Page 10 of King

What the fuck was that cream comment supposed to mean?

He hasn’t said anything about the train station either and I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. With how much alcohol was on his breath, I’m not sure if he even remembers.

Lea’s glares have gotten more narrow. “I’d leave you a tip but all I have are credit cards." She watches as I place the tray on the table before I meet her eye contact. “And you look like a girl who likes her tips in one-dollar bills.”

Placing the mug with bourbon in front of Damien I raise an eyebrow, my jaw tightening. Standing up straight, I clear my throat. “Listen, I’m sorry for what I said…”

“We’ll be willing to forgive and forget,” Isaac’s words slur into each other. He licks his lips. “If you get up on this table and put on a show.”

Blondie jumps in next, wiggling the latest iPhone, “I can find ‘Cherry Pie’ on one of my music subscriptions."

Lea smiles an evil grin, “I don’t know, she strikes me like the Def Leppard kind of stripper.”

Bitches.

My fists clench before the words shoot out of my mouth, “Nah, I’d be the kind of stripper to punch your face in.”

Damien’s voice booms, “And you won’t know what it’s like to have five dollars if you don’t get that last drink here, pronto.”

I’m taken aback, Lea letting out a cackle before I can even turn around. Christian looks apologetic but an idea pops into my head. I smirk, walking behind the counter.

Crouching I reach for my backpack. Rummaging through the beat-up thing, my fingers feel the small glass bottle. Pulling it out I check the label for good measure, “Jamaican Black Castor Oil”. I check over my shoulder to make sure I’m out of sight before I tip the oil into the mug. This stuff does wonders for my hair but it also does wonders for clearing out a colon.

“Sorry about the wait.” I push the mug towards Lea who looks at me with pursed lips.

I added extra hazelnut syrup to make up for the taste and I’m hoping she doesn’t notice. When she takes a sip, I gulp down some air, crossing my fingers behind my back.

She smiles, “Next time you fuck up I’m telling my mom she needs to start looking for better servants—I mean, help.”

I turn around, muttering under my breath, “The next time you go to the bathroom you need to bring more paper.”

“Speak up whore!” Lea barks from behind me.

I’m biting my tongue so hard I’m starting to taste copper, but when I turn around I give her my best fuck-you smile. “Enjoy.”

Damien and his crew don't stick around too long which means the rest of my shift isn't as dramatic. The following customers don't seem to care who takes their order. Most want their coffee fix, getting whatever specialty beans are on filter. Others are patient enough to wait for their cappuccinos and lattes. As for the tips? Five and ten dollar bills add up.

Around nine, Cindy calls to say I can go once I clean up and take out the trash. She directs me to go through the back door and lock the front. Once I’m off the phone I lean against the counter, looking at the mess I made in the few hours of my shift. Coffee beans are everywhere, syrup spilling onto the counter.

“Want some help?” Willow asks.

I smile, “I’ll give you the tips?”

She nods. “Deal.”

In an hour the shop is near spotless and I’m heading out the French doors with a big black bag.

When I push on the handle my sister calls out, “I’m going to the bathroom!”

I nod as the cool night air brushes across my face. The lot is empty save for two large green dumpsters at the far end. I’m not used to how quiet Eden Gardens is at night. I can even hear crickets chirping around me, the sound of my boots dragging on the pavement.

There’s a rustle from the small forest behind the cafe and I grip the bag tighter, my free hand in a fist. Shaking my head I laugh to myself, realizing where I am. As if there’d be anything worth running from in Eden. This neighbourhood has more Bentleys than it does criminals.

Making it to the dumpsters, I flip open the top of the one closest to me, throwing the bag over. I’m actually looking forward to going back to the Archibald mansion. Best case scenario, Nancy and Eric are already in bed. That means Willow and I can relax in my room with a movie and forget the shittiness of the day.

“Hey, Little Mama.”

His voice makes me jump, the lid of the garbage slipping from my fingers. It slams closed while I try to catch my breath.

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