Page 71 of Latte Girl
My dad clearly thinks I’m bluffing, that he’s just indulging childish threats to run away from home when he knows I’ll be back before sundown. I’m on such an adrenalin high right now that the thought doesn’t even bother me, as if I’m in a bubble where nothing bad can touch me. Even the fact that I don’t know where I’ll sleep tonight doesn’tpopit.
I float to my office and toss the few things I have there into mybriefcase.
Okay, I tell myself,now it’s time to getthegirl.
In less than five minutes I’m walking through the door of Dark Brown. I recognize the blonde behind the counter from Flirtini Friday. She has movie star features so sharp they’re almost cruel. When she narrows her eyes at me as I approach, I feel like an ant trying to scurry out from under a magnifyingglass.
“Is Hailey here?” I ask, more hesitant than Iintended.
“You’re Jordan, aren’t you?” she demands, ignoring myquestion.
“Yeah, I’m Jordan. I know she probably doesn’t want to see me, but could you tell her I’m here? I have something importanttosay.”
She flips her hair over her shoulder and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Hailey doesn’t work here anymore,” she announces, “and you’re right. She doesn’t want toseeyou.”
I shake my head from side to side, her words refusing to arrange themselves into a meaning I canaccept.
“She doesn’t work here anymore?”Iecho.
“That’s right.Shequit.”
The blonde girl fixes me in her stare. Her eyes flash hot enough to burn. “You screwed up, Jordan. You lost her. She’s gone. She just wants you to leave heralone.”
I place a hand on the counter to steady myself. “She quit becauseofme?”
The girl gives a sharp laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. She quit because she was done with this place a long time ago. Finding out what an asshole you turned out to be was just the final push she needed to get herself outthedoor.”
“But I don’t know how else to find her,” I say, my tone verging ondesperate.
The girl’s eyebrows draw together just a bit, a crack of sympathy showing through her angry-friendmask.
“That’s kind of the point,” she tells me, a hint of softness in her voice. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I havecustomers.”
She turns to the few people who have collected bythecash.
I back away, feeling like I’ve reached a dead end in a maze when I thought I’d found the exit. I sit down at one of the tables and let my mind run in circles, scratching at walls and rounding the same corners again andagain.
Where else wouldHaileygo?
The idea rises in me like steam from a coffee mug. I get my phone out and look up theaddress.
* * *
Cuppa Joe isnext to empty when I walk inside, making it easy that see that Hailey is not miraculously sitting on one of the couches, a smile of forgiveness lighting up her face at the sight of me coming through the door. I don’t think I actually expected her to be here, but the disappointment shatters me justthesame.
The woman with purple hair that spoke to us on our date is standing behind the counter, eyeing me as I take a few steps into the cafe. Desperation sends me stridingtowardsher.
“Haveyouseen—”
I cut myself off, realizing I’m just going to sound like a stalker all overagain.
“Never mind,” I say, shaking my head. “She’s not here. I don’t know why I thought shewouldbe.”
I turn to leave, but the woman calls outtome.
“I recognize you. You’re Hailey’s...You’re Jordan,aren’tyou?”
I face her again. “Yes.That’sme.”
