The Billionaire personal Assistant

‘Punch his face in’ was the only thought in Mackenzie Foster's head. But she couldn't. He was a regular and has won the customer of the month, five times in a row this year alone.

“I said extra caramel, sweetheart. Is there a problem with your hearing, or what?”

Mackenzie forced the corners of her mouth up, a lift that felt more like a grimace than a smile.

She couldn't help it.

The man at the register—forty-something in a cheap suit that strained at the buttons—leered, tapping his credit card against the counter. The late-evening song from the radio mirrored the low thrum of a headache building behind her eyes. “No problem at all, sir,” she said, her voice tired from eight hours of use. “Extra caramel. Coming right up.”

She turned her back to him, gripping the steel pitcher as the smell of burnt sugar and steamed milk that was usually a comfort, turned cloying. Her phone, face-down on the counter by the espresso machine, had buzzed five minutes ago with a text from Simon. Her thumb had itched to reply or even take a ten minute break and run to the back to call him. But after the numerous texts of feeling sick from her nineteen-year-old brother with severe asthma, he sent an ‘all good’ minutes after which in her dictionary meant ‘not currently dying,’ and rent was due Friday.

She was swirling the sickly-sweet concoction when the bell above the door jangled harshly.

Kenzie's head snapped around to see who it was on this Friday evening but she's instead startled by the sudden scream from the customer, the pitcher slipped to the floor clanging for a good couple of long seconds.

Mackenzie froze. Her legs refusing to move when she needed it to.

“Wallet and phone on the counter now, don’t turn around,” A hollow-eyed man said, pointing his gun to no one in particular.

The asshole’s bluster evaporated into a high, thin whimper as he fumbled, his hands shaking violently while he slapped his leather wallet and a shiny smartphone onto the laminate.

“You behind the counter.”

The gun swung toward Kenzie, dragging her out from her shocked trance, the gun made her breath hitch solid in her lungs as the world narrowed to the man, the gun and the smell of sour milk and fear-sweat from the man now pissing himself a few feet away. “Open the register now!”

Robbery.

They are being robbed.

Robbery.

Robbery.

“HEY!” The man angrily yelled, his hand gripping the gun tighter, aiming right at her head. “You want your head blown off you little fucker?! I said open the fucking register now or you get a bullet in your skull.”

Mackenzie’s body moved on autopilot, muscle memory from a hundred closing shifts making her press ‘No Sale’ so the drawer sprang open with a cheerful ding that sounded obscene for the situation. She backed away with her hands raised and her heart hammering against her ribs, it hurts.

The second man wordlessly scooped the cash into a duffel bag and took everyone's wallet and phones on the tables before glancing at her phone on the counter. “Leave it,” the one with the gun said, his eyes flicking to hers for a second. “Just the cash.”

The customers’ sobs echoed in the empty shop, hitting every corner as the men left the shop, the door swinging shut behind them. Kenzie’s fingers pressed against her forehead as she tried to catch her breath.

Shit!

Shit!!!

She looked around taking in the faces of the customers who were scrambling for their belongings while a few others tried to call the cops with a hidden phone.

What the heck is she supposed to do now?!

Evan would fucking flip if he knew the shop was robbed while she was duty. She face-palmed herself.

As if being seen as bad luck wasn't enough.

Her phone suddenly buzzed, startling her. “Fuck!” She yanked it off the counter  with one hand, heart hammering when she saw Mrs. Gable’s name. She picked immediately.

“Kenzie? Honey, you need to come home right now.” Her voice strained with work and age sounded panicked. And without being told, Kenzie already knew it was the same old dreadful news she could never get used to. “It’s Simon. He's having difficulty breathing. The ambulance is on its way, but I—”

Her chest tightened, the image of her brother lying on the floor, gasping for air tugged at it. She tugged off her apron without thinking. “I’m coming,” she whispered into the phone.

One of the customers who stayed back shot forward grabbing her arm. “You can’t leave! You’re a witness! The police—”

Kenzie twisted and yanked her hand free, almost glaring at him. “Get the fuck away from me!” she yelled and pushed past him to the door.

She rushed out and almost bumped into Marie who's supposed to come an hour later for her shift. Mackenzie shut her eyes in relief. “Hi, uh, Marie.”

Marie pulled the lollipop she was sucking on out of her mouth. “Hey, Girl, you look like you just ran a marathon —”

“The shop was robbed and my brother is having an attack right now. Please can you cover for me? I really need to go with him to the hospital.”

Marie's mouth dropped open, “What do you mean rob—”

“I really can't explain right now. They're still some customers there and I'm guessing the cops will arrive any minute now. I really need to go. Thank you.”

She bowed and continued running. Afraid getting a taxi would only slow her down. She dashed across the street taking a shortcut and soon arrived just as the paramedics were loading the gurney into the back of the ambulance where in the flashing red and white light Simon looked small and terrifyingly pale with an oxygen mask covering the lower half of his face, but his eyes were wide open and…scared.

Mrs. Gable, wrapped in a floral housecoat, walked over to where she was and pressed a twenty into Kenzie’s hand. “For the cab, Honey. Both of you should come home safely.”

Kenzie climbed in beside the gurney and held Simon’s cold hand as the ambulance doors slammed shut, sealing them in the very bright cocoon of beeping machines and medics who asked questions about Simon's medical history and medications and triggers.

~

The moment they arrived at the hospital, Simon was whisked away and a nurse handed her a clipboard thick with forms as she was asked to wait outside.

She sat on a rigid plastic chair with the blank form on her lap as the adrenaline receded and left a hollow, shaky exhaustion in its wake.

What happened?

What happened this time?

Mackenzie wondered.

The last time they visited the hospital was because Simon ran out of his inhaler, and coming back here for a different reason scared her.

What happened? Did he have a dream about their parents this time? Was he bullied? But he was at home all through, how was he bullied inside? None of it made any sense. In all the texts he sent none of it mentioned having difficulty breathing again, he did say he was feeling weird, after he watched some romedy movie.

Which happens all the time.

It was his kind of movie. So what the fuck happened?

She palmed her mouth, sucking in a deep breath as she stared at the ‘Insurance Information’ section on the clipboard. The blank lines taunting her.

Fuck!

She pulled out her phone and turned it on, the lock screen showed a photo of them from years ago with Simon grinning with missing teeth and her arms wrapped around him, she sighed and opened her banking app, the number there was better not being there.

How the fuck was that supposed to pay for the bills?

Evan wouldn't think twice taking three months worth of her pay to cover for the money stolen , and as unfortunate as that might be, she couldn't leave. It was the only place willing to hire her with a certificate or something.

Suddenly everyone cares about school.

Her phone suddenly buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

+1 (312) ***-***3:: You in for a quick job?

As if doubting that would convince her to agree, another one popped in almost immediately.

+1 (312) ***-***3:: Pay is huge.