Page 37 of Drum Me Away
When it was our turn to order, the barista’s gaze swept over us and then she chuckled. “Rough night?”
It had been the best night of my life, hands down, but she didn’t need to know that. Her assumption that we were hung over instead of famous was exactly what we wanted.
Faith smirked and said, “Something like that.”
The woman’s gaze zoned in on Faith’s mouth for a heartbeat and a half before she glanced at me and then asked what we’d like.
“I’ll take a large, dark chocolate mocha, please,” Faith said.
The woman’s eyes narrowed and then she said, “Faith Hearsy?”
I immediately scanned the shop to see if anyone had overheard her call out Faith, even though that wasn’t her last name. It was Devempor.
Faith’s body stiffened next to me and she shook her head hard enough that the colors hidden in the dark strands of her hair flashed an appearance, probably giving her away despite her denial if this woman was a fan of the band.
“Bullshit,” the woman said, pointing at Faith. “Your grandmother just died. My mom told me. The funeral’s tomorrow. We’re closing the shop so we can go.”
Faith’s shoulders went bowstring tight.
“I even told my mom, if there’s one thing that could bring Faith back to town, that would be it.”
So this wasn’t a fan; it was someone from Faith’s past. Based on the rigidness of Faith’s stance, it wasn’t a happy reunion, at least on her part.
“Don’t even pretend you don’t recognize me,” the barista said, her lip curling before she turned her back to fiddle with one of the machines lining the counter.
She swung back around holding a steaming coffee, which she slid across the smooth surface to Faith’s waiting, slightly trembling hand. “Regina Morrow. We went to school together, until ninth grade when your mom—”
“I remember,” Faith said stiffly, clutching the coffee but not tasting it.
Regina either didn’t notice her unease or chose to ignore it, instead shifting her focus to me. “Who’s this hottie, and what can I get him?”
“I’ll just have an iced latte.” I didn’t understand drinking hot drinks in the heat of summer, and I didn’t care about all the froufrou places like this put into their coffee concoctions.
A couple of people had stepped up behind us in line. So far, it didn’t appear as if anyone else recognized us, and I hoped the additional customers would speed along Regina’s process and help cut short whatever reminiscing that Faith very obviously did not want to do.
“Okay,” Regina said, moving away to make my drink. “But you didn’t tell me your name.”
“Lucas,” I said, since she didn’t appear to be a fan of the band.
Regina nodded. “So it’s all true, then?” She returned to the counter and offered me the iced beverage. “This. You. The band thing.” Her gaze was on Faith. I had an urge to point out that if she knew Faith and had not lived under a rock for the last few years, she knew the answer to her own question.
But I bit it back.
“You really did it,” Regina continued, her voice rising, almost like she wanted everyone in the shop to hear her. “You ditched your family to become a big, famous star.”
Time to cut our losses. I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and dropped it on the counter, then wrapped my arm around Faith’s back and guided her to the door without so much as a by-your-leave to any of the patrons who were all now giving us speculative looks.
Crap.
As soon as we were on the sidewalk, I said, “Do you want to get in the car and drive away or walk?”
“Walk,” she said, and so we did, eating up the pavement at a clipped pace while sipping our respective coffees in silence. We reached the end of the sidewalk, which opened onto a park with a pavilion overlooking a small pond with a spray of water in the middle and a playground off to the side.
She nodded to the other side of the street, and we crossed and headed back toward the various shops and our vehicle.
“I fucking hate that she makes such good coffee,” Faith finally muttered.
“I want to laugh because that’s funny after what just happened, but I don’t know that it’s appropriate,” I said.
