Chapter 2
Myssa
The small coffee shop has become our go-to throughout the years.
Immediately, the aroma of coffee penetrates my senses as I walk in.
“Thieves” from Ministry echoes throughout the small shop, forcing me to tap my fingers against my leg to the beat.
Original photography of abandoned train depots and steel mills is displayed throughout.
Vix hasn’t made it here yet, but she’s usually a few minutes late.
Working nights and sleeping days will do that.
Street smarts and sass is always how she lives.
Her parents are both alcoholics, and they ignored her for the most part as a child.
She’d spent a lot of time living in her car, or hopping from couch to couch after high school.
Her last bar gig had paid her enough to get her on her feet and into her own apartment.
But when she caught wind of this new industrial club opening, she’d jumped on the chance to interview.
Hopefully, it helped that our other friend Knox was going to be head of security and had put a good word in for her.
As I stand in line, my thoughts drift back to the elevator.
To him. There was something there I’ve never felt before.
As if he were familiar, or that we’ve played out this dance before, but there’s no way that could be right.
Is there? Trying to shake the thoughts out of my head, I look at the menu.
While deciding whether to try something new, I search for my wallet in my purse.
“Boo!”
I gasp at Vix’s soft voice and spin around, smacking her on the shoulder in annoyance.
“Fucker—you scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry, not sorry.” Vix shrugs as she stands there, smiling.
Her long purple-and-silver locks are tied back into pigtails.
Smokey black eyeliner and purple eyeshadow frame her eyes, and her purple lipstick with a black outline matches her theme.
A black V-neck, black parachute pants and Doc Marten boots add to the aesthetic.
Vix unapologetically bleeds sex, goth, and sin rolled up in her cute little body, but there’s only one guy who has her heart—though she will never admit it.
“Oh, I see we dressed up for this interview?” I grin, as her usual attire is skirts and fishnet stockings.
“Yeah, well, since Knox was the one who helped me get this interview, I thought I’d make an effort.” She blows a bubble with her gum and pops it in my face.
The guy who has her heart? Yeah, that would be Knox.
We met him years ago on the club scene, and he’s been attached to us ever since.
He’d started working as a bouncer two years ago, then landed a job as head of security at the new club where Vix had just interviewed.
Towering at six-four, blond hair, blue eyes, and sleekly muscled body, he’s intimidating, but oozes the sex appeal and cockiness you’d expect from someone with his looks.
The two of them have been playing this lovesick song and dance for as long as I can remember.
But neither have made a move yet. It’s something Nik, and I used to tease Vix about.
She’d always told us we were delusional, but we knew.
Just the way they look at each other makes you wanna scream, “Get a room”.
After we’ve grabbed our food and drink—a blueberry muffin and coffee for me—and claimed a couple of empty chairs, I dive into asking Vix the big question.
“So, how did the interview go?” I take a sip of my coffee and unwrap my muffin.
“I think it went well. I have enough experience to handle myself behind the bar. They tested me, and I passed with flying colors, of course. You should see this place, Myssa. It's insane and my dream bartending job. Definitely our type of place.” Her grin becomes weirdly sinister.
“What’s the name of it again?”
She takes a sip of her coffee before answering, “Frequency.”
“I like the name. Gonna have to check it out.” I pause, trying to remember when the last time I even went to a club was.
“It’s been so long since we hung at a club, ever since…” she trails off, watching me intently.
“Since Nik,” I finish with a soft smile.
“Yeah.” She sighs. “Look, Myssa, I’m sorry—”
“Stop. It’s good to talk about her and the good times we all had.” I shake my head and wipe a tear from my eye.
Vix clears her throat and takes another drink of her coffee, then looks at me as if she’s just remembered something.
“So, what happened at work today?” She takes a bite of her sandwich.
“I spaced out during a meeting, and Pete scolded me like a child. So, he took me into his office and told me—no, scratch that—forced me to take PTO for the next few weeks. He basically said it’s time for me to get my shit together, but in a calm Pete-type of way.
So, I’m now off for the foreseeable future for a long vacation. ” I shrug.
“Bout time,” she mutters.
“Hey.” I frown.
“Look, Myssa, I love you, but you’ve been on autopilot for the last few months. And let me guess, sleep is still an illusion and a nightmare?”
“Yeah,” I say, defeated.
Vix looks at me with concern. “When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?”
I pause, pretending to think it over.
“Six months ago?” I guess sheepishly.
“Myssa, this is going to be a good thing. You need the time off to rest and process. Losing Nik was hard, and you never gave yourself time to really grieve.”
“You sound like Pete. Are you two conspiring behind my back?” I narrow my eyes at her accusingly.
“Myssa, really?” She lifts a brow at me.
“I know.” I sigh in frustration but continue. “But seriously, what am I going to do, sit around and reflect? I’m not that person! I’m going to be crawling the walls after the first week. It’s why I don’t ever take a vacation.” I slump back in the chair.
Just as she’s about to counter, her phone rings. Her eyes widen when she sees who it is, and she smiles as she swipes to answer.
“Hello?” She stands up, holding her finger at me as if to say one minute, and goes somewhere quieter.
Sitting there contemplating how I’m going to keep myself busy for the next few weeks, my mind drifts yet again, and a memory of hazel eyes flashes before me.
That spark that hit me earlier sends a chill through my body, and goosebumps rise again, just thinking about the rest of him.
I wish I’d gotten his name, but honestly, what are the chances?
Dream men are meant to be just that—out of reach and intangible.
But I’d be lying if I said I won’t be thinking about him for the next few nights.
Vix comes back and looks at me, concerned. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah, why?” I adjust in my chair and try to force the thoughts of this man out—but who am I kidding.
Her brows furrow. “Because you’re all flushed.”
I smack my hands on my cheeks as if to confirm what she’s saying. Embarrassed, I decide to confess at least some of my thoughts.
“It’s nothing. There was just this guy I ran into in the elevator today. No big deal.” Deciding that’s all I want to share, I offer her a quick shrug and take a bite of my muffin.
She chuckles. “Um, clearly it’s something, since you’re sitting here looking like you just had a fever dream.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” I take a sip of my coffee, trying not to be obvious.
“Details…” she demands, hovering a moment longer before taking her seat.
I proceed to tell her what happened, and she looks at me, baffled.
My brows lift. “What?”
“I just find it funny. For as many years as you were Nik’s gopher for guys, you couldn’t muster up a conversation with a guy that you like.” She folds her arms and sits back in her chair.
As I ponder Vix’s words, my mind wonders.
“Noooo, you go talk to him for me. Pleeeease, Myssa? You’re so much better at it than me.” Nik pouts, sipping her margarita while eyeing a guy at the end of the bar.
Staring at her, I sigh, not amused.
“Fine, but you’re going to owe me for this one,” I say, motioning to the bartender for a refill.
Snapping out of the memory, I turn my attention back on Vix.
“Look, Vix, trust me when I say this guy wouldn’t give me a second glance. He was all swagger and sex—and then there’s me. That’d be like putting a Prada bag with a Target special.” I laugh.
“Whatever, girl. Hopefully, fate will do its duty and have you cross paths again. I wish you could see you through my eyes, Myssa, because I think you are beautiful.” She grins.
I’m not good with compliments, so now the conversation has turned into an uncomfortable silence for both of us.
“Was that a call about your interview?” I quickly change the subject.
“Oh. Yeah,” she says, nonchalantly taking another sip of coffee.
“And?” I prompt with eagerness.
“I got the job!” She squeals. She taps her feet on the floor in a mini dance of triumph. “I start tomorrow afternoon, just to learn the bar and meet the staff.” She sets down her coffee.
“Vix, that's awesome! Congrats.”
“Thanks.” She beams. “Though, you know that means now I have to go out and get new clothes.” She checks the time on her watch and abruptly stands up.
“You want company? I have nothing else to do.” I get up, and throw my muffin wrapper in the trash, still nursing my coffee.
“For sure. You can help me pick out new outfits for this gig. Maybe we can finally change your look up a bit and get some outfits for you. It’s been six months, and we need to get you back out there,” she tosses over her shoulder as she opens the door to let me out.
The thought of going back out after everything that’s happened forces me to realize what that means. Shivers of panic roll through me, along with the guilt of moving on. I swallow it down for now as I follow her out the door. “Ha! We shall see,” is all I can muster.