Lattes
POV: Sierra
“My fiancé wouldn’t mind…”
I push the latte to the other side of the counter. Lately, a customer named Jeremiah had been hitting on me for what seemed like nine years but what was really nine days. Whatever he called love, was really harassment.
I glance at the clock shaped like a kitten. Only two more minutes left until closing time. I've been working here since a few years ago as a side habit. When I'm not busy with my illustrating career, I come over to help out, but my manager, Mrs. Dalloway, asked me if I was free to pick up a shift, and I reluctantly agreed. I wasn’t doing anything, anyway.
“Please move out of the way,” I say. “I already told you, this is not a part of my job.”
“Well, it can be,” he says back. I ignore him and put on a smile for the next customer, who requests an iced coffee.
I check the time again. Around a minute left. I sigh quietly, then turn around and give the coffee to the customer.
Finally, the line of customers are done. I shoo Jeremiah out of the cafe and close the doors, then get a broom and sweep the place down.
I cut the lights, change the sign to CLOSED, and leave, closing the door behind me. The breeze of the wind kisses my hair, and leaves circle around my feet.
I decide to take the shortcut to my apartment. It goes through an alley and then a path leads you to the apartment entrance. I am always told to never go through the alley, but it’s chilly for the fall and I’m too exhausted to go the longer way.
The only person who tells me I can’t go there is my mom. But I don’t listen to her. Besides, nothing ever happens when I go there, anyway.
I’m halfway through the alley when I hear somebody crying. Like the person was begging, probably not drunk.
An exciting buzz courses through my veins. I’ve always loved a good jumpscare, and my stupidity urges me to go and see.
And I do.
There are three men. One of them is on his knees and looks awfully familiar. The other two are standing up.
“I swear I can fix it,” the man on his knees sobs. “Please—”
Jeremiah?
The one in a black coat lifts up a gun. Several seconds pass, and he pulls the trigger. I flinch from the sound, and my back hits the wall.
Jeremiah drops to the ground.
My entire body is weary and needs a rest, but instead of leaving, I look up. The man in the black coat tilts his head. Shit.
The streetlight flickers above him, looking about as tired as I am. But I can see broad shoulders, an aristocratic nose, swoopy brown hair, a still posture, that stupid black coat, and his eyes. They look perfectly calm, as if he’s casually deciding what to have for dinner.
His emerald green eyes latch onto mine, and I see the other man turning toward me. “What was that?”
Goddamn it!
I back away slowly, but my stupid shoe loudly scrapes the gravel. The second man walks in my direction, and I hear another gunshot.
I feel like screaming, but I don’t remember how.
The second man drops onto Jeremiah.
Finally, my stupidity drops the first sensible thing into my mind: run.
I turn and bolt. I don’t even know where I’m going, but it’s definitely not the way home. My heart is pounding against my chest, begging to be released. I don’t stop running until I hit the streetlight at the end of the block.
Risking everything, I turn around. Nobody’s there. Nobody’s chasing me. I pick up my phone to call the police, but I don’t know what I would say. I shoved it back into my pocket.
I saw pretty much nothing, but I feel like I saw everything.
A chill creeps up my spine. I really don’t feel very safe.
My phone pings, and I take it out of my pocket. It’s Spencer, my best friend, asking me to join her for a book signing. I text her back, saying not tonight, and find the path home.
I'm back at my apartment, and my phone buzzes for what must be the hundredth time. Incoming call from Spencie. I sigh, knowing I couldn't ignore it any longer, and pick up.
"Hey," Spencer says, cautious of herself. Her usual sharpness and snappiness has been put away. "Everything okay?"
"Yep," I lie, adding extra emphasis on the p. "Just...a long shift. Took the shortcut back, probably shouldn't have." I focus on my uniform, folded neatly on my desk. I'm wearing a long shirt and shorts, but I'm feeling like covering up more.
"You're not okay," Spencer says. "I can pretty much see it from the other end of the phone."
She's getting too good at reading not only my emotions, but my mind as well. "I'm fine, Spence, really. I'm just tired." All of a sudden, I hear the jingling of keys. "Where are you going?"
"I'm coming to see you," Spencer says. I can hear her open the door. "You can't hide anything from me, bitch. I'm coming over, and I will bore the shit out of you."
Spencer starts cackling, and I roll my eyes because I hate her, but a part of me is relieved. She always shows up.
Thirty minutes later, I hear a knock at the door. I open it to find Spencer in a black crew-neck cashmere sweater and sweatpants. Her hair is in a messy bun, and she's holding my favorite chocolates.
Without a word, Spencer proceeds to the small table, where she puts the chocolates down. "Spill it."
My tongue goes limp. I have no idea what to tell her that doesn't make her think she became friends with a lunatic seven years ago.
"I don't even know where to start," I begin.
"Whenever you're ready," she says calmly. She doesn't flinch.
I stare at the floor, my chest tightening. “It… it was like something out of a nightmare. There were men—two of them—and one of them…” My voice falters. “…he didn’t even flinch when he—”
Spencer takes my hand. “Breathe, Sierra. Start slow. Tell me what you can.”
I take a breath, trying to calm my thoughts. The alley, the gunshots, the way one of the men stood there… it all plays over and over in my mind. I shiver. “I was just walking home from the café. I took the shortcut through the alley… and I saw him… the man in the black coat. I don’t know who he is, but… he looked… calm. Like nothing could touch him.”
"Calm?" Spencer says, frowning. "In an alley with men randomly getting shot?"
I nod. "Yeah. And the other one...I don't think he's even alive anymore. I don't know, Spence, I just ran. I didn't know what else to do."
"Holy shit," she mutters. "Don't worry, you're okay now."
I force a nod, but that stupid adrenaline hasn't stopped running through my veins. My phone buzzes, breaking a short silence. It's a message from an unknown sender. Be careful tonight.
I glance out the window. Nobody's there; nothing has changed outside.
I swallow. "Spencer...I think they know I saw them. I have no idea who 'they' are but..." I lower my voice. "...I think somebody's watching me."
Spencer wraps her arm around me. "Whoever it is, we'll deal with it together. I'm not going anywhere tonight."
I rest my head on her lap, she puts her hand on my head, and we stay like that for a long time.
"You're never going to be alone," she says. "Not ever."
And just like that, a rush of relief floods me like a tidal wave. I'm not alone.
For now.
