“Sorry,” Sarah replied.
“No, you’re right,” she said. “No one even knows I’m running except for the very few people I know, and they’re already voting for me.”
“That’s not true. You told that woman yesterday, and she bought a book.”
“She did?”
“Yeah, something from the front table. I forget what. And you made that money from the people you called, too.”
“Two hundred and twenty dollars,” Maisie said, disappointed. “For three people and four hours of work.”
“But it’s still something,” Sarah replied. “What are you going to buy with it?”
“More posters to cover up his bus ads,” she said. “I’ll be back with your peach tea.”
“Thanks,” Sarah said.
Maisie pushed open the door, putting her phone in her back pocket and her wallet in her front pocket because she’d gotten pick-pocketed once when her wallet was in her back pocket. She’d also been mugged about four years ago while walking to the bus stop by her apartment. They’d taken everything from her that night. The phone, her wallet, and even the tampons in her purse. What really got her, though, was the picture of her parents. It was the only one she still had. Her mom had left before she was a teenager, so she had very few pictures of just her. She’d only had one of the three of them together. She’d kept it in her wallet to always have it on her, and the muggers took that from her. Everything else, including the tampons, were replaceable, but that wasn’t, and there weren’t any other copies.
It had been one of those ridiculous mall photobooths that her father had pulled all three of them into. Unable to all fit without squeezing together, she had sat on his lap, and her mom had been next to them. Her dad’s arm had been wrapped around her shoulders, and they’d all smiled widely four times as the camera flashed for each of the photos. The strip of four images had then printed outside, and Maisie still remembered reaching down to pick it up. She also still remembered how, in the first and fourth pictures, her mom’s smile had faded, and in the second and third, it looked a little forced, while Maisie and her father had genuine smiles. She guessed it was because her mom was about to leave. Her dad had cut the strip of four into two parts, and he’d kept one in his wallet. When Maisie had gotten old enough to have a wallet of herown, she’d put hers in it. Years later, when her dad died, the pictures he’d carried, along with everything else in his wallet, were destroyed, meaning she had nothing left to show that they had once been a family, and that still got to her. It got to her right now as she walked to the café.
What was she even trying to do for this city? Customers no longer seemed to want books. Everything was digital these days anyway. People had mugged her at knifepoint. They had threatened her life over twenty bucks and a photo they probably tossed aside. Maisie was spending her own money on a campaign she had no hope of winning, all to give the people someone who actually wanted to help them, someone who really cared, but it didn’t even seem like they wanted that help.
“Can I help you?” a woman in a security guard uniform asked from the lobby’s front desk when she entered the building.
“Just grabbing coffee.” Maisie nodded toward the café.
“Are you an employee?” the woman asked.
“Employee?”
“Of Southern Roastery.”
“Oh, no,” Maisie replied, confused.
“The café is employees-only.”
Maisie turned then because she recognized that voice.
“Hi,” the woman from yesterday greeted her.
“Oh, hi. Wait. What?” she asked.
“The café is for employees. It’s a store we use mainly for training purposes. It just opened.”
“I know. I saw all the trucks and stuff. I asked one of the guys working on it what was going on, and he said they were building a café. I thought it was just another location.”
“It’s not,” the woman said with a smile. “But if you want something, I can get it for you.” She held up her badge, indicating that she worked there. “I have a way in.”
Maisie laughed a little and said, “You sounded all James Bond there.”
“Well, that’s what I was going for.”
“Will you get in trouble?”
“No, but you should know that our very first class ever is there, training, so you’re risking a terrible drink.”
“Hey, now,” another woman said, walking up next to them. “I heard that. And my trainees are doing great.”
