"Look, do we have a problem?" she asked, letting some heat into her voice.
The officer took his foot off the gas, letting the truck slow but not stop. Suddenly the truck cabin felt very, very small.
Oh, shit.
"Do we... have... a problem...?” Officer Marsh repeated. His voice was rough, and he sounded like he was turning the words over in his mind. Well, at least he's talking to me.
"Do you mean," the officer continued, her voice still slow and ruthless. "Like, do we have a problem with you coming into town and taking over Alice's place before she's had time to grow cold?”
“It was for sale-”
“Or were you thinking more, do we have a problem with you just showing up like you belong here and expecting everyone to fall all over themselves to be your friend?"
Kyara opened her mouth to protest, but Office Marsh was in control now. His voice rode right over her.
"Or maybe you mean, do we have a problem with you taking that poor troubled girl's time away from her mama, where she should be. That one could be it."
Wait, Crystal's not troubled. She's a good kid! What's he...
"Or maybe you mean, do we have a problem with you coming into town and stealing local boys away from nice girls?"
Wait, what? That one isn't even fair!
But now the white officer's tone was low and menacing.
Kyara choked on her anger, suddenly scared by the look of rage and contempt filling the driver's reddening face.
"Do we have a problem?" He let the other shoe drop, his voice vicious. "No. No problem. Everyone knows you're a failure, and pretty soon, your little cafeteria is going to run out of money, and you'll be gone."
The truck was pulling up behind her restaurant now, and he gestured at it with an angry chop of his hand.
Kyara swallowed, and tried to focus her mind through her anger.
"Listen, asshole. That shit you just said isn’t fair. I..." but her voice was cut off as the red-faced man screamed at her, pounding on the steering wheel as he did.
"You can act like we all owe you something all you want, but no one owes you shit. Everyone knows people like you don't actually do anything. I'd tell you to cry home to daddy, but I bet we both know why you can’t.”
The words slammed into her like a blow to the gut. How did he know?
Kyara threw the door open, running for her back door. I will not cry in front of him. I will not.
Once she was inside, though, the door slammed behind her, Kyara slumped down. Her sobs filled the empty dining hall.
Is my guilt so obvious? Oh, Papa, it's all my fault.
Kyara collapsed to a table, silently shaking in that face of the man's accusations, but more in the face of her own guilt.
The sun had gone down, leaving the dining room illuminated only by the lights of the street through the windows. After hours of crying, Kyara had fallen into a kind of a numb stupor. She still hadn't moved, though her eyes hurt and her throat was sore. Only a frantic knocking at her door finally forced her out of her stupor.
"Go away," she called out, her voice thick from her weeping.
"Kyara?" came Jason's voice. "I came to ... are you okay?"
Horrified, Kyara started wiping her eyes on the tablecloth in front of her.
"I'm fine," she called out. "Go away."
"Uh, If that's what you want, I can go. I just ... I just wanted to check and see what happened. Rick came back and said you weren't going to help out after all?"