Her Coffee Hearts and Angel Wings

Chapter 1

    “This is your one chance. This is your big break!” Tiff slams her fist onto the worn wooden table and it creaks ominously. 

    “I’ve told you before,” I say studiously, avoiding her angry eyes. “I don’t want to get into that. Tiff, we’re just roommates. I’m not your business partner.” 

    “Your life would never be the same, Gabriella.” 

    “I know,” I tell her. “That’s why I can’t accept your offer. I’m sorry.” Tiff stares me down for a few dangerous seconds, hackles raised, feline features curled in disgust. 

    I have to remind myself that Tiff is not stupid enough to attack me in my own apartment. And then that kind old Mrs. Mowley from next door would call the police if I screamed loud enough.

    “Ok,” Tiff says finally, measuredly. “If you want to rot in Crime Alley for the rest of your life, that’s your choice.” When she says that, it bothers me. Maybe Tiff has watched me closely enough to notice that that’s my nightmare-- dying here, old, alone, and broke. 

    “You’re here too,” I say frustratedly. “If you’re really making so much, why haven’t you moved?” She presses her thin lips together and tucks a strand of her brittle, bleached white hair behind her ears. 

    “Ask all the questions you want, Gabriella. When you join the trade, then I’ll give you some answers.”

    “Ok, Tiff,” I say, turning my back to her. “Do you want Chinese or pizza?”

    She nods, accepting my peace offering.

    “Chinese. Boiled frog with a side of fried horse vein.” She flashes me a wicked smile as I recoil in disgust, her sharp teeth gnawing into her bottom lip. Drawing blood.

    She makes a big show of dragging her tongue over her slick lip.

    I turn away, stomach churning, and call in her order plus vegetarian dumplings for myself. Then I grab my shabby peacoat and an old beanie, escaping the apartment. Tiff waves me goodbye and imparts a few last words before the door between us closes; “Be fast, I’m hungry.”

    I think about how glad I am to be away from Tiff as I begin the walk to the small run-down Chinese shack a few blocks over. If I could afford somewhere else, I’d move in a heartbeat. It’s nonsensical, the way I placate her and follow her orders like she has something on me when she’s the criminal and I’ve never run a red light in my life. 

    I like to think sometimes that Tiff isn’t so bad, but that’s probably just my tendency to find the best in people and cling to it. My mother used to say that that would be my fatal flaw-- my complete and utter refusal to acknowledge the danger in a person. If she could see me now, she would be horrified. Living with a drug lord, tuning down offers to join her trope almost every other day.

    The thing is, what Tiff says is true. If I accepted her offer, I would never have another financial problem in my life. But in a world where it feels like I’m the only sane person for miles, how can I willingly sell my soul to the scum of Gotham? I’ve seen firsthand what those drugs can do. Most of us here have. Gotham has the biggest child substance abuse rate in the country. I know in my heart I couldn’t ever live with myself if I accepted Tiff’s offer.

    Sure, the money would be nice, but my soul’s not for sale. 

    I’m not even halfway done contemplating my evil roommate and the problems of Gotham when I come across my coffee shop, Gina’s Coffee and Diner. I figure Tiff can wait a bit for her severed animals and step inside.
    As soon as I’m surrounded by the musky smell of coffee, I relax. 

    “The usual?” Gina asks from behind the counter.

    “Yeah, please. Soy latte with a heart on top.” Gina, a middle-aged woman with a larger nose and yellow blonde hair beams at me over her shoulder.

    “You’re special, Gabriella,” she says. “You’re the most purest thing a person could find in Crime Alley, you know that?”
    And I just smile goofily back at her, not even bothering to contradict what she’s said about me. Is it true? Who really knows?

    “Positivity, Gina, my friend,” I respond, tugging on a loose dark honey blonde curl. “A little bit of love every day. I like my coffee hearts.”

    From somewhere to my left comes a huge snort, and I turn instinctively, annoyed at whoever is looking down on my optimism. There’s a couple giving each other moon eyes over their root beer float sundaes and a man some years older than me digging into a steak. None of the three look back at me, but from the attitude radiating from the man I can make a pretty accurate guess at who it was. He has lighter skin and dark hair, and my annoyance quickly scampers away when I realize how huge and built he is. I hastily turn away and accept my latte from Gina.

    “Thank you,” I say, giving her a little more than the latte was worth. “Keep the change.” She knows by now not to argue, so we wave good-bye and I take my coffee with me for the rest of the walk to the Chinese shack. As I pass the window of the diner, I glance back at the man. He’s staring right at me now. Maybe it was just the glare of the sun on the glass, but I decide it’s best to pull up my hood and hurry on my way.