Chapter 4: We'll Talk When I'm Back
**Lia's POV **
The girl lingering by the door finally dropped her amused spectator's look and gave Lia a proper once-over.
The two girls began exchanging glances.
Casey's lips curled upward before she quickly pressed them flat again.
Ray scoffed.
"You're buying her? Good luck with that—she's nothing but trouble."
"Hiring her to dance," Victor corrected. "You've been running this place long enough. Surely you know the difference between those two things."
Lia turned her head and glanced at him.
Right now, she was more than willing to admit: this man had some skill.
Ray finally jerked a thumb toward the guy in the back who handled the money.
"Give her what she's owed and get her out of here."
Lia didn't rush to smile.
She waited until the envelope was produced, took it, tore it open, and counted bill by bill.
Ray's expression was stony. "Think I'd short you?"
"Once I've counted, I won't have to wonder." She pulled out the last bill. "And you actually did short me twenty."
A beat of silence, then a quiet laugh from somewhere nearby.
Ray yanked a twenty from his wallet and flung it.
The bill floated to the floor. Lia bent down, picked it up, and carefully brushed it off.
"With a temper like yours, your wallet must really suffer."
She tucked the money away and checked the settlement record, but flatly refused to sign the outstanding-debt slip. Ray waved impatiently at the bookkeeper, who finally issued her an actual wage-clearance receipt.
Eight hundred and sixty dollars.
When Lia zipped up her bag, her palms were slick with sweat.
Casey flashed her a discreet thumbs-up.
She blew Casey a kiss—a genuine one this time.
Victor pointed toward a car parked at the curb.
"Let's go. I'll show you the venue."
Lia didn't move.
She looked at him and hesitated for two seconds.
In those two seconds, she ran the numbers one more time: twelve hundred dollars could buy pillows, cover rent, and fill the fridge.
Damn him for naming a figure she couldn't get out of her head.
"Thank you," she said.
Victor's brow shifted slightly.
Lia knew he'd caught the subtext. She waited for him to ask.
"But?"
"I'm not going."
Even Casey froze this time.
Victor studied her. "You can name your terms. Not enough money?"
Lia bit her lower lip. She couldn't quite manage to look indifferent.
"Please don't raise the offer. I really will be tempted."
"Then why turn it down?"
She looked back at the club door.
She'd wanted to leave for a long time, yet could never bring herself to walk away from the little bit of money the stage paid.
Lia turned forward again.
"I'm done with this."
Victor was quiet for a moment.
"All I'm asking is for you to dance."
"I know. I heard what you said back there." She gave him a small smile. "That's exactly why I'm thanking you properly."
The girl by the door couldn't help cutting in. "Twelve hundred dollars, and you're just going to walk away from it?"
Lia clutched her bag.
"Please stop talking about it. I'm barely hanging on as it is."
The girl had no comeback.
But Victor laughed.
A brief laugh this time, edged with resignation.
"You've already lined up something new?"
Lia thought of the hospital bed, of Walter assuring her with a perfectly straight face that there would be soft pillows.
"More or less. The boss is older, easygoing. Room and board included."
"Better deal than mine?"
"That's proprietary information."
He smiled, looked at her, and finally didn't press further.
Lia walked past him, then turned back to add one more thing.
"Last night—thank you. And today, thank you again. I'm not just being polite."
"I can tell. When you're being polite, you're a lot sweeter."
She laughed.
He wasn't half bad, this one.
Her phone rang right on cue. The hospital.
Lia answered quickly and heard the nurse say Walter was awake and asking whether she was coming back. Her heart softened at once.
"Yes—of course I'm coming back. Please tell him I'm bringing everything I own, and he'd better not go back on that promise of soft pillows."
The nurse chuckled on the other end.
Lia hung up, zipped her jacket, and headed for the bus stop.
Behind her, the club door hadn't fully closed. Ray's voice leaked through the gap.
"Find out who her new boss is."
Lia's steps faltered. Then she hugged her bag tighter to her chest and walked faster.
That was the last thing she needed.
She'd only just started, and her boss had barely a month left. He couldn't afford Ray making trouble on top of everything else.
"Did anyone call you today?"
Lia pushed open the hospital room door, looked at Walter first, then at the phone on his nightstand.
He turned his face toward her with effort. "You come back… and that's the first thing you ask?"
Good—still had enough energy to be annoyed with her. The anxiety she'd carried all the way here finally eased. She set her bag on the chair, zipper facing inward.
"Just looking out for my boss's affairs. If anyone contacts you—especially mentioning me—don't agree to anything."
"What's going on?"
"My old boss can't let me go. He's probably trying to find out where I am now."
Walter frowned. She didn't feel like dragging Ray's ugly business into the hospital room, so she pulled out the wage envelope and waved it in front of him.
"Got the money back. Eight sixty, down to the last cent."
He glanced at the envelope, then his gaze drifted to her chest.
"Your jacket… zip it up."
She looked down. The zipper had come loose, and the top underneath did have a low neckline. Though she'd specifically smoothed it out that morning before going to collect her pay.
"Worried I'll give the money a chill?"
"Wear something decent."
She gripped the zipper and reminded herself: he was sick, and the day had been rough enough already. Pulling it up took one second. No need to start another fight.
So Lia zipped it to her collarbone.
Walter still wasn't done.
"Don't ever… do that kind of work again."
He spoke slowly, but that didn't soften his scolding one bit. She stuffed the envelope back into her bag and let out a short laugh.
"Which kind? The kind where you have to smile while you earn it and beg when it's time to get paid?"
"A young woman like you…"
"You know exactly what kind of work I've done. You were a customer. You're no saint yourself."
The words felt satisfying coming out, but her hand was already reaching over to straighten the cup by his arm.
Walter opened his mouth.
"That night, I wasn't—"
Lia waited.
He looked at her face. His lips moved twice. His left hand slowly released the edge of the blanket, and his gaze drifted toward the window.
"What about that night?" she asked. "Thought the cover charge was too steep and now you want a refund?"
"No."
His voice dropped, and he stopped looking at her.
Her string of retorts suddenly had nowhere to land. The look on his face just now—like he genuinely had something to say.
But the one who'd told her to keep going that night—that had been him.
Lia dragged the small bedside table closer.
"Fine. We'll drop it. Have you eaten?"
"Not yet."
The meal tray sat covered; the food inside had gone lukewarm. She lifted the lid and placed the spoon within reach of his left hand. When he reached for it himself, she let go and sat down, rubbing her knees.
"From now on, you eat here. I'll grab something downstairs. Once you're well enough to go home, you can make good on that kitchen and those pillows."
"Mm."
"Just so we're clear—I am not sleeping in that chair. It has a personal vendetta against me."
Walter glanced at her lower back. She was about to seize the opening for another round of complaints, but he spoke first.
"You don't have to… stay here the whole time."
Lia looked up and saw him holding the spoon, making no move to eat.
"Still holding a grudge about what I said earlier? Fine, I'll upgrade you to half a saint."
"I'll be in the hospital a while. I'm not so helpless that I… can't manage anything."
His eyes moved to the side of the bed. The bedside commode was right there. The nurse had already told Lia that transfers still required assistance—he shouldn't try to tough it out alone.
"The bathroom… I can handle myself. If you have things to do, go."
She eyed the leg under the blanket that hadn't moved at all, then reached over and placed the call button in his left hand.
"If you need to get over there, press this first. Save your energy—and please don't make me pay for a broken bed."
He took the call button reluctantly. After a while, he said: "Come back at mealtimes. And again in the evening."
Lia had just gotten to the second item on her expense list when she heard this. Her fingers stopped.
"Are you worried you can't afford my wages?"
Walter set down the spoon and didn't answer.
She studied him a moment longer. He stared at the meal tray as if staring hard enough might make her charge less.
They'd only discussed room and board earlier; wages hadn't been settled. If she asked him to pay now, she'd just end up worrying whether he'd have enough left for tomorrow.
"All right, I'll find a daytime job too." Lia flipped her phone face-down. "I'll only charge you for the night shift. It's a bargain."
"How much?"
"Haven't decided yet. Consider it on credit until I come up with a number that won't make you reach for the call button."
His brow was still furrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. Before he could change his mind, she ran through the plan again: lunch, dinner, and coming back for the night.
"The nurses do their part; I do mine. If something comes up, press the button. Don't compete with them over who can tough it out longer."
"I know."
He sounded thoroughly impatient, but his hand stayed tight around the call button. She took the empty water cup to refill it, and when she came back, there was a small unopened packet of crackers next to his tray.
"Take it."
"You don't want it?"
"Too hard."
Lia gave the package a squeeze. The crackers inside were all still intact. Her stomach growled right on cue, and she didn't bother with pleasantries.
"Then I'll avenge you."
She tore open the packet and bit into one. Her phone lit up on her thigh.
Casey had sent a phone number, along with a photo of a bakery's window display.
Then a voice message. Lia played it on speaker:
"Walked past this place. They're hiring for the front counter, day shift. You should ask about it."
Lia read the flyer in the photo twice. Plain lettering, no "generous bonuses," no "attractive appearance preferred." It simply said: able to greet customers and show up on time.
"Ask about what?" Walter looked at Lia.
"A new job. Selling bread."
"Can you bake?"
"I can buy it and eat it, but I can't bake it. Relax—they're only hiring for the front counter. You can lower your standards a little."
She texted Casey a thank-you, saved the number, and tapped on a notification that had popped up in her class group chat.
Andy was coming back.
The cracker in her mouth suddenly felt very dry.
Someone asked which day they should all get together. Andy himself hadn't appeared; another classmate had simply mentioned he'd be staying for a few days.
She backed out of the group chat. A few seconds later, she tapped on his profile.
Her last message to him still sat in the chat window, forever unread. She scrolled up a little, then stopped. She didn't need to reread words she'd already looked at too many times.
The ten thousand dollars her mother had left her—she'd transferred every cent to him long ago. At the time he'd said, when I get back. Every time life felt unbearable, she told herself: he had to get leave eventually, he had to come back.
"Crackers no good?"
Walter's voice pulled her back. She shoved the remaining half into her mouth and swallowed too quickly.
"They're fine. Free ones are always especially good."
Lia typed out "Heard you're coming back" and then decided it sounded too much like she'd been watching his every move. She deleted it. After two rounds of second-guessing, what she finally sent was that exact same line.
She set the phone down. Less than a minute later, it buzzed.
Andy: "Yeah, back in a few days. We'll talk when I see you."
Lia held the phone and read the message one more time.
