Coffee Shop

• 19 •

A black car had parked directly behind Kyle's Honda. Its perfect paint job caught every glint of sunlight. And when the engine died, the driver-side door opened. A pair of matching, slick black shoes appeared on the stone path.

"What..." My eyes followed the shoes until I saw the full body of an older man, one I recognized. The sunglasses and grey hair. He was the same man who visited Mr. Paul during the week sometimes. My mouth went dry as he slid off his shades to give Brian and Kyle a hateful glare.

"I know him," I whispered, grabbing Brian's hand tight in mine. "Mr. Henrickson..."

"I told you not to come here anymore." The older man slammed his car door shut before taking a step in our direction. He didn't look at me, so he didn't recognize me. He kept his eyes on Brian. "This place, you aren't welcome here. I keep saying this."

I felt Brian tense at my side. "I was just leaving," he said. "I don't want any trouble."

"Trouble?" The older man spat at the ground. "You were always trouble. How many times have I told you not to come here, hm?"

Brian's jaw cracked as he clenched his fists. "I have every right to be here. And you know that."

"Do you?" The man pointed a finger at Brian's chest, bringing Kyle from his side-stance to defend his cousin. "And you? The walking Mills of County. Nothing but trouble." He focused on Brian and hissed, "All you did was get my daughter killed."

His daughter? Oh, no... he was Katerina's father, wasn't he?

"Hey man." Kyle pushed his shoulder back away from both of them. "He said he doesn't want trouble."

"So, you assault me?" The older man swiped at his sleeve. "Typical of you."

"Assault you?" Brian inched forward, hands in fists at his side. "He barely touched you!"

"See, that there, that anger. That's what killed my Katerina. I told you—" He pointed his finger at Brian's chest again. "—not to come here. Unless it's in court, I don't want to see your face. This—" He pointed behind us. "—this is for family, and you, you are not family."

The puzzle pieces in my mind clicked, one at a time, fitting in past moments I'd seen with Brian. The early morning or late-night phone calls? Legal calls, more than likely about things he'd owned with Katerina and now fought to keep.

And that afternoon at Mr. Paul's store. They'd seen each other, stood right next to each other, and I'd asked the wrong question. I hadn't asked if they knew each other; I asked if they were friends. And obviously, they were the farthest from it...

As Brian's body tensed again, his face pulled tight between anger and pain, the rest of the pieces came crashing down around us because this was the man who told Brian he would never change, never amount to anything. That day he'd been so upset, it was all Mr. Henrickson's fault. The negativity that radiated off this man was unreal.

And I thought he was polite... I was wrong.

He reminded me of someone I knew... of my father.

A memory came to me and flashed over my eyes, pulling me away from the moment. It was six years ago, and the day was just as sunny as this. My older brother, Jun, had already filed the paperwork to apply to college out of state, to follow his high school girlfriend seven hours away. It should have been a great day because I remember being happy, but it all came crashing down as soon as our father turned off the engine to his black truck into our driveway.

He'd stepped out in the sun and grabbed my brother by the collar, tugging him away from the girl he loved. Even with her there, he yelled. He said, "You're not allowed to make these decisions, you're not going to follow this girl."