Chapter One #2
“The what?” I ask, my head swiveling back to her, but before I can clarify, she screams toward the kitchen.
“TWO SCOOBY SNACKS!” My eyes widen. Richard has seagulls. Is the Scooby Snack destined to be my downfall?
A clattering of pans rings out as a large Albanian-looking man with tattoos up his arms and a hairnet on despite having a shaved head.
“This guy?” He eyes me up and down with a slow assessment that annoys me more than it should.
“Alexei, this is my boss. He can handle it, I promise,” Mia sings. “Besides, his brother is an NHL player—strong stomachs.” She pats her belly as if that might alter his opinion of me.
“Who’s your brother?” he says, his accent thickening.
“Teddy Adams.”
“How’s his shoulder?”
“Err, fine?”
Did something happen to Teddy’s shoulder? I need to call him. But I had the same thought a month ago, and the last three months before that. I actually can’t recall the last time we spoke to each other. Work has been taking up all of my time, especially now.
“Tell him, he comes to Alexei’s café, I give him Scooby Snack for taking such hard hit last week. He did good.” Alexei interrupts my list of incessant failings before swiftly turning on his heel and disappearing into the kitchen. The clattering pan noises ring through the air almost instantly.
Mia whips out her card, but I grab her wrist to stop her from tapping and pull out my wallet, holding it in place until I hear the beep.
“Thanks, boss.”
“You're welcome.”
“It’s probably for the best.” Her lips curling into a small smile.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if the Scooby Snack kills you, and they found out I bought it for you, I could be tried for murder, right? This way, it would be ruled as an accidental death.”
What is she talking about? I’m frowning, she’s grinning, the lady behind the counter snorts. Quite suddenly, I’m concerned for my welfare as I lift to my toes to try and peek into the kitchen behind the counter.
“Should I be concerned, Mia?” I ask, dryly.
She shrugs, her black as night hair shining as if the moonlight had somehow imbedded itself into the strands. “I’m sure you can handle it.” Her eyes crinkle at the edges and she bites down on her lip after the words spill out, a faint blush hitting her cheeks as if something obscene sprang to mind.
I keep my eyes on her lips for a fraction of a second longer before drawing my gaze away, reminding myself that I’m not really here to eat lunch, or make lingering stares at my employee. I'm here to stop a patient doing something illegal and potentially hurting someone.
I step away from the counter and try to relocate the bleach-blond mass of hair that is no doubt eyeing up his next victim.
“Stressful day, Dr. Adams?” Mia asks sweetly, pulling out a chair and slipping into it, close enough that I take a deep inhale of her perfume.
Fucking flowers. Lavender mostly, and despite what people say about the relaxing effect of lavender on the body, it could not be further from the truth with this woman.
I’m tense, frowning, my body in constant need of something more than what my brain will permit it.
I take the seat next to her, holding in another audible sigh that would no doubt make her flinch again.
It’s a reaction that I have grown guilty about recently.
It doesn’t help when she calls me Dr. Adams. I’ve always preferred to be called Alfie, or even Dr. Alfie just to keep things as informal as possible.
But hearing her sweet voice hum does things to me.
It makes me imagine things. Things that absolutely should not be happening between me and my employee.
“Just hungry.”
“Hangry then. I get that. Hence the Scooby Snack. I’ve got a big evening of preparing for my dissertation defense and honestly…I can only get through it when the prospect of an outrageous amount of food is on offer.”
“Then I’m happy to help,” I reply, my eyes fixed on the back of Vincent’s head.
“TWO SCOOBY SNACKS!”
Mia jumps to her feet, hustling over to the woman who screamed out our order despite us only sitting five feet away from her.
Just as Mia heads to the door, a tall, blonde woman meanders through the tables from the back. I watch as Vincent’s head pops up and he licks his lips in what looks like anticipation. Like a hunter who has found his next meal, he’s itching to start the chase.
He waits a few seconds, throws a couple of bills onto the table and follows her out.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing Mia’s arm as she cradles the two most humongous sandwiches I’ve ever seen.
Both of them together are the size of a ten-month-old baby.
I’m half expecting her to yell Surprise!
and reveal a small dog. She hands me the monster sandwich, and I suddenly understand why she thinks she might get put away for murder if she bought it for me.
It’s an entire loaf of bread, sliced longways, spilling out with what looks like five types of sliced deli meat, heart attack infused mayonnaise, I’d estimate half a jar of pickles, and oh yes, a small leaf of lettuce just to balance out the artery clogging monstrosity that somehow Mia manages to eat in one sitting.
It looks bigger than a football, maybe even a basketball, which is frankly ridiculous given the size of her.
I may split my intestines if I consume all this in one sitting.
Is she really going to eat all of this? How long does it take her?
I shake my head, remembering the reason I brought her here.
I need to make a decision. Am I going to follow Vincent and prevent a potential crime, or am I going to play it safe and take Mia back to the office?
Mia takes a bite out of her sandwich, a blob of mayonnaise resting on the side of her lip before she grins at me, nodding at the sandwich.
She’s so carefree sometimes it aches to look at her.
What if someone did to her what Vincent is about to do to someone else?
How would I feel about myself if I found out in a day or two that someone had become a victim of Vincent again and I did nothing to stop it? What would Mia think of me?
And with that final thought, I grab her hand and speed walk out of the café, the bell ringing behind me as my shoes slap against the sidewalk.
Mia attempts to keep up, but she’s wearing her most frequently worn pair of heels, a nude three-inch which she walks remarkably well in despite the fact that the thin spike of her stiletto looks like it could be used as a lethal weapon if necessary.
“Alfie, we have time; there’s no need to rush.”
“Come on.” I peek my head over the pedestrians and watch as the blonde woman heads between two buildings. I know there’s a connecting path to the next block, but the alleyway she’s taken is dark and sketchy, only dumpsters and whatever trash has been left over littering the pathway.
“Alfie, what the hell is going on?”
I thrust the sandwich in her hands so she looks like she’s cradling twins.
I take off down the street but hear the clip of her heels close behind me.
“Alfie!” she whisper-shouts. “I’m gonna need a raise if you keep making me run in these shoes. It’s not in my goddamn contract, and you know it.”
“Head back to the office. I’ll meet you there.”
At least then she won’t have to be a witness to what comes next.
And what exactly am I going to do? When Vincent left me a tempting hint of his afternoon schedule it was almost as if he dared me to follow him.
What can I do in this situation? I can’t exactly charge right in there and stop him from committing a crime without admitting that I’d been following him.
I try to rationalize how I could explain this to the police…
or anyone. My father’s disappointed face springs to mind at the sight of me in handcuffs, a mugshot plastered over every newspaper in the state.
I’m catastrophizing. I know I am. I need to—.
“Like hell I’m going back now—wait a minute—" Mia’s head cranes past me as we watch Vincent turn into the alleyway.
I knew that son of a bitch was still creeping on women.
I fucking knew. My blood is boiling with rage.
He’s been kept out of prison after repeatedly exposing himself to women in public but started escalating by grabbing their hands to touch him too.
It’s disgusting, and he was court-ordered to attend therapy sessions to rehabilitate this behavior, but I knew he was feeding me bullshit every week.
Despite the rage, a triumphant surge of validation shudders through my body until I can feel my shoulders pull back, my chest push out, I could fucking roar with satisfaction.
“That’s Vincent,” Mia finishes. “Oh no you don’t, you little shit,” she mutters before stomping round the corner.
Her face is full of righteous indignation, and honestly…
she's stunning. Brows pinched together, a snarl pulling at her lip. She’s ready for battle, and her three-inch heels aren’t going to stop her.
“Mia, wait a minute, he’s dangerous—"
Oh God. She’s running. She launches the Scooby Snacks into an open dumpster, the loud thud of what could have only done damage to my insides, reverberates, whilst Mia takes off like she’s started the Olympic one hundred meter sprint.
I pick up my pace, if only to prevent her from launching a counterattack.
Instead, like a good boss, I manage to overtake her, and as Vincent pulls open the long jacket he’s wearing, a loud whistle rings through the air.
“AVERT YOUR EYES!” Mia screams from behind me, presumably to the woman who is about to see a tiny chode of a penis.
I’m a few yards from Vincent now and as the woman turns, her mouth parting in what is about to become an eardrum bursting scream, I launch myself forward and tackle the cock-flashing son of a bitch, launching him into a filthy, oil slick puddle.
“Gah, what the hell are you doing?” he screams, his elbow launching back and jabbing into my cheekbone.
I scramble back, my ears ringing from the still-screaming woman, my eye burning with a sharp pain, and an onslaught of punches come my way.
I feel my lip split, the crunch of a fist on my nose has blood pissing out of my face as Vincent and his willy, that pokes out of the hole of his boxers, straddle me.
“Oh no you don’t, Vincent,” Mia shouts.
I open one eye and watch her pull up the back of his long coat and reach down.
What the hell is she doing?
Her eyes burning with a rage that should be terrifying, and yet I can’t not look at her.
She could pass for an avenging angel if she wasn’t smiling so demonically.
The woman stops screaming. I can see her from the corner of my eye, waiting to see what Mia has in store for the unsuspecting male sitting on top of me.
It takes no time at all for Vincent’s eyes to widen, tears brimming at the edges, as his mouth parts in a silent scream. I watch Mia yank her arm as high as possible, gripping his underwear.
She’s wedgied him.
My employee has wedgied one of my patients.