“Now you listen to me,” I began. “I don’t care if you think I’m my sister or that weasel who jacked up the price of anti-malarial drugs. I am a human being having a really bad day after the worst one of her life. I do not have it in me to stuff down these emotions today. So you’d better get out of my way and leave me alone, Viking.”
He looked downright bemused for a hot second.
I took that to mean it was coffee time. Side-stepping him, I picked up the cup, took a delicate sniff, and then shoved my face into the steaming hot life force.
I drank deeply, willing the caffeine to perform its miracles as flavors exploded on my tongue. I was pretty sure the inappropriate moan I heard came from my own mouth but I was too tired to care. When I finally lowered the cup and swiped the back of my hand over my mouth, the Viking was still standing there, staring at me.
Turning my back on him, I flashed my hero Justice a smile and slid my emergency coffee twenty dollar bill across the counter. “You, sir, are an artist. What do I owe you for the best latte I’ve ever had in my life?”
“Considering the morning you’re having, darlin’， it’s on the house,” he said, handing my license and cash back to me.
“You, my friend, are a true gentleman. Unlike some others.” I cast a glare over my shoulder to where the Viking was standing, legs braced, arms crossed. Taking another dive into my drink, I tucked the twenty into the tip jar. “Thank you for being nice to me on the worst day of my life.”
“Thought that day was yesterday,” the scowling behemoth butted in.
My sigh was weary as I slowly turned to face him. “That was before I met you. So I can officially say that as bad as yesterday was, today beat it out by a slim margin.” Once again, I turned back to Justice. “I’m sorry this jerk scared away all your customers. But I’ll be back for another one of these real soon.”
“Looking forward to it, Naomi,” he said with a wink.
I turned to leave and smacked right into a mile of grumpy man chest.
“Naomi?” he said.
“Go away.” It felt almost good to be rude for once in my life. To take a stand.
“Your name’s Naomi,” the Viking stated.
I was too busy trying to incinerate him with a glare of righteous anger to respond.
“Not Tina?” he pressed.
“They’re twins, man,” Justice said, the smile evident in his voice.
“Fuck me.” The Viking shoved a hand through his hair.
“I worry about your friend’s vision,” I said to Justice, pointing at the mug shot of Tina.
Tina had gone bleach blonde at some point in the past decade-plus, making our otherwise subtle differences even more obvious.
“I left my contacts at home,” he said.
“Next to your manners?” I quipped. The caffeine was hitting my bloodstream, making me unusually feisty.
He didn’t respond with anything other than a heated glare.
I sighed. “Get out of my way, Leif Erikson.”
“The name is Knox. And why are you here?”
What the hell kind of name was that? Was it a hard Knox life? Did he tell a lot of Knox Knox jokes? Was it short for something? Knoxwell? Knoxathan?
“That’s none of your business, Knox. Nothing I do or don’t do is your business. In fact, my existence is none of your business. Now, kindly get out of my way.”
I felt like screaming as loud as I could for as long as I could. But I’d tried that a couple of times in the car on the long drive here, and it hadn’t helped.
Thankfully, the beautiful oaf heaved an annoyed sigh and did the decent, life-preserving thing by getting out of my way. I swept out of the café and into the summer swelter with as much dignity as I could muster.
If Tina wanted to meet up with me, she could find me at the motel. I didn’t need to wait around and be accosted by strangers with the personalities of cacti.
I’d head back to my dingy room, take every last pin out of my hair, and shower until the hot water ran out. Then I’d figure out what to do next.
It was a solid plan. It was only missing one thing.
My car.
Oh no. My car and my purse.
The bike rack in front of the coffee shop was still there. The laundromat with its bright posters in the window was still across the street next to the mechanic’s garage.
But my car was not where I’d left it.
The parking spot I’d squeezed into in front of the pet shop was empty.
I looked up and down the block. But there was no sign of my trusty, dusty Volvo.