11 - A Clean Slate
Josh was washing his hands for the nth time, before tackling the cutting of the pricy cod he got from the distant grocery. Too many distractions around him, too many worries circling over his bald head like vultures.
A clean slate, he had said to himself, over and over.
He had emptied his personal account to get away, and changed his appearance. No one from Rafe’s “family” in N.Y. should be able to retrace him here. The old restaurant had been set up in Rafe’s name: at first, he had felt hurt that Rafe had not signed him as co-owner. But the money was flowing in, the clients happy, the critics raving: that was all that counted.
After the fire, he had figured out that Rafe had tried to protect him from retaliation by the unsavory crowd he hung around.
Nevertheless, J
