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“It’s nothing.” I can’t keep my voice from shaking. “I just need a second—a bathroom break, I mean. I’ll be right back.”
I slip through the kitchen door and into the back hall where the employee’s restroom is located and lock the door behind me. I splash cold water on my face, but it doesn’t help—I’m still shaking. It takes several minutes before I even begin to calm down.
I don’t understand why Sean is doing this. My first thought is to tell Deklan what happened, but I fear that will make matters even worse. Sean is Dek’s boss. If Deklan gets angry and confronts Sean, what might happen to him?
I remember how he looked in that hospital bed, and my mind immediately conjures up a much worse version: Deklan unconscious with tubes running out of him and Dr. Henry telling me he’s not going to make it.
Sean would do it, too.
“Kera? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Terry.”
“Are you sure? I shouldn’t really leave the counter, but you’ve been in here a while. Are you sick?”
“I’ll be out in just a minute.”
“Okay.”
I hear him walk away, splash more water on my face, and stare into the mirror. My eyes look hollow and red. Had I been crying? I can’t remember. I wish I had brought my purse in with me so I could at least fix my makeup.
My purse.
My purse has a small, .22-caliber pistol in it. Deklan insists I keep it with me anytime I leave the apartment. Both of them are in the employee break area, inside a locker. Maybe I should keep it on me, but I have a feeling management would frown on an armed barista. Besides, what would I have done with it? Threatened Sean Foley? Shot him?
I shake my head to rid myself of such ridiculous thoughts, take several deep breaths, and return to my station.
Several people are already in line, and I manage to throw myself into making mochas and lattes. I focus on the ratios of coffee to cream to various flavorings and push thoughts of Sean Foley out of my head completely. By the time business slows down, and Terry asks me how I’m doing, I am able to smile sweetly and tell him everything is fine.
That evening, Deklan is harder to convince.
After dinner, we sit on the couch with the television turned on to the news. The reporter is talking about increased violence on the east side of town and possible connections to organized crime. I sit with my e-reader in my lap, but I can’t focus on the words long enough to actually read.
“What’s on your mind?” Deklan suddenly asks.
“What?” I glance up from the screen. “Nothing.”
“You have been staring at that same page for a half hour. You obviously aren’t reading.”
I shrug. Anything I say will just remind me of my encounter with Sean Foley, so I say nothing. As Deklan continues to ask questions, my muscles tense, and I clench my teeth. He wants to know everything I did all day long, but he never tells me anything about what he’s done all day. He never tells me anything about himself at all.
“Tell me about your day at work,” he says.
“I made a lot of coffee.”
“Come on, Kera.” Deklan turns toward me and takes my chin between his fingers. “You’re obviously upset about something. Apartment life bores you, so it has to be something at work. Is one of your coworkers giving you shit?”
“No, Terry is fine.”
“Terry?”
“My coworker.”
“What is it, then?”
“Nothing.”
“Dammit! Will you stop saying that? You’ve barely uttered ten words since I got home. Tell me what’s going on!”
