7. Chapter 7 #2
Luca raised a cigar in her direction.
Sarah went downstairs, stealing breaths whenever she had the chance.
At least in the back halls, where management dwelled, she didn’t have to listen to sensual music or smell the sex everyone but her was having that night.
Ms. Moreau would probably go home to an even more relaxing evening with her wife.
Ms. Blackbourne? She could have any woman she wanted.
Sarah preferred not to be around to watch her cheat on her wife again.
After speaking with the manager, Sarah accepted that she was no longer on the clock.
She texted her brother that she would be heading home in a few minutes.
First, she wanted to go to the bathroom – where she found a couple doing very non-platonic things on the damn sink – and get a drink.
A stiff one. The kind she couldn’t get at home because it was that strong.
She stood at the secondary bar in the main room.
The line here was shorter, and the bartender knew her well enough to know to leave out the lime.
All of the sweaty bodies around her, regardless of how drenched in expensive cologne and perfume they were, drove her to take off her jacket before downing her drink.
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
Sarah nearly choked on the last of the liquid shooting down her throat. She put her glass down in time to see Luca sidle up to the bar and lean both toned arms against it. Her chin was propped on her hand as she stared at Sarah.
“Ms. Blackbourne,” she calmly said. “Can I help you? Afraid I’m off the clock now, but if there’s something you really need…”
Luca accepted the glass sliding into her hand. “I need to know why you were crying.”
She couldn’t breathe, swallow, or think. “Excuse me? What a personal question.”
“Does your boss know you cry in the women’s restroom?”
“Ms. Blackbourne,” Sarah growled. “I would rather not.”
She sipped her drink, unlike Sarah, who had inhaled it. “Fine, then. Let’s talk about something else, Ms. Clayborn.”
“I’m afraid I must get going. I’m expected at home.”
“Oh? Husband?”
“No.”
“Boyfriend?”
She glared at her. “My brother.”
“I see.” Would her happy-go-lucky smile go away? “Not even a dance?”
Sarah said nothing as she backed away from the bar and took herself home.
Why did I have that drink? Why did I eat that pizza?
More importantly, why was she now drinking a latte?
Because PMS was a bitch and made her imbibe things that would make her PMS bloat five times worse.
The screwed-up thing was how much it felt like a self-inflicted punishment.
Like she deserved to no longer fit in her jeans because she dared to bleed every month.One thing her brother never had to deal with. Bastard.
Sarah didn’t often give herself this kind of breathing room on her weekends, but the apartment was too claustrophobic, and she had no desire to go out shopping or meet up with supposed friends.
Across the street from her apartment was a quaint, well-lit coffee shop that saw an equal number of friends and solo techies setting up their laptops to work.
Sarah belonged to neither group. She had brought her phone and a book to keep her occupied for a couple of hours.
The book wasn’t that great. The phone was full of dating apps she used purely for hooking up with whoever came through town. She hadn’t peeked at it in a while, since the kind of tourist she liked to screw wasn’t often found on there.
No, the kind of people she liked to screw came through the front door.
Since her eyes instantly settled on her by the far wall, Sarah had no choice but to assume the woman was stalking her. There was no other reason for Luca Blackbourne to walk into that café – alone.
Nor did she have any right to wear those tight jeans and that fitted black T-shirt that outlined her stomach and breasts like they were part of the most delectable buffet Sarah could ask to smash her face into.
Luca removed her sunglasses the moment Sarah saw her. That was not a smile she wore, but it also wasn’t shock.
Sarah flipped her book shut and grabbed her purse. Luca abandoned the line she signed herself up for and approached.
“So, this is what you look like in your civies?”
Don’t make eye contact. “Could say the same to you, Ms. Blackbourne.”
“Please. Lu. Only my mother and business associates call me Luca.”
I will not call her that. “Don’t bother sitting down,” she said as Luca pulled out the chair across from her. “I’m leaving.”
“Then you’ve saved this table for me. My thanks.” She watched Sarah put her book and phone away. “Have I done something to offend you, Ms. Clayborn?”
Would her boss get mad if she told Luca to fuck off?
“I am not offended. I really must be going. You’re welcome to use this table if you buy something, I’m sure.”
She glanced at her latte. “You haven’t even finished your drink.”
“Don’t have time.” She stood, purse in hand.
Luca picked up the mug by the handle. Those ferocious blue eyes never once abandoned her as she struggled to leave as quickly as possible. “Would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
She drank it. The freak drank the rest of Sarah’s latte.
“Do as you please, Ms. Blackbourne.”
“I often do, Angel.”