Alibi for a Tragedy

Chapter 7: PTSD

I'm hit with a rather welcome, chilly breeze and a few rain droplets when I step foot outside my car, parked just opposite a few clothing stores, restaurants and one of the few coffee shops in the area, Danny's where I'm currently heading to meet someone. The sky is being complimented by magnificent white streaks of sunshine, only the few that were brave enough to escape through the dark grey clouds.

My nostrils are suffering from slight PTSD as the smell of water, hitting the ground for the first time today, reminds me of my childhood when I would purposefully run into the rain and eat the wet sand because somehow according to my small developing brain, eating the sand would satisfy me. The only way I would stop was when my mother or father would physically grab me and lock me inside the house. Years later my mom would threaten me, by telling that she would stop making me soup, if I was to ever get sick from standing under the rain. I was a mentally challenged child. My mother's words, not mine.

The smell of the rain is immediately replaced with that off freshly brewed coffee as I open the door leading into Danny's. I choose my usually table by the window, the only place I can look out onto the people without having someone behind me staring at me. I remove my coat and scarf, placing it onto the vacant chair next to me.

"Hey Laura," Bree dressed in all black with an apron containing the coffee shop's logo, greets me with a smile as she stands next to me, "unusual hour, should I still get you the usual?"

"Yes, please," I mention with a wink. She nods and leans in to grab the menu that was on the table when I arrived, but I grab it before she can, "No you can leave it."

She eyes more wearily, but it's quickly replaced with a neutral expression when I smile a, "Cle!"

"I'll be right back with your coffee," she says and walks away.

Okay, so I probably have a bit of explaining to do. Danny's cafe.
As you have probably figured it out and if you haven't then wow, but Danny's is our meet point. None one ever suspects anything and for all they know, I like drinking coffee and taking small breaks here. And if anyone has questions, anyone that I meet here is a future Fansford client who just needed a bit of motivation and validation.
Every morning and evening I pop in and get my coffee. Underneath the coffee cup is a small compartment, so whenever Den or Hoffter need to update us on new intel about our mission, they inset it in there and if there is nothing to be informed about, I just enjoy the coffee. After reading the intel, we burn the baby and every single day I repeat the process.

We also have two workers here, two girls that always ensure that we get our "coffee". Bree and the other girl I keep forgetting her name, but you've probably met her already, but if not, you will soon. You'll just know.

Today, I am meeting Cle. Our Strategic Head. This time around, she'll be giving me the talk. Oh yes, even I have to endure an hour-long session with someone I barely know as they teach me how to seduce and ultimately how to have heterosexual sex.

The small coffee shop smells of a mixture of coffee and burnt wood and my mouth is still drooling since the moment I walked in, the aroma feeling up all my senses. Forgetting the real reason I'm here right now... this is why I am a coffee addict.

On the walls are recordings and posters of a few singers. Ranging from old bands such as the Beatles to some of the current ones, including my favourite, Panic at Disco. There's also posters of Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, Bob Marley, Lauren Hill and Ella Fitzgerald, accompanied by one of her greats, summertime, as it sets the atmosphere.
The coffee shop itself isn't packed. Just a few tables. One of them is currently occupied by 2 people with books and laptops open, headphones on as they take advantage of the atmosphere and internet connection, chewing away onto their phones and fingernails.

Since Steven's mission at Gideon's farm was successful and he managed to plant a listening device in their family room, but so far we've learned nothing about the drug business, just more about Gideon's brother's relapse with heroin and Gideon's casual sex with his cousin. Not to say that I was disappointed, but surprised that after ten years his family family has not caught on to anything.

Just then, the little doorbell rings, jolting my head up as someone walks in and takes a seat opposite me.

Lots of Love -from your friendly, neighbouring chicken