Caution doesn’t go here anymore. Now, it’s all about finding a way to get her under me, even just once.
She walks toward me, stopping to the side of the table.
“Glad you showed up,” I tell her.
“There was coffee involved, and I only have the instant kind at my place.” She heaves in a sigh before plopping down in the chair.
“In that case, what can I get you?”
“Extra-large cold brew with three extra shorts. Add some vanilla syrup in there and a splash of milk.”
“You sure your heart isn’t going to explode after that?” I ask.
“Working nights is no joke. Some days are better than others, but most of the time, I’m not a functioning human without insane levels of caffeine.”
“Alright then. One cup of life, coming right up.” My eyes are still as big as saucers at hearing her order, but I’m not her parent, and if she wants to have a heart attack at the age of thirty-five, that’s her prerogative.
But it’d be a damn shame.
The judgement I receive from the barista as I order mirrors mine, but what the lady wants, the lady gets. I bring our drinks over and watch as she guzzles half of hers in one go.
“What are you drinking?” She nods to my drink.
“Ah, orange blossom tea.” My cheeks heat at the confession.
“Seriously?”
I nod. What else can I say? She’s downing enough caffeine to kill a horse, and I don’t drink coffee.
“You are quite the conundrum.” She hums.
“How so?” I ask, taking a sip of my tea.
“Tea while you work for the East Coast’s largest dealer seems a little … counterintuitive, no?”
“Maybe I’m trying to keep some balance in my life.”
Her smile grows as she leans back. “I don’t think I know what balance is.”
“What gave it away? The heart attack in a cup you’re sipping on?” I nod to her coffee.
“Insult my caffeine again, and we’re going to have huge problems. If you want a coherent conversation, this is how you get it done.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her eyes light up at my words.
So, she likes to be the one in charge. Interesting.
“Tell me about yourself, Chris.” Her right leg crosses over her left, bouncing to its own beat.
“What do you want to know?” I deflect.
“How’d you get in with Cano?” She goes straight for the jugular.
I clear my throat. “The usual story. One wrong decision changed things. I was strapped for money and thought it’d be a good idea to deal a little on the side. Just weed to start, but it grew. Eventually, I was making good money, and a traditional job didn’t seem like such a good idea. Then … I wanted more. I mean, you don’t live here and not know the Cano name, so I thought I’d try to get in with the best. It was the most logical step to make the most money.” I say it easily. The script I’ve had memorized for close to a year slides out of my mouth without any hesitation.
“Before you started all the stuff with Cano,” she asks carefully, “what was your dream job?”
