Chapter Three
Sunday
Sunday brunch was always hell. I couldn’t yell louder than the crowd.
“Iced oat milk latte, two pumps of caramel, two pumps of French vanilla, with light ice for Morgo! Is there a Morgo here?”
There was nothing quite so troublesome as a complicated order during a rush, but the woman who picked it up was gorgeous enough for me to not actually be bothered.
“Here you are,” I said, but my barista wink was wasted in such a large crowd.
Morgo smiled as she hurried off—as was polite, technically, but I would’ve liked to see her smile a little longer.
The line of empty cups marked with orders seemed endless.
I glanced at Liam, who was working his ass off to fulfill them, then at Barbs, who assisted.
A childish scream cut through the chaos of the long line as a kid in the corner threw his mom’s drink to the ground.
I sighed and turned to Barbs. “Can you take over the register, Barbara? We have a spill.”
Barbs had the gumption to assist with emergencies, but she also had a bad back and worse knees—the perils of aging—so it was best to volunteer before she could and save her from her own ego. A sore Barbs was a grumpy Barbs, and nobody wanted that.
I grabbed a few clean-enough rags and wove through the crowd.
Sundays attracted an older crowd, mostly Boomers coming in for weekend brunch, which meant endless lines of cappuccinos and explaining what a frappe was and why it contained virtually no caffeine.
The tinkling of the front bell chimed in the background, but I was already on my knees under the table.
Iced latte covered the floor, and the mom and child had left instead of having the courtesy of even pretending to clean up after themselves, so it was up to me to prevent a slipping hazard.
I’d need more towels. I created a blockade instead, at least preventing the drink from seeping where some old man’s cane could slip in it.
“Nice to see a woman working on her knees.”
As preferable as it would’ve been to pretend I hadn’t heard, the voice pinged as familiar. I looked up and saw a man with linebacker shoulders and piggy eyes.
Unfortunately, I’d seen a lot more of him last night. “Cliff? What are you doing here?”
In general, when I met someone at a party, I kept my real life private, especially my place of work. His shit-eating grin suggested this was far from accidental. “I just wanted to know where you spent your time. On your knees, looks like.”
Oh, he thought he was hilarious. Still, the oppressive urge to sink into the grout and disappear gripped my chest. People were looking, listening; I felt it like static. I rose, grabbing the cup and lid, mostly empty. “It’s just busy right now. Not a good time.”
I stepped back; he came forward. “What, you’ll let me fuck you, but I can’t visit you at work?”
God, what if Barbs heard? “Look, my manager is really strict.”
“So what? Take five. We can chat outside.”
“That’s really not possible right now.”
His nasty grin faded, replaced with a rage that left me cold. “What’s the endgame, Terra? Do you like messing with my head?”
My breath was short, the world numbing to a buzz as I struggled to reply. “That’s not what this is. We can talk on my break, but you have to wait—”
I turned around—and barreled right into Alex.
She grabbed my arm. Heat flooded my face, quickly replaced with horror as the remains of the spilled drink splattered against us both, spoiling her fancy tank top and jeans. “Shit, Alex, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
I dropped everything and dragged Alex through the spectators, desperate to flee. I could barely hear anything beneath my own pulse in my ears, but I was cold, so goddamn cold.
I pulled her to the counter with napkins and straws, trembling as I blotted the liquid from her arm.
But I immediately recoiled, remembering the scar. Instead, I grabbed a huge stack of napkins and pressed them against it, unwilling to risk noticing again.
“It’s okay, I promise,” came Alex’s smooth voice. It cut through even the chaos of the morning rush and my own racing pulse. “Was that guy bothering you?”
I tried to say no, tried to summon the lie, but I gasped when Alex’s hand suddenly covered mine to take the napkins away. Against her calluses, there was comfort, but surely Cliff was watching, everyone was watching, Alex was here, but I couldn’t give in to the unexpected safety in her presence.
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. He’s just someone I know.”
“If you’re sure,” Alex said. She knew I was full of shit, given she glared at him across the room. “I’ll be around.”
“I’m so sorry. I-I’ll pay for anything that’s ruined.”
Alex didn’t even do her fuckboy grin. She spoke so sweetly. “I promise it’s okay.”
She turned to leave, but I wanted her to stay. I wanted…something.
Dammit.
I threw out the coffee-soaked rags, opting for paper towels instead. Cliff’s location wasn’t immediately apparent—hopefully the creep had left—so I returned to the spill, kneeling down and pretending the nice Boomer patrons weren’t watching me, judging me, thinking I was a whore—
“So when are you off?”
There he was.
I bit my tongue and kept my gaze to the floor. My words trembled from adrenaline. “I’ll be here until they tell me to leave.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. When’s your lunch break? We could spend it in my car.”
If I cried, it was over. If Barbs overheard, it was even more over. “I-I’m really not comfortable talking about this here.”
“Then tell me when you get off. I’ll even put money in your tip jar when we’re done—”
Alex shoved him away, placing herself between us. “You should leave,” she said.
I gasped, frozen solid as Cliff turned red in the face. “What are you? Her dyke bodyguard?”
I scrambled to my feet, even as Alex chuckled. This was getting out of hand—dammit all, he was so much bigger than her! “Cliff, please don’t—”
“I’m the dyke who will ruin your damn life if you don’t get the hell out,” Alex replied. “Cliff Benson? You’re on a football scholarship, right? It’d be a shame if Coach Grayson caught wind of how you treat baristas. It’d be worse if he got a bribe.”
“How the fuck did you know—”
“WHAT IS GOING ON?”
Shit. Barbs.
My manager cut through the chaos with the ease of a storm through the tropics, epitomizing the phrase ‘small but mighty.’ Her glare fell upon Alex. “You again—”
“No!” I yelled, courage coming from somewhere deep inside. I stepped between Barbs and Alex. “She was trying to help.”
Barbs’ eyes narrowed, which was a rather frightening sight given the magnification of her glasses. “What is happening?”
“This man was harassing your employee,” Alex said, and only then did I notice the comical drips of coffee remaining on her otherwise pristine shirt and slacks.
“I know her!” Cliff replied, clearly indignant. “We’re practically dating! But this bitch came out of nowhere and threatened me.”
Idly, Alex began removing her watch, flexing her fingers all the while. “Oh, I could do worse.”
“Stop it!” Barbs came between Alex and Cliff, fully prepared to throw herself into the fray, it seemed. “Terra, what happened?”
We’d drawn quite the crowd, surrounded by uncomfortable patrons acting like they weren’t listening with gusto. But they were. It sucked the air out of the room.
“Terra!”
My eyes locked onto Barbs. “I do know him.”
“And was he harassing you?”
My voice was barely a squeak, a mouse cornered by lions. “Yes.”
“Get out,” Barbs snapped, and Cliff had the temerity to look appalled.
“I paid for a drink!”
“Then wait outside. That’s where the dogs wait.”
He looked at me with predatory eyes. “Come on, Terra.”
“GET OUT!”
As Barbs made a fuss about calling the cops, a gentle hand on my arm pulled me away. People watched, but Alex paid them no mind, shoving through the crowd and escorting me to the back hallway, near the bathrooms.
Her gaze was unbearably soft. “You’re shaking.”
Was I? I tried to stiffen, hating the stinging in my eyes. If I cried, I wouldn’t stop.
“It’s probably for the best that I didn’t deck him,” Alex said, her nonchalance enough to pull a smile to my lips. “He’d sue, I’d pay him off, and he’d have a broken nose but enough cash to pay that scholarship back.”
The audacity of it broke the spell. I chuckled, though a few tears tried to escape along with it. I grabbed a napkin from my pocket, lest I smear my finally not-crusty mascara and show the world my hurt. “How did you know all those things about him?”
“You would be horrified by what Google can tell you in about four seconds.” Alex held up her phone, and there was the top headline: Perry High graduate, Cliff Benson, wins coveted football scholarship to Arizona State University.
“You said his name, and the ASU keychain gave away the rest. I’ll be making some calls once I get my abomination drink.
If he tries to contact you, ignore it and let me know. ”
My thoughts raced miles per second, bombarded with old images of my own bloodied hands. “I-I don’t know if this is worth ruining his life over. He could retaliate. If he could find my work, he could find you. He could hurt you—”
“Hey.”
Suddenly, her hand was on my chin, forcing our eyes to meet. I tried to breathe but could only gasp, so dark her expression was. “Let me take care of you,” she whispered.
All the world quieted. My mind ceased spinning, lost instead in the void of her gaze. Breathless, I managed one word: “Okay.”
Alex’s smile returned as she released me, leaving me swaying. She glanced back at the commotion. When I followed her gaze, Cliff was gone, and Barbs had grabbed a mop.
“What time do you get off?” Alex asked.
“Two.”
She stared into my eyes once again, leaving us shrouded in our own little world. She felt like an umbrella in a storm, and surely it was hardly seconds, but my stomach unclenched, the shackles of panic falling away. “Do you drive?” Alex asked.
“I have my bike.”
“I’ll arrange for a ride.”