Craft II (The Craft Saga)

30 - Coffee & A Catch-Up

I stirred my latte with my spoon as the comforting sounds of the coffee shop hummed gently in the background of my ongoing sporadic thoughts. As people around me chattered about their day, I was bashfully replaying the night I'd slept with Ollie in my mind. As the grey-haired owner speedily fulfilled her customer's orders, I was anxiously thinking about the thousands of dollars in drug money sitting in my bedroom. As laughter, happy greetings and normality filled up the tiny little coffee shop in the centre of town, I was fixated on the door for any sign of a Cabrera stepping through it as one hand rested on the handbag containing my gun. Oh how the tiny world of Garden City continued on, unaware of how crazy and dangerous my life was.

I had walked into town for coffee to get myself out of the house. I had debated inviting Crystal so I had someone to sit with and make me feel like I blended in a little more with everyone else in the coffee shop, but I was too afraid of bumping into someone I really didn't want to and consequently dragging Crystal into something dangerous. Instead, I brought the handgun gifted to me by Ollie as my companion. I felt safer with it on me but even still, I also felt like a sitting duck just sipping a latte right in the middle of town where anyone could see me.

I finished it off and left my payment on the table along with a tip, got up from my chair and securely hooked my arm through the handle of my handbag, ensuring for the hundredth time that the zipper was fully zipped shut.

'Thank you.' I smiled politely at the owner as I passed the counter to the exit.

'Thank you; come again soon!' She called out to me as I reached the door and I exited the coffee shop, hoping one day I would be able to come again without incessantly biting at the skin on my lip the whole time for fear of suddenly being spotted and dragged into the boot of a car.

I wanted to stay in town and look around. I wanted to at least do some window shopping and especially take some time in the lingerie store I'd spotted to possibly purchase some cute underwear. I didn't know for sure if anything would happen between Ollie and me again, but there was no harm in being prepared in case it did.

I dismissed the idea to shop around and thought it best to head back home. I had to get out of the house when I could, but even I knew I couldn't push my luck and put myself at risk. A quick latte at the coffee shop and a nice walk was enough for me for one day, so I turned to make my way back towards my neighbourhood.

As I passed by a little second-hand bookstore, something caught my eye. My breath caught in my throat and a sting formed in my nose. Immediately, as I pressed my palm to the glass of the display window, I felt tears dare to fall. Displayed in the bookstore window was a copy of The Grass Is Singing. It was one of my mother's favourite books and one of the memoirs I'd had left of her back when I had still lived at home. It was the last book of hers I had read before I'd offered myself up as Asher's spy and my life completely changed.

'Oh, Mom,' I whispered, wishing she was still here now. Wishing I could hear her voice and her words of comfort to tell me everything would be okay in the end. To tell me I was doing so well to take care of myself and be strong and that I had done the right thing to turn my back on Asher. Surely she would be disgraced by the way he had treated me. Surely she would be proud of me for leaving that life.

It was a beautiful sight to see something that reminded me of her, but that comforting and nostalgic feeling that had me softly smiling through the window was short-lived, and quickly replaced by fear and shock and the hairs on the back of my neck standing chillingly. The voice I heard behind me, was a voice that I'd once loved to hear, but in that moment, it brought me instant panic.

'See something you like?' His tone was sinister and unpredictable. I turned around and looked to the edge of the sidewalk, where Junior Cabrera stood with his hands in his pockets. 'Hello, Cece.'