Page 15 of For Life
Wiping down tables and jiggling my bubble butt in a flouncy skirt, I thought about how I’d helped Shepherd sound-proof the ceiling. At the time, I thought it was for the noise going up into their living space, but I learned the truth as I became their friend. Shepherd hadn’t wanted the noise upstairs to be heard in the restaurant.
Working at the Kitchen as a chef had been a dream come true, from getting me off the streets to truly loving the work. I couldn’t help thinking about how I wanted to create the same environment of radical inclusion and helping others. Not just because it made for a better work environment, but because more work spaces should be like that.
When I moved on to the tables by the windows, I could see people across the street. But instead of looking like the usual person out after dark—people headed to parties or those who sleep there—I saw a shady large-bodied person and a blonde woman dressed way too nicely for the neighborhood. The man was in a fancy coat and wore a hat that shaded his face, and he jumped back when a cop approached. Maybe they would get harassed for whatever they were doing. Likely something illegal by how shifty they were. I had to get closer up to the window to watch the drama, almost leaning my face against it to see them under a broken streetlight. To my surprise, the heavyset cop and the man shook hands like they knew one another.
Another person approached the group, but this guy looked like an outsider in a basic trench coat and with dark hair. The other three looked like they didn’t like him, and he didn’t like them either.
The new man pulled something shiny out of his coat, but a loud bang rang out before I could register it was a gun. One of those people just shot him, right there on the street, only thirty feet from me. I screamed, but my ears were ringing and I barely heard myself. I had been around guns as a kid, but always wore earmuffs.
“Holy fuck! What the fuck do I do?”
Wait, I should call 911, that was the first thing. My fingers fumbled as I got the phone out of my apron pocket and I opened the emergency thing on my home screen, then put it on speaker.
“Hello, this is nine-one-one, please state the nature of your emergency?”
Looking back out the window, because I wanted to be accurate and also forgot the cross-street in my shock, I noticed the group was looking my way. The cop had disappeared, but the first two were walking my way. “Shit!”
“Sir,” the feminine voice was commanding but also annoyed, “Are you calling about an actual emergency?”
“Yes,” I whispered and ran behind the counter, as the blonde and the hulking man with her approached, guns drawn. I couldn’t remember streets or addresses at all, there was only fear. “I just saw a shooting. Across from Shepherd's Kitchen, in the Mission.”
“Sir, I am sending units,” the misgendering gave me pause, but it wasn’t the time or place for correcting. “Are you someplace safe or are you in danger right now?”
“I-I’m hiding behind the counter, but–” another gunshot was punctuated by banging on the bulletproof glass shepherd had installed. “They’re trying to break in!”
“Stay quiet and hidden,” she told me in a calmer voice, and I put the phone on silent, “there’s already an officer en route. Don’t hang up...”
Her voice faded away under the pulse pounding in my ears. I covered them to block out the banging and yelling that sounded like Russian, until the sound of sirens punctuated everything else. I didn’t come out, but I picked the phone back up.
“I think the police are here,” I told the operator, “And the people with guns stopped trying to get in.”
“Good, stay on with me until you hear the police and they tell you to come out,” her soothing voice gave me the courage to peak around the corner, but I could only see the reflection of red and blue lights getting closer. “I’m Nakisha.”
“Thank you, Nakisha, you’ve helped a lot,” I reassured her, figuring the job was hard enough and she likely got very little praise. A new bang on the glass door startled me into a squeak.
“Are you alright?”
“Police, the area is clear,” a masculine voice called out, “please open the door!”
Popping my head up just enough to see while still crouching, the sight of Maxx in uniform was like dipping in a hot bath when it was snowing out. I ignored my phone and poor, helpful Nakisha, in my dash to unlock the door.
“Thank god you’re here,” I almost hugged him until I saw the drawn gun, so I stepped back and let him enter. Maxx was looking at exits and hiding spots, so I mostly saw that tight rear end, but I could still help. “No one but me is inside. They tried to shoot and pummel their way in, but it’s bulletproof.”
There was a large shattering pattern in one window pane, which would have to be replaced, but otherwise the restaurant seemed unharmed. Outside I saw two cop cars and a fire truck, with all of those men in uniform huddled around the dead guy across the street.
“What’s going on down here?” Shepherd asked as he rushed into the room.
Maxx turned to point his gun at Shepherd, with Roman right behind. Seeing who it was, he holstered it and turned to me. Guess I had the answers. “I–”
The door burst open behind me and I yelped, grabbing onto Maxx’s arm. Except he didn’t draw his gun. The person bursting in short of breath was the rude cop I remembered working with Maxx. This mustachioed jerk had misgendered my friends, and I was not a fan. His uniform was poorly buttoned and not tucked properly at his belt, and his hand never left his taser.
“Wu,” he panted, “how’d you get here so fast?”
“Captain sent me after you, since partners aren’t supposed to patrol on their own,” Maxx addressed his partner, “I was almost here when I heard the gunshots. What were you doing here, Matlock?”
“I was parked around the corner—where dealers hang out by the park—when I heard the shots.” Matlock said this as if it was normal and common, but Maxx’s narrowed eyes told me he didn’t quite buy it. “Is this the suspect? Why isn’t she cuffed?”
“Theyare the witness,” Maxx said through gritted teeth.