Chapter 4- Coffee Confessions
When I was sure Mom was still asleep, I slipped on my shoes. I grabbed my light purple jacket, and my small black purse. Going down the stairs was a hard task, because the stairs squeaked and moaned a lot. I figured if I went down fast enough, the sound would be drowned by the closing door.
I regretted that though, because when I stepped on the first step, it squeaked, and I could hear Mom mutter in her sleep. So me being my usual stupid self, I slid down the rail. And fell down on my elbow.
I rolled over, cursing to myself quietly. I went for the door, shutting it as quietly as I could.
And I just had to forget to lock the front door.
“Why don’t you like Blake though?” Susan asked me as we sat down at our booth, setting down our cappuccinos.
I sighed, taking a long drink from my creamy cappuccino before answering her.
“It’s not like my whole world revolves around him.” I said
She sighed, pushing her blonde hair back. She glanced at a booth with college boys, and threw one of them a dazzling wink.
I rolled my eyes. "See, it's always boys with you!"
Susan's gaze trained back to me, frowning.
"I don’t worship him either.“ She said coldly.
I shrugged. That statement wasn’t exactly true.
“It’s just that, he’s handsome and all, but he’s not going to get me anywhere.” I told her.
Susan looked confused, and I shook my head.
"He’s going to end up unemployed, I know it. I prefer the track runners, they run into their future...” I said trailing off when I noticed Susan staring at me.
“Flo, were living it now. Why are you thinking of the future?” She questioned me.
I shrugged, evidently not as nonplussed as she was. I felt a bit uncomfortable of Susan asking me those questions.
Susan stirred her coffee super slow, and smiled seductively at the neighboring booth. I struggled not to barf into my coffee. What was wrong with her?
"So, how’s everything going with the reporters?” I asked her hesitantly, trying to change the topic.
Susan’s face suddenly looked downcast, and she sighed, her nails drumming the counter top.
“Not well... actually worse. Mom want’s me to leave right after she’s done with her new clothing design.” She said.
I saw a tear slip from her eye, and she tried to wipe it away quickly. I held on to her hand, and gave her a sad smile.
"We can do something special before you go.” I told her.
She nodded, sniffing.
“We can’t do anything that has to do with my parent’s money though.” She said firmly.
There was a glint in her eyes. I didn’t ask why, for her parents had hundreds of thousands- maybe even millions, of dollars stored away. What they did with their money, neither Susan or I knew.
“We can always apply for jobs, I know this pizza place that pas eight dollars an hour!” I told Susan excitedly.
Susan shook her head, looking for once, serious.
“We need a job that gives us serious cash.” She said.
She explained that we needed to get around a thousand bucks, with an emergency three hundred bucks. I shook my head.
" That’s way too much. Why don’t we use your allowance?” I suggested.
She looked like she was chewing back words, hesitating to choose what rolled off her tongue.
“Because, that’s saved for when I fail- when I fall down and no boys can lift me back up.” She whispered to me, tears clouding her eyes.
Then she got up. Her arm accidentally knocked down her frothy cappuccino over the once clean counter top.
I didn’t run out after her when she stormed out the little coffee shop. I just watched as her silhouette get smaller and smaller, until I saw nothing of her.
She only depends on boys.
That, I realized, was her weak spot. Boys. It was all she cared about, as if she didn't have her own life to live. I stirred my cappuccino shaking my head.
Suddenly, boys from the neighboring booths came over.
“What ya do to make blondie cry?” The tallest of the boys said.
I got up, and gabbed my purse and left through the door. The boys followed me. I picked up my pace a little, breathing in and out. The boys were a few feet from me. I broke out in a sprint.
Great, I have boys following me.
I sharply turned in an alley: it was a dead end, graffiti all over the walls. I tried to turn back around, but the boys were already closing in on me.
“What did you do to blondie?” The tall guy said.
I didn’t answer. He punched me on my nose. Blood trickled down.
“I said, what did you do to blondie?” He said through gritted teeth.
“Why does it matter to you?” I yelled at him.
“Why does it matter to me?” He yelled back.
He threw his head back, giving a bitter laugh.
“Because, you little bitch, she’s my girlfriend.” He said.
My mouth fell open.
"Incredible how she's your girlfriend, yet you're unable to tell me what her name is." I retorted in disgust.
I attempted to walk away from the alley, but the tall guy pulled me back by the collar of my shirt.
“You better stay away from her, or I’ll beat the shit out of you. Got it?” He asked yelling.
I quickly nodded. The boys left quickly, hoping not to be caught.
I took out my phone, and turned it on. There was around twenty missed calls from Mom.