It would be easy for Cal to end up there.He took a drink of bitter coffee with a film of grease from the kitchen on the liquid and grimaced sourly at either the taste or the thought. There were only so many chances you could expect from life, and El had already gone above and beyond. In the end, though, he ran a business, and if Cal fucked it up for him, he’d have to let him go.
No one else was going to hire him. He was an ex-con who’dscraped resentfully—on his and the teachers’ parts—through school. He could go back to stealing cars, but…. Cal sat back and rubbed at his ribs. Habit made it easy to find the scar, even though the poke of his fingers didn’t make it ache anymore.
The waitress yawned her way over to the table with his breakfast, last night’s makeup still smudged in glittered lines around her eyes.
“Here you go,”she said as she slid the plate in front of him. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
She didn’t wait for an answer as she headed back to the counter and topped up her massive cup of coffee. Cal rubbed rusty-water spots off his knife and fork and cut into his eggs, the yellow yolk bright against the scraped white plate as it puddled under the bacon and beans.
Breakfast was free back at the hotel, but it wasalso muesli and yogurt with the occasional boiled egg. In Cal’s mood, a greasy fry-up sounded a lot better. It meant he didn’t have to see Joe or Kristen either. He broke a corner off his toast and sopped up the mixture of egg and tomato sauce. He took a bite, and then the bell over the door behind him jangled and the tired waitress looked up from her coffee.
“Sit anywhere,” she said. “I’ll bewith you in a minute.”
Heels clicked on the linoleum, and Kristen sat down opposite Cal. She put her bag on the table in front of her and crossed her hands over the top of it. Probably the best idea—the bag cost more than anything in the shop and the floor was sticky. She didn’t say anything as she studied his face with wide brown eyes that showed, despite skincare and artfully applied makeup,evidence of tears and sleepless nights.
Cal gave his mouthful of sodden bread a good-faith chew, quickly swallowed it, and washed it down with a gulp of coffee. He wiped his mouth on a napkin and glanced around to see if Joe was behind her.
“He’s in a meeting,” Kristen said. Her voice sounded measured and thoughtful, different when she wasn’t midrant. She glanced over at the waitress. “I’llhave a cup of tea, please? When you’re ready.”
The waitress grunted and pushed herself off the counter to grab an old, stained teapot from the shelf behind her. While she filled it, Cal wiped his fingers and waited for something other than an update on Joe’s day. He didn’t get it. They sat there awkwardly as his breakfast congealed until the waitress brought the tea.
“Do you want anything toeat?” she asked as she put the tea down in front of Kristen. A splash of it tipped over the side and puddled on the scratched Formica. The waitress pointed a chewed fingernail at Cal’s breakfast. “We do an English fry until ten.”
Kristen glanced down at the plate and wrinkled her nose. “No,” she said. “Just tea.”
The waitress gave a “no skin off my nose” twitch of her shoulders and left. Calglanced down at his plate, and his stomach rumbled. He shrugged to himself and dunked the toast back into the egg yolk. If Kristen wasn’t going to say anything, he might as well eat while he could.
The silent stalemate lasted two sips of Kristen’s tea—her stylishly plum lipstick bright against the china—and most of Cal’s bacon. He stabbed the last bit with his fork and Kristen finally broke thesilence.
“I think you should ask to be relieved,” she said. Her voice was calm and lightly dismissive, but color flushed over her cheekbones and spread out to her ears. It made her discreet diamond earrings look very dramatic. “Another driver can step in. It’s not exactly a skilled job.”
That was a relief. Animosity Cal could cope with. Tears he wasn’t sure. Reason would have worked, but nastylittle jabs rolled off him. He’d had plenty of practice over the years.
“I don’t work for you,” he pointed out before he shoved the forkful of bacon into his mouth.
Kristen tightened her hands on the bag. “If you onlyworkedfor him,” she said, precise and calm as her ears flushed redder. “I wouldn’t have a problem. It’s the fact you’re… obviously not up for the job.”
“Yeah?” Cal said as heleaned back in the narrow chair. He wiped his mouth on the napkin, crumpled it up, and tossed it onto the table. “I’ve never had any complaints before.”
She looked away from him. Her gaze fell on the homeless man across the street, and she frowned as though he’d ruined her view.
“You think you’re special, but you’re not. This is cold feet, about the wedding. Until this we were good together.Once he’s had time to think about this, he’ll come back to me.” She looked sharply back at Cal as she finished. “He always does.”
“That’s your business,” Cal told her. “Nothing to do with me.”
Kristen popped her bag open and reached inside. She pulled out a fat brown envelope and set it on the table between her bag and Cal’s plate.
“I’m not naïve,” she said. While she talked, Cal reached forthe envelope. “I know that Joe is bisexual. I know that he’s cheated on me. I know that he’s a liar.”
Cal paused, the flap of the envelope half-lifted as the crack of anger in the last word caught his attention. That had been the first thing the stalker accused Joe of, hadn’t it? That he was a liar. He stared at Kristen as she took a sip of tea to compose herself, and wondered if maybe that oldgit Edward had been right to suspect her.
The mug clicked as Kristen set it neatly back down in the ring it had already left on the table.
“I also know he loves me,” she said as she stubbornly lifted her chin. “People cheat. It doesn’t mean anything.Youdon’t mean anything. So… make this easier.”
There was enough cash stuffed in the envelope that Cal flinched at the idea Kristen that had walkeddown the street with it. King’s Cross was hardly a rough area, but she’d had enough money in her bag to make any commuter think about a quick side job.
“Not really my style,” Cal said. He ran his thumb over the edges of the crisp, straight-out-of-the-bank notes and wondered how many it would take to hire some angry kid with a flip knife. Two. Maybe one. She’d need someone like Edward tofindthem, but… there was always someone like Edward when you had money. “Did he ever tell you about his mum?”
