Page 9 of May 11

She rolled her eyes. He wasn't going to drop the subject.

"I don't know anymore." She glanced at Dania. "You heard me talking about the job." She leaned forward and whispered, "Please don't screw this up for me."

"Don't take the job." He leaned closer. "Hit the road. Get out of here and go find your fun somewhere else."

"My fun?" She gawked at him.

For him to assume her life was filled with fun rubbed her the wrong way. He had no idea about her life or what she'd lived through.

He stood from the table without another word, grabbed his coffee and muffin from Dania, and walked out of the coffee shop. Cora breathed in relief. He made her uneasy.

She'd never had the chance to hang around questionable people before. The ruggedness and mystery only added to his sexiness, and that threw her off. All the older people she grew up around wore suits for a living, not leather vests and tattoos.

"Here you go." Dania put the drink and roll in front of Cora and sat down. "Have you worked in the coffee business or a restaurant?"

"No."

Dania tilted her head. "Retail?"

She shook her head, reminding herself of all the manners her mother had drilled into her head. Be polite. No slang. No acronyms. Act confident and pretend you can do anything.

"Customer service?"

"I've never worked before." She shifted in her chair and held up her hand. "But I know how to make all different types of coffees and have experience with a Breville Barista Pro. If you like, I could look at your menu and either show you or go through the movements of what would need to be done to concoct the drinks."

Her mother's kitchen was outfitted with every appliance known to man. When her parents' personal chef was gone, Cora would often make herself at home in the kitchen, using recipes from TikTok.

"No experience." Dania sat back in the chair. "I don't have time to—"

"No one has ever had to hold my hand. Give me a day, and I'll show you. If you don't think I'll work out by the time the shop closes for the day, no harm done." She sprawled her hands on the top of the table. "I take instructions well."

"How old are you?" asked Dania.

She smiled. "As of today, I'm twenty-one."

"Today's your birthday?"

She nodded. While it hadn't started well, maybe she had to go through the shooting drama to get the job. Maybe this is where she was supposed to be. Maybe this is where she'd find information about her brother.

"Because it's your birthday. I'll give you a chance." Dania sat up straighter. "Let's see what you can do in the next two hours, and I'll let you know if you have the job when we close at four o'clock."

She thrust her hand out and clasped Dania's hand. "Thank you."

"Eat your cinnamon roll and drink your coffee." Dania pointed behind the counter. "Then you can put an apron on, and we'll see what you got."

She picked up her roll. "Deal."

She wasn't raised to think she couldn't do something. She was taught that everything was possible. While she might've overconfidently assumed she could do the job, she couldn't imagine that learning how to make drinks and serve pastries was hard. She'd watched her mom do that with her colleagues as Cora hid behind the banister at the top of the stairs when her mom entertained guests below.

It was always better if children were not seen or heard. But she had eyes, and she learned.

She took a bite of the cinnamon roll, settling her hungry stomach, and followed it with a cold swallow of Frappuccino.

Maybe the curse of May 11th would be gentler this year.

Nobody had died.

Yet.

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