21. Caz
Chapter 21
Caz
A s much as I hated pushing Shiloh into the coffee shop, I knew it was the right thing to do. She deserved a shot at happiness, and if Ember was that person, I would support her. But so help me, if Ember did anything to hurt her, it would be the last thing she ever did.
Shiloh might have thought I was kidding when I said I would bitch slap Ember, but I was already itching to get my hands on her. And if she caused Shiloh any kind of pain, that was all it would take to push me over the edge.
What was wrong with me? Since when did I become the fighting type? I wasn’t a vigilante. I needed to get myself together before going in there.
“She’s just a friend. She’s just a friend. She’s—” My phone rang, interrupting my chant. “This is Caz,” I barked into the phone, and Matrix’s laugh echoed from the other end.
“Going that well?”
“I was in the middle of something. What do you need?” I shouldn’t have been short with him because I knew this was the last time we would really get to work together, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind right now.
“I didn’t need anything. Just wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay. Sorry to disturb you.”
“No, you’re fine. I need to get inside, though, so I can tape Shy asking Ember out.”
“Shy? Is that your pet name for her?” He was teasing, but it pissed me off.
“Shut up. I heard Sonya call her that before, and it just came out. Do you want to give me more shit about it, or do you want your footage?”
“By all means, continue. I’m glad you’re getting something useful.”
“All right. I’ll talk to you later.” I was about to hang up, but his voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Don’t sacrifice yourself for the sake of this show.”
“Since when do you believe that?” I scoffed.
“You know I care about you, and I don’t want to see you hurt. Do what’s going to make you happy.” He was sincere, and I fought back my emotions because I had a job to do.
“Same. Everything will be okay, but I better go.” I abruptly ended the call before he made me cry.
After finishing my last, “She’s just a friend,” I took a beat, then headed inside. The place was unexpectedly busy for a weekday, which would help me go unnoticed. Since I had a Lavalier microphone, which worked as an extender for audio when I recorded on my phone, I could stay out of the way without missing anything.
Everyone seemed concerned with themselves, so I had no reason to be worried about being spotted. I stood in the back corner, diagonal from the counter, and out of Shiloh’s sight. I pressed record as she stepped up, and Ember approached. Even though she and I couldn’t find out much on Ember’s social media, from my assessment, it seemed like she was self-absorbed. Of course, I didn’t use those words when talking to Shiloh about her. But my advice was to lead with a compliment because I figured she would eat that shit up.
I waited patiently, hoping one of them would talk, but it seemed they were in the same staring contest Ember and I had been in before. Although I wanted to say something to break the awkward silence, I had to stay in the shadows. Finally, Shiloh opened her mouth.
“Hello.”
So much for flattery to win her over. Maybe she would follow it with something sweet.
“Flat white, please.” She pulled out her money and stepped aside without making further eye contact or small talk.
Was this part of her tactic? Was she playing hard to get? I mean, that might work, too. Ignore her to the point where she begged for attention? It was possible.
When Ember called Shiloh’s name, notifying her that the drink was ready, I zoomed the video in. I watched as Shiloh ran her fingers through her hair, causing it to fall in that effortlessly seductive way. My breath hitched, but I remained calm. That was until I saw Ember’s reaction. She looked like a smitten kitten, and I thought I might get sick.
This was what Matrix meant by not sacrificing myself. It was excruciating to witness someone unworthy fawn all over her. When I saw Ember touch Shiloh’s fingers as she handed her the cup, I’d had enough. I stopped taping and headed out. Maybe Shiloh could tape their date. All I knew was that it couldn’t be me.
Once I got to my car, I drove off, not knowing where to go. I should have called Matt and told him what had happened, but I was afraid of what he might say. Instead, I wandered around downtown, aimlessly planning my next move. But I didn’t have one. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a sign that read, "The Hideaway," and I pulled over.
I wasn’t sure what the place was, but it was like a beacon, so I got out and went inside. As I entered, everyone’s heads turned and stared. I scanned the place, and the bar was filled with women whose gaze was fixated on me. By the pride flags and female empowerment symbols, it was evident this was a queer bar, and I was either fresh meat or out of place.
Hoping to divert attention away from myself, I hurriedly sat on one of the stools, and the bartender immediately approached.
“What can I get ya?” The lady was probably in her mid-fifties, but there was a youthfulness to her light-colored eyes.
“Um, I’m not much of a drinker, especially not during the day. What would you suggest?” One way to fit in was to be friendly with the workers.
“Well, what brings you in here? You lost?”
I wondered if her question was deeper than surface level, but I kept my response in the middle. “I think I’m where I’m supposed to be, but I’ve had a rough day.”
“Okay, well, do you want something like a Mind Eraser, or are you looking more for a Leg Spreader?”
I cleared my throat, trying not to show my shock at the two ends of the spectrum. "Well, I haven't tried either, but maybe there’s something in the middle?" I had no clue what that would be, but surely one drink wouldn’t knock me on my ass.
“All right, a Tight Snatch coming up.”
I gazed at her curiously, wondering how that was a compromise between my prior options, but I wouldn’t argue. As she made my drink, I spun around on the stool and noticed that most of the once curious gazes were now diverted. But a group of three women in the back were facing my way.
The low lighting cast shadows over them, obscuring their features, but they were possibly staring at me.
“Here ya go. One Tight Snatch.” I turned back to the bartender and tried not to laugh.
The thought, “That’s what she said,” floated through my mind, but it made me sad now because it reminded me of Shiloh.
I picked up my drink, which was pink and fruity-looking, and used the little umbrella to stir it. I started slowly, taking a small sip to ease my tastebuds into this new experience. It was sweet but enjoyable. While I nursed the drink, I pulled out my phone and saw a load of notifications, mostly from Matrix but a couple from Shiloh. I wasn’t ready to go back to the real world, so I turned off my phone and focused on pushing the unwanted thoughts out of my head.
As I took my next drink, someone approached the bar and sat beside me. I peeked in her direction but didn’t make eye contact. I assumed she was placing an order, so I focused on my glass, avoiding any potentially awkward conversation.
“I’m sorry to bother you.” Her voice was throaty but soft.
Now, I had no choice but to acknowledge her. “No bother. What’s up?” I took a sip and waited for her response.
“You’re not Caz Montgomery, are you?” She seemed overly curious, and I wanted to roll my eyes.
Typically, that was an opener for someone to start flirting or ask for a favor.
“I am she.” A fake smile played on my lips as I prepared for what she would say next.
“Did you used to date Davia Mikaelson?”
What the fuck? Where did that come from? Shock and nausea surged through me, making my face burn with an intense heat. I gulped down the remainder of my drink, desperately seeking relief from these unsettling feelings.
“Why do you ask?” I came here to escape the thoughts of Shiloh and Ember, but I didn't want memories of Davia to take their place.
“Because I didn’t believe her when she told me.” She glanced over her shoulder, and I followed her line of sight—the table in the back.
She was here… right now? Of course, she was. Why would I expect anything different? The universe had a PhD in being an asshole.