pure vanilla

Shad worked as a waiter in a big restaurant not just for fun, but for his studies, his budget and... his parents' debts. Money flowed through his fingers like sand, and he clung to any opportunity to survive. But this restaurant was not just a job, it was a chance.

Shad didn't get here by accident. Experience in things that are better not to advertise, and connections with the right people did their job. Great friends pushed him here, knowing that Shad wouldn't miss. And he also had a small but burning dream: to hit the jackpot one day. Not just tips, but something serious.

And here he is - the Mafioso. Cold eyes, an expensive suit, but a hidden threat in every movement. He came with important people, sat at the VIP table, and it was the shad who served them. Whiskey, snacks, quiet negotiations. The shad caught every word, every look. And he ... looked at the shad with a grin. Not just like that. With desire? With calculation? The shad noticed. He always noticed the unnecessary, this is his specialty. Unnecessary conversations, looks, gestures - everything was deposited in his head. "Maybe he will give a good tip?" he hoped, but something else was already stirring inside.

Time passed, Shad approached their table to pay and saw gunshots.

One. Another.

Their deal had failed. Blood splattered on his shirt, and the shad froze with his mouth open, not even having time to scream. A blow to the head with a rifle butt. Darkness. Shad woke up only in a moving car. His head was buzzing, his hands were tied. Next to him was a mafioso. He was talking on the phone, his voice was calm, but every word made the blood run cold:

"- Yes, he's with me... He's seen too much... And it seems he has something I need."