“Some?” Halo said, mouth agape. “There was nothing wrong with how it was before.”
“Well, whenever customers come in, it’s not obvious where they should go next,” Raven said, pointing to how her new layout fixed that.
“It does get a little confusing in here,” Doc said thoughtfully, and Raven’s heart leaped at the apparent endorsement.
She’d come to learn that Doc was very levelheaded and smart. His cosign had to mean something to the others.
But Silas dashed those hopes by saying, “This setup would be an immediate fire code violation.”
He walked across the room to the back door—the fire exit, where he attempted to open said door, but the motion was impeded by a set of chairs she’d placed there to extend the waiting area.
“Also…” Silas said, moving back to the front entrance to flick the edge of the welcome mat with the toe of his worn boot. “You removed the duct tape. It was ugly but necessary because this is now a tripping hazard.”
He then showed how a shelf she’d shifted, mere inches to the right, now blocked access to one of the fire extinguishers affixed to the wall.
Her cheeks grew warm as Silas continued to point out more oversights. The whole situation was made worse by the subtle but present smug look on Halo’s face and how Bodie and Doc seemed to be embarrassed on her behalf.
It was all very awkward, but Raven was going to cling to some semblance of her pride, so she did as Teller’s rule #16 said and attempted to assert herself.
“Sorry, could I speak with you in private, Silas?” Raven asked, interrupting him mid-critique.
She walked to the storage closet and directed him inside with her hand. He hesitated, and she wondered how she’d respond if he outright refused. But he strode into the room, albeit leisurely.
When she closed the door behind them and finally turned to face him, she said, “I understand that my presence is inconvenient for you, but I need you to show me some respect. If you have a problem with something I’ve done, pull me aside and let me know like I’m doing now instead of whatever you did out there.”
“All right, noted. And I wasn’t trying to embarrass you, so I apologize,” Silas said. “Anything else?”
She shook her head. “Not unless you have something to get off your chest.”
He opened his mouth but quickly shut it.
“No, come on, share your thoughts,” she said, tilting her head to meet his face more squarely.
“I have nothing constructive to say.”
“Then give me the unconstructive,” she said. Maybe if they cleared the air with the unspoken feelings, it’d lessen the weirdness between them.
His jaw worked for a moment before he said, “You annoy me.”
“I annoy you? Okay?” She laughed and crossed her arms. “It explains that scary-looking vein that pops out in your neck whenever I speak.”
It was his turn to laugh humorlessly. “Is it pride that won’t make you accept this isn’t your thing?”
“Is it arrogance that makes you think you can tell me what is and isn’t my thing?”
“You pretty much admitted that yourself when you gave up.”
“I didn’t give up.”
“You sighed the bill of sale.”
“And yet I’m still here,” she said with a flare of her hands like a game show model introducing a prize.
“This is some summer project to you. I’ve put blood, sweat, and tears into this place—”
“Wait, is that what was on the shelves in here?” she asked, looking around the storage room she’d cleaned her first day.
An exasperated sound left Silas’s mouth in a puff. “Cute.”
