3. Mel
Iwoke up rough despite the relaxing bath I’d taken before bed, the alarm yanking me out of an ill-formed dream that was somehow set in both my childhood bedroom and a shopping mall I’d been to exactly once, seven years ago. I grumbled irritably and tossed off the tangled blankets, rubbing my eyes with a yawn and getting adjusted to the late afternoon sun through the windows. What was intended to be a deep, cleansing breath ended with a cough as I realized I was really overdue on laundry, specifically my bedsheets. Oh well, no harm, no foul there. I hadn’t had an “overnight guest” for more than a year: the parade of obnoxious, handsy men at work had somewhat soured the concept.
I’d forgotten to reset my alarm last night, the current hour not taking into account my unexpected double shift and the need for sleep it demanded. Another yawn snuck out before I begrudgingly accepted that today might be a day for two lattes. Granted, my bank account wasn’t exactly hefty until I got the week’s pay from Vic tonight, but coffee was basically a medical expense at this point, and a tired dancer never made good tips.
After pulling on some jeans and a shirt that just barely passed the sniff test—I really needed to do laundry—I grabbed my outfit pieces for the night’s hopefully single shift and shoved them in a duffle, along with the lowest heels I could find in my messy hellhole of a closet. If I didn’t give my back a break it was going to take one for me; Rissa’s suggestion about a barefoot set was honestly starting to sound appealing, if kinda sticky.
Blegh, on second thought, maybe not.
After I’d gotten to my car and tossed my duffel in the backseat, I was promptly treated to an oh shit moment as my engine fought me on turning over. I groaned and rested my head on the steering wheel while I took a few deep breaths, the mounting bills continually listing themselves like an info board at the airport. My rent was a week late, I needed to get to the doctor for a checkup, and even though I’d dumped a ton of money into keeping my car running, it was very overdue for a replacement. I eventually coaxed my little shitkicker of a vehicle into starting with a sigh of relief, but stress kept my shoulders tight all the way to Second Steep, the closest coffee place to work.
When I walked in, I was all ready to flirt with Mat, the store’s stoic wall of a barista that I liked to tease. I probably annoyed him a little, but he never protested or asked me to stop, even when I’d checked in with him before about it. I was kind of forward as a general rule, but it came with the job, and I think Mat knew as well as I did that I was never serious. I’d come to think of him as a sort of parasocial friend, if only because I saw him nearly every day as I grabbed my coffee.
My double-entendre died on my tongue as I saw the state of the shop. It was something a random customer might overlook, but I came here nearly every day, and the absence of tea tins and boxes and some damaged decor told the story as the door’s bell chimed in my wake. “Jesus, Mat! What the hell happened here, honey?”
A woman I’d dubbed laptop girl on my previous visits suddenly appeared from behind the counter, holding a box of coffee filters and giving me the look. I knew it well, having had more than a few angry wives and girlfriends tracking down credit card charges to the front door of the Scarlet Pole. Why Mat, you sly dog. You tagged laptop girl?
“Here, I got that, Bailey.” Mat wandered in from the back, taking the box of filters from her and bending down to kiss her with a smile. Smart man. I could practically feel the other woman’s claws sliding back in from the other side of the counter as Mat reinforced his apparent loyalties. That said, I thought Mat was a great guy and I had no interest in giving him unwarranted headaches by giving Bailey the wrong idea, so now it was my turn.
“Bailey, is it? I’m so happy to see Mat’s got great taste! I’m sorry we haven’t met properly before now, I noticed you the last few times I came in and wanted to say hi but I’m perpetually late for things and always rushing around.”
To her credit, she only hesitated a moment before offering her hand across the counter, which I shook with a reassuring grin. “Bailey Brown. Second Steep is my parent’s…and Mat’s, of course.” The shy smile she offered my normally buttoned-up barista was immediately returned, and my god, was Mat actually blushing? This was too damn cute.
“Melisandre, but everyone calls me Mel. I just popped in for a quick latte on my way to work, but are you guys okay? Looks like the place got ransacked.” I frowned sympathetically at an overturned chair in the corner.
Bailey nodded, her expression oddly evasive. “Yeah, some uh…hooligans. You know. Just kids messing around I think. I think we got it handled, but I appreciate you asking. A latte, you said?”
I nodded, and as she turned to make it, gave a soft curse at an empty sugar container tilted out at the edge of the counter before poking her head in the back to ask Mat if there was any left. When he answered in the negative, I interrupted her to say that honey was fine—it wasn’t how I normally took my latte, but it’d be a nice treat for the day, something a little different. With another soft sigh at the empty coffee pot, she craned her neck to look for Mat, shrugged when he didn’t appear, and grabbed an unfamiliar canister of grounds to brew a fresh batch.
Shortly after, she handed my latte over with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I usually stick to doing the books. I’m not really good at this part of things. Let me know if it tastes okay?”
I took a sip and a lash of cinnamon fire popped on my tongue in the middle of the creaminess, the taste immediately fading to a slightly-too-sweet version of my favorite drink. It was very good, but I felt like I’d gotten static-shocked for some reason, and I had to physically shake my head to chase off a light daze.
“Perfect!” I assured her, figuring Bailey could use a win after having her shop burglarized, or at least vandalized. The worried lines at her forehead smoothed out immediately, and I knew the little white lie was worth it. Mat appeared out of the back room with a wide-eyed look, the door smacking on the wall and making both Bailey and I jump as he stared at me.
“Bailey, did you—uh—did you make Mel’s drink for her?” His eyes darted to the canister on the counter and back to the drink in my hand, an almost manic and completely uncharacteristic smile plastered to his face.
Honestly, it was freaking me out a little. I’d been coming here for more than a year now and I’m not sure I’d ever seen Mat smile, let alone like this. Who knows, maybe they wanted to get back to banging and I’d interrupted them. Well, far be it for me to stand in the way of rough, dirty workplace sex, right?
I lifted the cup in a salute as I turned and headed out, calling back over my shoulder. “She did, it’s delicious! Gotta run, thanks Bailey!”
Mat looked like he wanted to say something else, but just lifted his hand in an awkward wave before leaning in to Bailey and whispering something. I hurried out the door, taking another sip. There it was again, that strange snap of warmth in the flavor.
I kind of liked it, I decided, and my former tiredness seemed to ebb away as I nursed at my milky-honey confection of a coffee drink, sliding back into my car.
Okay, no, I really liked it. Bailey could make my drinks from now on and I’d flirt with her. Sorry-not-sorry, Mat.
I giggled at the thought and cranked the radio, heading into work with a spring in my proverbial step that lasted until I pulled into the lot. A few of the day shift girls were clustered around the back door talking to a cop, gesturing out towards the street. In the center of the knot of people, Vic looked absolutely stricken, nodding at something the cop was writing down. What the hell had swept the city last night?
“Vic? What’s going on?” I called out as I climbed out of my car and reached into the back seat for my bag. I was glad I hadn’t changed into my heels yet, I made it across the parking lot in record time, stress-clutching my cup so tightly I worried I’d crush it. A thousand possibilities tumbled through my head: a bouncer had gotten physical, someone had brought in drugs, or maybe one of the girls offered something “off menu” to an undercover. As far as I was concerned, that last one was a matter between two consenting adults, but the state didn’t tend to agree and the Pole would take the heat for that.
“We got hit, Mel. Some goddamn punk with a gun, and he knew where the safe was, somehow.” Voice hoarse, he shoved a hand into his hair, looking halfway to tears as he stared sightlessly at the back steps. As I approached, the officer quietly explained that he was finished questioning Vic for now, and that I might want to take him inside to sit down. I set my cup on the edge of the steps to take Vic’s arm, nodding to the cop gratefully as I steered my shell-shocked manager through the small crowd, up the stairs, and into the office.
He babbled as I led him to the creaky green leather chair that held court in his tiny office. “I should have- I don’t know. I should have done something, Mel. God, I’m so sorry. You girls deserve better than this.”
“What are you talking about? You do plenty for us, Vic. I’ll smack anyone that says otherwise. Besides, I didn’t see any of the girls out there hurt, so I think you did just fine.” I rubbed a gentle circle between his hunched shoulders, hoping Mary had been called and was on the way. Vic needed more support right now than just an empathetic coworker.
“Mel, he got the money. The receipts. I can’t pay you girls until we make it back, and it’s going to take a few nights, at least. You all have bills, I know you do, and so do I. This is just a huge shitshow.” He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “All this because Rog was late to his door shift. Fucking traffic.”
Rog definitely would have slowed the asshole down, if not taken him out entirely. Our regular bouncer didn’t believe in guns, but he damn sure believed in knives and knowing where to stick them. Though jovial and kind by nature, it instantly evaporated the second a patron so much as breathed wrong around any of the girls. He’d be as devastated as Vic that this happened.
The reality of what Vic said sunk in slowly, but the list of bills in my head resurfaced with a vengeance and my stomach flipped. Rent. I couldn’t be evicted right away, right? They had to take payments if I offered to work with them, right? Swallowing thickly, I kept my anxiety to myself for Vic’s sake, sinking into the chair across the desk to wait for Mary to arrive.