Page 15 of Manic

I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves.

"All right, ladies," I call out to Amber, Jasmine, and Chloe, the three girls Dasha and I hired. They're bustling around, adjusting their skimpy uniforms and checking the equipment. "How do you feel about a trial run today?"

Amber, a perky redhead, grins. "Hell yeah, bring it on!"

I can't help but smile at their enthusiasm. "Great. We'll open from 9 to 11. I'll make a quick post online."

As I update our social media, I hear Jasmine ask, "You think we'll be busy?"

I look up, meeting her nervous gaze. "Honey, in this outfit? You'll be beating them off with a stick."

The girls laugh, and I feel a swell of pride.

They're capable, confident, and ready for this.

I head to the back, where Tindra's prepping in the kitchen.

"Hey, kiddo," I say, ruffling her hair. "You good back here?"

She nods, focused on arranging muffins. "Yeah, Mom. I've got this."

I give her a quick rundown of what's happening out front, then return to the main area.

As the clock strikes 9, I flip the 'OPEN' sign and brace myself.

Within minutes, the bell above the door starts chiming incessantly.

The sweet aroma of vanilla and caramel mixes with the earthy coffee scent as orders start flowing.

I'm a whirlwind behind the counter, calling out drinks and flashing smiles.

"Holy shit," Chloe whispers as she passes me, her arms laden with empty cups. "Is it always like this?"

I laugh, the sound slightly manic. "Welcome to Beans & Babes, sweetheart."

As I ring up another order, I glance at the tip jar.

It's overflowing, and we're barely thirty minutes in.

A quick count confirms my suspicion—we've already raked in close to $400 in tips alone.

My heart races, partly from the caffeine, partly from excitement.

This is it.

This is what I've been working toward.

A fresh start, a successful business, a safe place for Tindra and me.

I can only hope it stays safe… but I know it won’t.

My father found me in Atlanta, and I know it’s only a matter of time until he figures out I’m back in Tallahassee.

For a moment, I allow myself to bask in the small success of this trial run.

But as I call out another order, a nagging thought creeps in.

I need to reach out to Starla, and go to the club.

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