Emma’s hand glided a towel around the steam nozzle, preparing for the newest round of drink orders. The morning was unproductive, an enormous waste of life, but as the rush of lunch increased, our feet began to ache. The line of patrons extended through the front door, everyone eager and desperate for Emma to cure their daily addiction to caffeine. I stepped away from the espresso machine, having handed Emma three cups for the latest order, when Elliott finally appeared.
“Worry not,” he announced, meandering through the crowd of people lining at my register, “I’m here to save the day.”
“Excellent,” I muttered sarcastically, allowing him to nudge my hip and push me out of the way. “I have to finish running purchase orders. Can you handle it up here without me?”
“Always.” Emma smiled from the espresso machine, her right hand pouring steaming froth into a mug. “Ell, you’re late.”
“I know, but wait until you hear why.” I escaped their banter, but not quickly enough. Emma placed two drinks on the counter, calling out their names, before grasping my left arm.
“He’s going to die when we tell him Julian Molloy was here this morning,” she purred, her cheeks blushing crimson, sickening me. I tried to smile, letting a fake laugh puff from my lips.
“What’s going on?” Elliott inquired, buzzing between us to reach for a latte mug. His blue eyes were expectant, waiting for one of us to divulge the secret.
“Nothing.” I brushed it off, hoping Emma would get the hint it wasn’t something to discuss. But why not? She didn’t know their cousin attacked me and the only reason I was semi-alive was thanks to Julian Molloy. Thanks. Sheesh, what-the-hell-ever.
“Well, then let me tell you just how beautiful Nicky and I looked this weekend.”
Emma’s eyes squeezed shut while she giggled, her tongue sticking out. “No. Thank you, but no.” Elliott cringed, shaking his head while a brilliant chuckle returned to his throat, invading our ears as a delightful distraction from the soundtrack of the coffee shop. My brows met instantly, the signs recognizable as my vision blurred.
Emma’s hand squeezed my wrist. “Another headache?”
I nodded, reluctantly pulling my hand from her grasp. “I just need a minute. I’m going to get some water and be right back.”
“No.” Elliott patted my shoulder. “You go take a break. We’ve got this.”
Migraines were a chronic, almost daily, symptom. I recognized immediately how my eyes blurred while listening to Elliott and Emma beneath the buzzing roar of our shop. If I was going to make it out of there alive, I needed some peace. Alive. Just keep my fingers crossed someone isn’t going to jump me, or kill me, or threaten me.
Shaking off the trepidation in my memory, I headed to the office and nestled into the rickety chair behind the desk, willing it all to end. That’d be okay, as long as I got the say.
I lifted my head from the desk, listening attentively to the voices coming from the front of the shop. Emma mumbled something, followed by Elliott’s coos. I reached for the tablet when his feet scraped along the floor with his approach. I want to slap that smile off his pretty face.
“We can discuss how you still hate me later, but might you explain why Mr. Fancy Pants is asking for a moment of your time?”
I spun around, staring at Elliott with confusion. “What are you talking about?” I placed the tablet on a shelf, along with bags of espresso and coffee beans.
“Julian Molloy is here to see you.”
“You can tell him I died.”
Elliott squeezed my shoulders. “What’s going on with you, Aid?”
I looked at Elliott, groaning with displeasure, and snapped. “What’s going on is that I spent Saturday night running from your crazy and unpredictable cousin who, by the way, tried to assault me.”
“Oh, Aid! Why didn’t you say anything?”
Emma poked around the corner, her cheeks blushing. “Can you come out here?”
“No.” I growled, returning my gaze to Elliott, who raised an eyebrow at me, demanding an explanation.
“What’s going on, Aid?” he probed, arms crossing tightly along his chest. “Is this about your dream? Honey, get in line.”
“I am never confiding in you, never again.”
“Aid,” Elliott groaned, grabbing my wrists. “You’re the billionth person to think he’s hot. Believe me. It’s normal. And besides, it’s been like…holy shit. When is the last time you got any?”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Don’t,” he whimpered pathetically. “Nicky would die without me. Nobody would do the wash, take care of the dog. Emma wouldn’t be able to run this place with me dead and you in jail.”
“It wouldn’t matter, would it? Considering we don’t really own this place anymore, right? Am I right, Elliott?”
Emma giggled from the doorway. “Okay. I seriously can’t handle it. Please. I beg one of you to come out here. Now.”
I grumbled while passing Elliott, praying my heart would merely stop and do me in while I walked out of the office.
“Mmm.” Elliott giggled. “Loverboy.” I couldn’t roll my eyes any harder as I tried to shake Elliott from my shadow.
Julian’s back was toward us, arms crossed against his chest while he sat at a small table by the window. Personally, I felt his presence alone would have been enough to vacate the entire building, but it appeared his groupies disagreed. Hordes of people surrounded Julian while he sipped from a mug of coffee.
“I’m not talking to him,” I mumbled to Elliott once I turned around. Elliott’s hand dropped to his hip, ready to insult me or remind me how ridiculous it was for me to not want Julian the way half of our shop currently did. I’m going to be sick.
“Why are you acting so weird? I’ll go talk to him. Jesus,” Elliott moaned, shoving my shoulder as he walked by me.
I reached for something, anything, to appear busy while Emma resumed taking orders and making coffee for customers not fainting from Julian’s presence. I stuffed my head into one of our massive cans of tea, inhaling the black warmth of an English Breakfast. Closing my eyes, I let the scent weave into my mind, calming the subdued pound within my brain. Crap. Why did I need to open my eyes? I made the mistake of glancing over the lip of the jar, catching the disturbing image of Elliott completely enthralled with Julian. Elliott was resting, too comfortably, against the edge of Julian’s table. His arms were waving animatedly, gesturing as if the words of his story weren’t enough to keep Julian entertained. I couldn’t pull my eyes from Julian. His body was relaxed as he skillfully laughed at the appropriate moments, his mouth widening with humor at whatever Elliott had said. He was a perfect actor. Meanwhile, nobody else knew that beneath his soft black sweater, a sparkling silver pistol was pressed between the waistband of his pants and the warm, bare skin of his back.
***
I made it my mission in life to avoid Julian, or any of the Molloys—which would be difficult, considering how close the coffee shop was to downtown and that family practically owned anything around or near Boston Common. Fortunately, I found success in the last week. Okay, lies. The only reason I avoided the Molloys was because migraines consumed my life over the last week and Elliott worked double because he loved me. I didn’t know what they wanted from us, but I needed to find the best way to ask Elliott what happened…and maybe why the hell those wasps were tailing me.
I stuffed the dangly keychain into my rear pocket, prepared to make the trek home and spend another evening in solitude, listening to my neighbors and zoning out in front of the television before a migraine interrupted. The snowplows couldn’t keep up with the latest accumulation, my feet barely able to trudge through depths along the sidewalks.
“Miss Leary!”
Closing my eyes, I fought to ignore the mouse calling out for me. My boots weren’t tall enough; their fur lining welcomed plenty of wet snow around my ankles, chilling me.
“Miss Leary!”
Can’t you see I’m ignoring you? Listen. Plows. Do you hear them? Me too. That’s why I can’t hear you. Oh, and I don’t want to die.
“Miss Leary.”
I had to finally acknowledge her, as bony fingers wrapped around my wrist. I glanced down, observing the leather pulled tightly over the hand that released its strength once she noticed my pause.
“I’m so sorry to catch you off guard like this.”
I followed the sleeve entirely woven from the fur of a bear or fox, maybe even a mink. Whatever it was, it was thick, posh, and reeked of affluence. Her lips were painted a dark crimson, a shade I wouldn’t ever try, considering I preferred not to look like a well-fed vampire.
As Maureen smiled, the red lips parted, pulling my attention to the soft porcelain skin of her face. Are these people real? Seriously. This must be a hologram.
“You startled me,” I lied, swallowing regret that I wasn’t able to walk ahead of her. Stupid snow catching me in this mess. I’m moving to California. It’s settled. Maureen held my wrist while her smile softened. Okay, lady, any day now.
“I went to your shop with my brother on Tuesday.” Maureen’s eyes flickered with amusement. “We were both disappointed you weren’t there. Mr. Daly said you were ill. I was just on my way there. I’m glad I caught you.”
What the hell did these snobs even want with me? Was this some twisted game?
“I just closed. What do you need?”
“Simply a business consultation.” Maureen smiled, her perfectly outlined pout mocking me while I stood in the falling snow, freezing my ass off, waiting for her to get to the point.
I glanced around her, watching the few slow pedestrians struggle to traverse the snow. Their faces were burrowed into lifted collars, all covered with soft flakes of white. My gaze returned to Maureen’s hand, which she must have forgotten was wrapped around my wrist, because upon our mutual glance, it dropped into the warm security of a fur-lined pocket.
“May we walk, dear?”
Dear? She looks close to my age and she’s calling me ‘dear’? Well, that’s fantastically demeaning. I worried letting her follow me home would give her too much access, but then I remembered her stalker brother practically knew how many deadbolts to pick on the door of my unit.
We were already walking in the direction of my apartment, her arm guiding me like the manipulative crutch that it was. Four more blocks. We walked in silence for the first half of the peculiar journey, my mind on overdrive while it plotted escape routes and Maureen smiled like the perfectly proper granddaughter of a politician.
“So…” I pulled my body from her side, pleasantly surprised when she didn’t flinch to maintain her proximity. “A business consultation? With coffee?”
“And baked goods.” She giggled, a surprisingly girly sound I didn’t expect to hear from those stained lips. “Our uncle is turning seventy. It’s a big deal. We wanted to throw a party, but he wouldn’t allow it, so we settled on a nice brunch at one of our residences.”
One of their residences? I suddenly craved the closet I called a home, from the mold along the bathtub caulking to the kitchen window that refused to close.
“And considering we’ve got a contract with you,” Maureen pressed, “I’d really love it if you could cater.”
“Sorry, Ms. Molloy. We don’t cater.”
“You must!” Her palm clutched my left elbow, drawing my eyes along the fur sleeve to where she held me. “I insist. It’s in the contract, after all.”
I closed my eyes, rolling them snugly within their aching sockets with anger toward Elliott. I hadn’t reviewed the contract; in fact, Elliott hadn’t even shown it to me. How could I be so stupid? I need to quit. I didn’t care about the money I invested with Elliott and Emma. I had to wipe my hands and move the hell forward. But first, I need to get away from Maureen. And maybe take a nap.
“Okay, well,” I thought out loud, “you can call the shop tomorrow. Emma’s opening, and she can fill out the order form for you. They’ll figure it all out.”
“I don’t think you quite understand.” Maureen released her hold on me. “I’d really value it if you could handle this business. I trust you more.”
“Um…”
She blushed; she was actually blushing. “I sense you have a different attitude than your friends. You don’t take no for an answer. You don’t cower. Do you?”
“I try not to.”
“Precisely. So, you’ll help me?”
No. “Fine.” I hate you, self. I know. I hate me too. “When is it?”
Maureen’s lips spread even wider, revealing more of her bright teeth. “Saturday morning. At ten.”
“Two days from now?”
“One of our drivers will collect you,” she pressed. “It won’t cost you a dime. Just be ready at, say, eight?”
Eight in the morning on a Saturday. With the entire Molloy family. And their guns. And teeth. Knowing that Elliott officially ended our independence by waving a white flag to those strangers, I reluctantly nodded while quietly brainstorming ideas for improving my resume on future job applications. Maureen leaned forward to kiss my cheek, surely leaving a deep red outline against my fair complexion.
“This is perfect,” she sang. I hoped that would be enough, even though she hadn’t yet given me her order, and that Maureen would let me continue walking to my apartment. She had other plans, naturally, and continued discussing her ideas for their uncle’s party. Maureen wanted two types of coffee, enough cinnamon rolls and scones to feed a small village, and everything needed to be the freshest it could be.
“He loves sweets.” She laughed. “So do my brothers.” Plural. Great. She could have multiple Julians roaming around Boston, waiting to pester girls like me. I wrote down what she wanted on my cell phone, making sure to include every detail so we wouldn’t disappoint.
“I’ve got it all. I’ll head in tomorrow night and make sure everything’s organized for Saturday,” I informed her, slowly stepping away as we approached my intersection. “Is there anything else?”
“Do you live alone, Miss Leary?” Maureen’s eyes scanned the buildings lining my intersection. I was surprised how far she walked in her heels. Somehow the snow gave way beneath her feet, protecting the piercing heels of her expensive stilettos. Wait. Alone?
“Y-yes.” I swallowed. “But the walls are so thin—everyone can hear everything in there.” There! Let that be a warning that you and your brother—brothers—can’t kill me.
She beamed, nodding at me before inching closer and pressing her lips to my cheek once more. It stung like venom, with an uncomfortable pulse beneath her skin.
“See you on Saturday.” Maureen nodded, blue eyes sparkling as they took on their own grin. I pretended to fumble with my keys, hoping to buy time so she would lose interest and walk away. She turned, waving at a black SUV to pull against the curb. A man, dressed in crisp black suit, climbed from the driver’s side and flew around the car to help her into the back. I tried to watch from my periphery, hoping nobody saw me take such an interest in her.