our only chance at free labor, from someone who sounded pretty smart.” Fredrich, like Simona, seems irritated that I didn’t take on that Brad guy who came here last week. I throw my hands up and tsk. Both he and Simona have been telling me at every chance what a great opportunity I threw away.

“Hiring more people at our level is not our number one priority.” We don’t need a new guy. Especially not in the office. We have enough people in the management team with three of us. We’re not managers sitting at our desks watching everyone do the grunt work; we get on with things.

We are doers.

I’m not sure that this guy they both seem to like so much is a doer. He seems to me like someone who can talk a good talk. He looked too slick. Too salesman-y, even in his ripped jeans.

But, Fredrich being out of commission is going to set me back a lot. “How will you manage?” he asks.

“We’ll manage.”

“You could use that guy now,” Fredrich insists, before pushing off with a grimace.

I ignore that comment. “You should go home and get some rest.”

“I need to go load up the truck.”

I’m about to sit and reply to my emails, but I can’t. Fredrich is stupid enough to think he still has his Herculean powers and that he can continue one-armed with his duties. “No, you don’t.” I march towards him. “I’ll do that.” I gasp. “Did you drive here?”

“I didn’t fly.”

I tilt my head and flash my disapproving look at him. “You’re in pain, and you’re grumpy. Go home, Fredrich.”

“Who’s going to get the food?”

“I will.”

“It’s not going to fit into your car,” he points out. He’s right. It won’t.

“I’ll just have to use the old van,” I mutter to myself. I’ve been meaning to buy a better van for our factory but as usual, it’s not our top priority. I’ve relied on Fredrich to drive his pickup truck to get the food from the restaurants. We have most of the other supplies in the storage room here in the factory—cans of soup, water bottles, crackers, sanitary products and so on. “Go home, Fredrich. You’re no good to me injured.”

“And let you do this alone?” He raises himself to his full height, his face and body posture indicating that he is in pain.

“I’m not doing it alone. There are plenty of us here to help out.”

“Let me help a little,” he insists.

“No. Go home. Please.” I can’t have him be even more injured than he is. He’s the one who moves things around and lift things, not just for the food night but whenever a heavy hand is needed, it’s Fredrich I turn to.

Yvette is here and the employees on the schedule for tonight are all here. I refuse to let the lack of Fredrich’s muscle power be our weakness, even though it has highlighted something to me; if anything should happen to me or Fredrich, or Simona, this business is on shaky ground, and I can’t afford for that to happen. Many already vulnerable people are depending on us and we can’t let them down.

There’s no time to waste. I pick up the keys to the van and decide to make the restaurant run myself. “I’m going to get the food.” I mumble some instructions to the others letting them know what’s happened and that they need to band together and make sure Fredrich doesn’t make his injury worse.

Rubbing my aching lower back, I climb into the rumbling old van. My back has been acting up lately, because, like Fredrich, I also think I have superhuman strength and can do everything. I cross my arms on the steering wheel, then lean forward and rest my head. I could fall asleep here, and the thought of the next four hours makes me want to go to sleep. I am so bone-tired. It’s a good thing Simona isn’t here to see me like this. She already hates that I work so hard and play so little, and she would have something to say if she saw me like this.

I turn the ignition and the van splutters to life on the first try. Phew. I’ve known for months that we need something more reliable, but as with most things, and me, I squeeze every last gasp of usage out of it.

Tonight will be hard work. I’m going to have to return the pots and containers to the restaurants, and then make sure everything is put back in the storeroom.

It’s a shame you turned him away. Fredrich’s words float back to me.

I could call that guy. The slimy one who’s traveled around the world and found his calling, or so he thinks.

Use him.

I don’t use people. That’s not me. Yet there would be something satisfying to be gained from watching him at the food night. This is my chance to see if he can rally to the cause and help me on demand.

It’s just as well that Simona sent me his number. Now I can find out how serious he was about wanting to help out.