Page 6 of Trent
5
Harper
“I ordered a soy latte extra creme two sugars.” The woman in front of me is almost apoplectic. There’s spittle flying out her mouth. Her teeth are bared like a dog who’s just caught an intruder. “This is a cappuccino!”
“Sorry, ma’am.” I take the drink from her and quickly start making the correct order.
Ever since that night at Trent’s house, I’ve been making mistake after mistake. Megan keeps on looking at me and I know she’s starting to regret hiring me. This job is important. I need to keep it. But I can’t seem to get my head in the game. Not while I’m thinking about Trent all the time.
It’s been three days since I saw him. Three days of sleeping in my car. The temptation to crawl back to his mansion in the woods has been overwhelming. But then I remember that envelope. I remember how it made me feel.
He may have put on a good show, but I can see right through him. I’m just some sad charity case. A poor, defenseless girl he can smother in riches and then use and abuse.
Passing the drink across the counter, I apologize to the customer. She just sneers at me and walks away.
A man walks through the door, and for a second I think it’s Trent. My heart leaps in my chest and my palms are instantly sweaty. But on closer inspection, it’s just another tall man wearing a suit.
I let out a sigh. Every man who walks in the place has me all worked up. The more I try and force Trent from my mind, the more he seems to wriggle his way in. I feel like a crack addict, jonesing for her next fix.
Megan takes over the pay station and I busy myself making the drinks. The orders pile up in front of me, but I keep calm. It feels good to keep my hands and my head busy. For a while, Trent doesn’t even pop into my mind. All the drinks go out perfectly. Megan smiles at me and tells me I’m doing a good job. A glow of happiness swells up in my chest. All I have to do is keep busy, keep my head down and get on with things. I’ll have forgotten about Trent soon enough. No doubt, like he’s forgotten about me.
A man like him, he probably has a whole swarm of women eager to meet his every need. His bedroom is probably a conveyor belt of gorgeous, lithe models. I must be mad to think he was ever truly interested in me. That he ever cared.
“Look who it is.” I look up from my thoughts to see Ben standing in front of the counter. There’s a big shit-eating grin on his face. A gold chain is wrapped around his neck. He’s wearing gold bracelets and expensive sunglasses and all his designer clothes look brand new.
“Ben,” I say, trying to force a smile onto my face. The last thing I want is to cause a scene at work and get fired. “How can I help you?”
“Help me?” He laughs and turns around to look at the people behind him. It’s like he thinks he’s the lead in his own movie. But at least today he’s not being violent or aggressive. Hopefully, soon he’ll be out of my life forever. And good riddance. “You’ve helped me plenty. Or didn’t you know?”
“Know what?” I try and hide my curiosity by concentrating on the screen in front of me, but inside I’m dying to hear what he has to say. Four days ago he was outside demanding money. Now he’s turned up looking like he’s won the lottery.
“Your boyfriend,” he sneers, “I sued his ass.” He whistles and looks around himself again as if the strangers beside him are part of his entourage. When he sees that nobody cares what he puts his hands on the counter and leans across it. His voice is a malevolent whisper. “Big payout.” He rubs his thumb and forefinger together. “I bled that sucker dry.”
“Good for you,” I say, trying to keep a tone of professionalism in my voice. Tears of anger well up inside me. I want to lean over and slap his stupid smug face. How is this fair? I’m sleeping in my car every night, and he gets a big payday for acting like a jerk.
My mind flickers back to the envelope Trent left me. I probably should have taken it. It would have solved a lot of problems. But I wanted to send a message. I wanted him to know I can’t be bought. That I’ll make it on my own, without his help. But he hasn’t been in since, so I’m guessing he either didn’t understand the message, or doesn't care.
To him, that amount of money must be pocket change. He might not have even noticed if it was there or not when he got home.
“Would you like something to drink?” I say, changing the subject. “Or maybe one of our homemade muffins. Their fresh-baked today. Just out the oven.”
Ben pretends to look at the pastries and the menu. A woman behind him crosses her arms and taps her foot. If he takes any longer he’s likely to cause a caffeine-desperate riot.
Then, just as he’s about to say something, a man clears his throat.
I look up and see Trent standing behind Ben. There are two police officers on either side of him.
“We had an agreement, Mr. Williams.”
Ben nervously fidgets with his collar. He looks from one police officer to the next and then at the exit. The police officer puts his hand on his taser. “I just came in here to get a coffee,” he stutters, “a little bit of lunch.”
“The agreement,” Trent continues, taking a step closer to Ben, “was that you never go within five hundred feet of Harper again. That you leave her alone. For the rest of your sad, miserable life.
“So,” Trent leans down and puts his mouth close to Bens’ ear. His voice is a low, threatening whisper. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. What do you say, punk? You gonna make my day?”
