Where He Stands

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Starbucks Revelation

At precisely seven in the evening that night, I was standing outside Starbucks. I was about to go in, but a little part of me doesn’t want to. That part of me wants to believe Mr. Hoffman words, even though they were untrue. That part of me – the safe side – wants to believe that this was a wrong decision.

“Aren’t you going to go in?” an annoyed guy in his twenties asked me.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door. I didn’t see Isaac right away so I went to the counter and ordered a Mocha Frappuccino. The cashier was kind of cute as he was smiling at me in a flirty way but I was too preoccupied. He took a grande cup and asked for my name.

“Um, Rebecca,” I replied instantly. As he wrote down my name, I asked him, “Was there an Isaac before I entered?”

“Yep,” he said and nodded at the farthest side of the table. “He’s there.”

“Thank you very much,” I said and gave him an award-winning smile. He smiled back, which was really nice. Well, I have eyes for another guy but this cute cashier deserves a smile.

I took my drink when they called my name and went to Isaac’s table. He wasn’t trying to be discreet or anything. He was sipping his drink while playing with his phone. He smiled slightly as he continued tapping on the screen.

“Hey, stalker,” I said coolly as I took the seat across him.

Isaac looked up and put down his phone. “Hey,” he said, unfazed.

I narrowed my eyes at him. That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. “So… now I’m here, you better tell me the real story.”

“Before I do, let me have your phone.”

“What for?”

“So I could be sure that you’re not recording our conversation. Or how about I empty your pockets first before we talk? I don’t want to take any risks,” he said with a tight smile. “You think I don’t know the police are after me? Why do you think I’ve left my apartment hours ago?”

“Fine,” I snapped at him and fished my phone out of my pockets. I slammed it on the table out of frustration. He patted my pockets, my coat pocket, checked my bag and even forced me to pull down my collar so he could see if there’s some tiny microphone or something.

“Are you done now?” I muttered, annoyed as he turned off my phone.

“Yes,” he said and leaned on his seat, now comfortable and relaxed. “So, what should I tell you?”

“The real reason why you’re doing this to Oliver’s family. What did you tell Mr. Hoffman that got you fired?”

“Well, it started when I was about twenty-one years old,” he started. “I didn’t go to college, since I don’t have the money to do so. Luckily, I got the job as Mr. Hoffman’s chauffer so that’s good enough for me. Because I’m driving him around, I got to meet some of his close and trustworthy friends. One of them was your brother, Michael.”

“So you were best buddies with my brother,” I deadpanned.

Isaac nodded. “Yeah, we were, but not really best. Anyway, I dropped Mr. Hoffman to the building one morning like I always do. I was running out of gas so I stopped by to this gasoline station to refill. But when I looked back to the backseat, there was a letter. Curiosity got the best of me and I picked it up. It was from the bank.”

“The bank?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Mr. Hoffman’s bank is writing to him that he is deep in debt,” Isaac said, all serious. “I knew Mr. Hoffman is gambling a lot, but it didn’t occur to me that he was almost broke. The bank also stated that his condo could be taken away from him if he wouldn’t pay within two weeks. That night, I gave Mr. Hoffman the letter and I asked him if he is going to pay the bank. He was angry at me for reading a private letter but he told me that he’s going to pay. I asked him how but he doesn’t want to tell me.”