Chapter3
Aliya was busy humming to herself as she mopped the floors. It was nearly nine in the evening, and Sunshine State Café was closing. There were three others with her, all doing their chores prior to clocking out.
She started to dance with the mop, much to the laughter of her coworkers.
“God, you should really join a dancing contest or something,” Robert, one of the baristas, told her.
“I don’t dance professionally,” Aliya protested. She noticed their supervisor looking serious, and she stopped fooling around. “Something wrong, Sandra?”
Sandra took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “The café might close soon.”
“What?” the crew gasped in unison.
“How can that be?” Robert asked.
“Aren’t we making enough sales?” another asked. “I can’t lose a job now, not when I’ve only been working for six months…”
Aliya nodded. She couldn’t afford to lose a job either. Rent was nearly due, as were a host of other bills—along with groceries and miscellaneous school fees her scholarship didn’t cover… “What happened, Sandra?” she found herself asking.
“Well, long story short, the tenants refused to extend the contract. Someone’s bought the whole building. We have around two months to pack up and transfer, if we find a place, or pack up completely…”
“But we can’t close…” Robert said. “I need this job.”
Don’t we all, Aliya thought grimly. “We still have time,” she told them. “We can look for a place—”
“The rent here is the cheapest for the next six blocks, for the next 5-mile radius.”
Aliya knew the story. The building owner took kindly to their boss, who had been his father’s goddaughter, but money was money, and the sixty-year-old building had been the subject of intense offers for many years now, with the owner refusing—until the right price came.
“5 miles isn’t so bad…” Robert sighed. “We better get a move on this, Sandra. We’ll do our best.”
Sandra nodded, looking at half of her crew. She hadn’t told the opening team about the impending closure. Sunshine State Café had been in operation for over thirty years. It was part of the neighborhood, a homegrown brand stacking well against its commercialized competitors.
Aliya saw the worry in everyone’s eyes. It had been a shock, and she had gotten over the news quickly. She didn’t want to abandon Sunshine State; it had been her source of part-time work, and income on a scholarship was crucial to survive. She couldn’t imagine asking her father for some of his retirement money just to push through with the school year. She knew her eldest brother, Julius, was saving for his wedding, and her second brother, Anthony, was still paying off his student loan.
She could get a job somewhere else, but her character didn’t suit it. This was her adoptive family of sorts. She was loved here and respected. Walking home (her apartment was a good twenty-minute walk away), she thought about the $1000 that James Douglas had offered her. That money sounded good right about now. At least that would pay for rent and other utilities next month. I could move into a dorm, she thought, knowing she could save a few hundred dollars by bunking in with someone within the school property…
The air was crisp that night, and she hugged herself, tightening her cardigan around her. Somewhere, a car’s audio system blasted rap music, and she could hear a cat meowing loudly. It was past eleven in the evening, but the stretch of road was full of life. It was a Saturday, after all. She barely went out to clubs or pubs, for that matter. It was a waste of money. Kimmy didn’t have that problem, as she thoroughly enjoyed her freebies during her numerous dates.
Her closest friend in college had quite a few affairs, and she took advantage of her perks as either mistress or current girlfriend. Every once in a while, she’d come running to Aliya for comfort, bawling about how men were such jerks, and how she was better off without them. Aliya always gave it at least two weeks before Kimmy pulled herself together, ready to meet new guys once more.
She wasn’t like that, she knew, and she didn’t even have to try. It was Kimmy’s personality, and she respected Kimmy. Kimmy didn’t force her to go out, but they were still good friends. It was actually possible to be a partial nerd and still be friends with a popular college gal.
She saw the long line across the street for one of Malibu’s hottest nightclubs, and she wondered how long she would have to wait just to get in and how skimpy her outfits had to be just so she could get free drinks. Apparently, underwear skimpy was quite enough, she remarked, as she saw a scantily clad woman braving the night chill. She saw an expensive car pull up; she didn’t know what brand it was, but the way the engine sounded—it sounded expensive. Then, she saw him. Him. James Douglas. Her heart stopped monetarily. It had only been a day since she had met him.
People ogled at him, and she heard a few girls cry out his name. Was he some sort of celebrity she didn’t know about? What rock was she living under? She saw him wearing a sleek suit, all in black. It seemed to be a staple of his. His collar was loose, giving him that devil-may-care look under the neon lights. His hair was tousled this time, as if he had just woken up and decided to grace the commoners with his presence. Even from across the street, his presence was magnetic.
“Now that is a car,” a guy murmured to his companion as they passed by her. “Damn, what does it take to get a Bugatti like that?”
“Around $2 million, dude.”
She had stopped completely, just looking at him and hearing what those strangers were talking about—she was starting to get convinced that he probably did something illegal for a living or he was a legit businessman with lucrative income… or worse, he was some trust-fund baby. With his manicured fingernails and penchant for expensive suits, he was highly likely to be living off of daddy’s hard-earned money.
James looked across the street and saw someone familiar. Ah, yes, Aliya Jones, his random lunch date. What were the odds that he was seeing her again tonight? He gave a smile that sent her stomach fluttering.
Why was her stomach fluttering? she wondered. He wasn’t smiling at anyone else but her. At least that was what she liked to believe. He raised a hand to acknowledge her presence. And without another thought, he crossed the street carelessly.
“You don’t look sideways,” she said as soon as he arrived in front of her. She felt like an idiot somehow. She cared, and she disliked the feeling already.
“So, you’re after my welfare?” He gave a smirk. “Where are you off to? Is this your work uniform?”
“Uh, yeah,” she replied, uncomfortable that he was eyeing her from head to foot. She realized she didn’t smell too fresh; maybe she smelled like stale pastries and coffee. And her face, god, her face. The oil build-up, the hair in a crappy ponytail…
“It suits you.”
“Being a barista is my one true calling,” she said wryly, then she realized her sarcasm. It didn’t make for a good second impression.
He laughed. The whole ripped jeans and white button-down shirt still suited her, even if he disliked the ripped jeans. That was some fashion he couldn’t fathom. Who paid for ripped pants? Unless they ripped through time, then that was fine. His dates bought these outrageously priced ripped jeans he couldn’t stomach.
“Would you care to join me?” he asked her. “I got a booth, not sure which gold diggers and users are going.”
“I don’t want to be one of those people you label.”
“Ah, but you see, I’d like to get to know you better,” he told her.
“Are you kiddin’ me?” she almost snorted. “Have you seen how I look? I’d look like any other bartender slash barista inside.”
“You won’t, not when you’re with me,” he said confidently. “And I’m glad to know you’re considering it, despite your wardrobe concerns.”
“I have to study,” she said. “My shift starts at 2 PM tomorrow; I don’t have the time.”
“Everyone has time; it just depends on how you handle the time given to you.”
“I’m handling it responsibly.”
“I’m offering you some time to unwind,” he said.
Like how he offered a thousand dollars just for her to keep him company during lunch? His magnetism was undeniable though, and she could feel the tugs getting stronger. She found herself shaking her head.
“I can’t.”
“We’ll make it an early night.”
“It’s almost twelve,” she told him.
“Well, we’ll make it an early morning. 2 AM for starters? I won’t force you to drink, and if you feel uncomfortable inside, just tell me and we’ll leave. I’ll drop you off at your place before I head home.”
The offer sounded nice, but still, she shook her head. “Studies first.”
“You’re a smart girl. You don’t need to reread every page.”
“It’s how I learn. I need to read.”
“And you need to relax once in a while. Will you do this for me?” he asked her. “You didn’t accept the envelope I gave you yesterday. This should make up for it.”
She began to protest, but he held her hand, and then he led her across the street.
“Mr. Douglas,” a bouncer greeted him, “ma’am.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw women’s jealous looks and people who grumbled that they had lined up for an hour, only for a completely underdressed stranger to get in with a VIP. She heard a bouncer say that Mr. Douglas had plopped a few thousand dollars for a seven-seater table. What? Her wages for two months were equivalent to one table? Her feet turned cold, and as soon as she entered the bar, a blast of music rushed through her. It was a full house, and she saw women walk past her, dressed in their finest clubbing outfits. She had only been inside bars like this a few times in her collegiate life, and while she enjoyed it, she didn’t want to stay inside it for too long.
Why was she here again? She was dragged into this, she told herself—well, she allowed herself to be dragged into it. He had let go of her hand the moment they got in, and he walked ahead, signaling for her to follow him.
The table he picked was spacious, with a view of the dance floor, a good distance away from the blare of the speakers. There were three other people inside the booth, all male.
“Who is this?” a guy asked James amidst the din.
“A friend,” James said.
“Looks like she came from work,” the same guy commented.
“I thought she needed a break,” James said simply.
It made Aliya feel unwelcome, and somehow, James was being casual about everything. She took a seat, careful to be a few inches away from him, as his ‘friends’ began to pour drinks from a bottle. James offered her one, but she declined, using both hands as signals.
He shrugged and took a gulp of his whisky, looking at the crowd, as if sizing up each and every one in it. His companions stood up, their attention shifting to a group of females standing by the bar. They walked past her without so much as a glance. What was she doing here? She was doing nothing productive. People watching was a pastime she didn’t want to do.
“You okay?” he asked her after a few moments.
She nodded. She wasn’t, but she had to play nice. Whatever his reasons were to invite her in, he still considered her, even when she was across the street. He could have ignored her; he could have pretended he didn’t know her at all, but he did the exact opposite. Here she was, with barely any makeup, hair unkempt, outfit way off—and yet, he asked how she was.
“Don’t you want to go out there?” she asked him, leaning closer to his ear.
He shook his head. “Not yet. I enjoy looking at people making a fool out of themselves.”
Yup, he was observant alright, she thought. Who are you, really? “Because everyone’s drunk?”
“People go into bars to let themselves loose,” he told her. “We’re here because it so happens my college friends want to enjoy their bachelorhood.”
“And you?”
“I’m here because… I have nothing better to do. Besides, I think I was pretty lucky to see you tonight. Who would’ve thought,” he said in a voice louder than usual.
A bar was a bad place to hold a conversation, and she was glad he wasn’t paying her for it.
“Are you sure you don’t want to drink?”
She hesitated, but then took the glass from his hand, taking small sips. She disliked the taste of liquor in general, and could only tolerate a glass or two.
He smiled at her. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it’ll help me relax.” Then, she nodded to the right. “Your friends are enjoying the night. Shouldn’t you?”
“I’m enjoying,” he said. “I have you for company.”
“Don’t make it seem so sad,” she said, her voice raised a notch this time. “I’m not very good company.”
“You don’t have to be the life of the party to be good company,” he said. The music had switched to a milder one, a change of sets for DJs, most likely. He saw his college friends engage in a more intimate conversation with a few of the ladies they had met. “I’m not the life of the party.”
Yeah, but you’re living the life, she thought. “You’re talkative.”
“I have to be,” he said. “Would you like another drink?” he asked her, seeing her glass was now empty.
She nodded, staring at his mouth. There was a hint of a beard forming and a five o’clock shadow as well, but it made him look even more attractive.
“Time check,” he said. “It’s one in the morning.”
What a waste of time, she thought. She hadn’t done anything outstanding in a club at all. This was no Latin dance club, unfortunately. “I think I have to go home,” she said, feeling her tongue loosen. After one drink? She scorned herself. This was her at her alcoholic weakest. Maybe she was tired. She was about to lose a job, after all. I still have one month… she thought.
“You okay?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m just sleepy.”
“Weak,” he said with a laugh.
“Make fun of me all you want. You don’t have a real job,” she said.
Oh, you have no idea. “There are certain days called rest days, which I’m sure you have.” Even on weekends, his mind was always running with business possibilities. People slept while he worked, checking the company’s stocks and their properties. That was the problem with being a bit obsessively compulsive when it came to work.
“I need to study,” she told him, her eyes looking droopy.
“Where do you live?” he asked her.
Oh, he wanted to know where she lived. So she could be taken advantage of? She shook her head, finishing the second glass. She was getting home herself. She could walk. The bar was only a few blocks away from her place. The staircase leading to the fourth floor suddenly seemed like a big deal to her. “I’ll get home on my own. Your friends are here. You can still have fun.”
Another set began to play, the people began to get rowdy again, and the waiters were in full swing, delivering bottles and glasses to the nearby VIP tables. Aliya stood up and gave him a smile.
“I’ll be off,” she shouted to him.
“I’m taking you home,” he said with a frown, holding onto her elbow. She shoved his hand away clumsily.
“I’m fine,” she told him. “I live close by.”
“Roommates, who are your roommates?” he asked her.
She shook her head, suddenly hating the noise. She wanted quiet, and she wanted to study; she wanted to sleep—anything but this uproar. “I live alone, don’t worry.”
Even more reason to worry. “Which building?” he asked. He knew nearly all the good buildings and excellent properties in Florida, but he wasn’t so sure about her place. “Address, I need an address.”
She dismissed him, waving one hand in the air. She walked away from the VIP section, heading for the exit, disliking the feeling that she couldn’t control her strides or her words. As soon as she stepped out, she felt the bite of cold air against her skin, and she forced herself to be sober. Her head felt heavy, and she knew it was going to be a long walk home.
“Wait,” he told her. “I’m taking you home.”
He quickly spoke to the bouncer, who sent the valet to get his car. Aliya had begun to walk away from the club.
“Aliya,” he called to her, dragging her back. “I said I’m taking you home.”
“I said I live close by,” she mumbled. “You can go back inside and enjoy your day off. I don’t have any, unfortunately.”
Her voice sounded so sad that it made James laugh aloud. As soon as he got his car, he helped Aliya get into the passenger’s side of his two-door vehicle, securing her with the seatbelt.
“Where do you—?” he stopped, seeing her head lolling onto the door. She was asleep.
He shook his head. He should’ve known. She was a terrible alcohol drinker. Now what, he thought. He sighed and revved the engine up; the sight of Aliya made him sleepy. There goes my Saturday, he thought.
James took one last look at her, smiling a bit as he saw her mouth half open while she slept. Then, he drove off into the night.