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My sister’s never been so nice to me before. She barely engaged after our parents died and the estate was divvied up. Quana mostly talked on the phone and patted my shoulder when I cried.
I know she means well. She always has, but we were never close. I was our parents’ surprise baby. My brother and Quana were horrified to have a drooling toddler around when they were starting their adult lives. I’ve never been more than a nuisance.
“I’m happy in McMurdo Valley.”
Scoffing, Quana steps back and gestures around my shop. “This isn’t happiness. You’re suffering a breakdown from our parents’ death. They were your life. I admit I should have been more supportive when they passed. I get wound up in myself at times. Life can be so busy, but I should have made time for you.”
My sister’s words lull me into lowering my guard. I’ve always wanted her approval. She was the successful version of me. To have her offer me a fresh start feels like a great gift from a woman who remained mostly blind to my worth.
I’m less overjoyed by how she looks around my shop as if she’s stepped into a low-rent dive. While XYZ Coffee isn’t fancy like one of her restaurants, it’s a comfortable, well-kept place. My guard returns to its proper position. Her praise quickly loses its value.
“I don’t want to be busy with work anymore,” I explain as I keep an eye on the parking lot. “New York City would be too much stress. I’m thinking of building a house, growing my own vegetables, and experimenting with food. I’m focusing on me, instead of work.”
Never before did I notice how much Quana looks like our mother until this moment when she stares at me full of pity. They own the same eyes. Their lips both get tight when they’re holding their tongues. I feel as if I’m looking into our mother’s eyes as she insists, “You’re not a failure.”
“No, not anymore,” I say defiantly. “I’m happy for the first time in my life.”
Quana looks around before zeroing in on my bruised face. “You were hit.”
“By Velma’s broom. There’s even a police report.”
“Okay, so let’s pretend I believe that, I still can’t accept this life is the best you can do, Xenia. You were the one keeping our parents’ restaurants afloat for the last decade. They’d completely lost their way. Tony and I both know you’re talented.”
Quana exhales slowly. “I also know you’re lonely. And this man is probably making you feel special. Because you are. Especially around here. But New York is full of men who will see what this biker does. And none of them will come with rap sheets.”
My brain zeroes in on her words. Not the ones about Hobo being a criminal. My sister is far too shallow to understand a man as complex as him.
No, I focus on the part where Quana and her husband have spoken about my talents.
Her concern and praise might be meant to lure me to New York City, so I’ll keep her empire afloat while she takes time for herself. My sister used to say she planned to travel more after her kids were out of college. My youngest nephew just graduated. Is that the real reason she came here?
I don’t have a chance to ask. An approaching truck leaves me panicked. As I hear it park in front of the shop, I tug Quana until we’re nearly in the tiny kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” my sister asks. “Is it your biker?”
“There’s trouble in town.”
I hear what sounds like a tornado warning siren rev up in the distance. Before I can register its meaning, the driver of the truck knocks and presses his face against the glass.
“Xenia, I know you’re in there,” Glenn says, and I exhale with relief. “Open up.”
I hurry over to let him inside. The man might be seventy and a little eccentric with his UFO hunting habit, but he looks impressively in charge as he steps inside the shop and locks the door. His usual pistol hangs from his hip, and a rifle is strapped across his back.
“The club’s under attack,” Glenn tells me while his brown eyes study the quiet road. “I’m supposed to bring you to the hospital.”
My body turns to ice. I can’t breathe. Refusing to ask questions, I’m too terrified of the answers.
Seeing me freeze up, Quana hurries over to handle my problems. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”
“Shop’s closing, lady,” Glenn says and gestures toward me. “Xenia, you need to focus now. Get your purse and follow me to the hospital.”
“She isn’t going anywhere,” Quana mutters and takes my hand. “Except to New York with me.”
I want to be angry with my sister. Or smug about how she needs me. Or annoyed by how she thinks I can be conned in to ditching my future while she enjoys life.
But none of those feelings are possible when my heart is frozen with fear.
“Hobo?” I whisper to Glenn.
