The Traitors

Chapter 6 - Logan

The sidewalk was saturated with water from the most recent rainstorm. Today was the first the sun had appeared in days. My shoes clomped along the pavement, splashing the freezing puddles upward. I trudged carefully worried the liquid was going to drench my socks, and leave me uncomfortable the rest of the day. I kept my jaw clenched to keep it from shaking from the frigid air. 

God, I hated this time of year. April was supposed to be warming up, but the rain made the coldness linger longer than I liked.

I quickly crossed the street and walked up onto the curb along the side of the café. Margie's Mug was plastered above the door in big letters. The front of the brick building was coated in big glass windows which stretched from one side of the corner to the other.

I had walked by this building hundreds of times, but never stepped foot inside. The place was two blocks away from the garage I worked at, but it was a popular spot. It always seemed packed full of business people grabbing their morning brews and rushing out the door. I could brew a better cup of coffee at home anyway.

Why was I here then? Well, it just so happens that Margie's Mug was the half-way point between where I lived and Fi's apartment. The café was our meeting location so we could talk about...well, whatever she wanted to talk about. 

Fi was cryptic on the phone the other night about whatever was ailing her, but begged to meet up with me in person. I assumed she was still in some pain because why else would she want to see me? 

I reached for the door handle but decided to have a quick smoke instead. I was earlier than the time Fi requested to meet, so it wouldn't kill me to have a cigarette.

I laughed at the irony as I lit the stick wedged between my lips and inhaled deeply. My nicotine addiction wasn't real. The action was nothing more than a reminder that it was pointless. I was spending money on a fake habit in order to have a habit because I strived for something ordinary, and it was serving its purpose by doing just that.

The only upside to this pathetic inclination was it had zero impact on my body. I found the same would happen with any substance I welcomed into my body. The high of drugs and the tipsiness of alcohol: The Trait removed all the effects and it pissed me the fuck off. 

I missed the late nights, smoking with the boys behind the shop after a long shift at the garage. I still could, but I didn't see the point in smoking if I'd never feel the high again. Going to bars was no different either. I could drink anyone under the table and not feel a damn thing. Any outlet I had used prior to Mal Corp went out the minute they forced this Trait on me. I was struggling to readjust to a "normal" life, but I would never be normal.

A tug on my arm caused me jump as a natural reflex. I whipped my head to the side where I felt the pull. My startled eyes fell onto the red head who had been driving me mad with her silence. I was thankful she had finally reached out to me. I just wished the circumstances were better. Something was wrong and I didn't know what.

"Hey," she jerked backward surprised by my reaction, "you okay?" She asked, scanning my face with worry stuck on hers.

"Yeah," I rubbed the back of my neck as a nervous tick, "sorry, I was lost in thought. You weren't standing here long, were you?"

"No," she tugged on her black coat to protect her from the wind, "but it seems like you were," she motioned to my cigarette which had gone out from not being touched.

I awkwardly laughed while chucking the unlit stick in the smoker's pole stationed behind me, "I didn't really want you to see me smoking," I admitted as I turned around to face her again.

"Oh, you're fine. It doesn't bother me," she shrugged then pointed to the door. "Can we go inside? I'm freezing!" I nodded and had her lead the way. 

The smell of coffee lingered in the air which made me hopeful that it would taste as strong as it smelled. Inside was significantly warmer which reached my chilled bones immediately. The café was fairly busy, but there were still available tables which pleased Fi. She glanced over her shoulder at me with a sweet smile as she motioned to a free booth in the corner which was away from most of the other customers. I gently rested my hand on her back and ushered her forward toward the table she wanted. She didn't seem bothered by my hand, but I still removed it as soon as she began to make her way through the shop.