Throne Read Online Free

down orders. Now, thought Maya, now . Ignoring calls and finger snaps, avoiding eyes and pretending not to notice people waving their hands at her, she threaded her way to the back of the restaurant and then, instead of turning left into the kitchen, ducked right out the service door, down the claustrophobic hall that led past the restrooms and to the back door that led outside.
    Bursting out the door, she immediately sidestepped and placed her back against the cement wall, allowing the delicious cold to snapfreeze the sweat that covered her body, that ran down the slopes of her back, that plastered her thick black hair to her brow. Closing her eyes she leaned her head back against the wall and rose to her tiptoes, trying to work the ache out of her ankles, squeezing her calves tight. Rotated the joints, and then sank back down with a sigh. Already she was beginning to shiver. Just one more moment. Just another second of silence.
    She’d been working since morning, nonstop since ten. It was what, nine o’clock now? The restaurant was starting to get busy, kids drifting down from the East Village, but mostly locals, Chinese from the Garment District filling the single massive front room with their clamor and clatter, demanding more and more food. Another four hours at least ahead of her, and for what? Two dollars an hour. Which she then had to hand over to Senora Mercedes before running over to work the night shift at the clothing factory.
    Standing still, all of New York City vibrating around her, eyes closed, the cold so harsh and mean it still shocked her, she thought for a moment of São Paulo. Tried to evoke memories grown threadbare and thin with the passage of years, but all the more precious for it. Like a prisoner rationing a bar of smuggled chocolate, knowing there’s no replacing it, knowing that each square is priceless, she thought of their old kitchen, so different from Mrs. Peng’s hellhole, the sound of her mother humming as she chopped up vegetables to dump in the feijoada , the delicious smell of pao de queijo in the oven, the sound of the TV as her dad watched and yelled at another game in the living room, his team always losing. Eyes closed, Maya held her breath and tried to recall that old feeling of happiness, of safety, of being exactly where she was supposed to be.
    The door next to her burst open, and she looked up to see Chang standing furiously next to her, heavy hand sweeping out to catch her on the back of the head as she stepped away from the wall to send her spilling down onto the hard snow and cement. Maya bit her lip, swallowed down her cry of pain and anger, and looked up through her suddenly disheveled hair at where Chang towered over her.
    “What do we pay you for? What do we pay you for, stupid girl, hiding out here and not working?! You want we fire you? You want go home right now, no job, no money? Inside! Customer’s yelling for food, food growing cold on counter, you out here hiding!”
    Maya knew better than to answer back. The cold had seeped in deeper than she had thought, and for a long moment she didn’t know if she would be able to stand. So tired. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t been awoken by somebody roughly shoving her to get to work. Gritting her teeth, she jerked herself up and stormed past Chang before he had the chance to hit her again. Throwing her hair back, tying it into a ponytail with an angry twist, she knocked the kitchen doors open, crying out, “Ok caralho , let’s go, let’s go, where’s my food, where’s my food?”
    All thoughts of São Paulo gone from her mind.
     
    Hours later, having pushed through the weariness into some strange clarity that lurked beyond, Maya pulled off her waist apron and dumped it in the cubby hole beneath the cash register. There were still a few tables, but they were just waiting for their checks, ordering a last drink, delaying the inevitable need to step back outside into the cold. The kitchen was