Dungeon Bringer 3
Page 32
He watched as the smile dimmed on her face. Her eyes went far away, and a hush filled the coffee shop. A car outside honked a horn and another car roared past on the street.
What was that look about? Why wasn’t she saying anything? Steven had no idea. There was no way he could ask. He got the mop wet, swirled it into the wringer, drove the handle hard to wring it out, and then started on the floor behind the coffee bar. He’d been so stupid to open up like that. She must think he was such a moron.
He concentrated on wiping away the coffee grime and footprints from the day. In a few short hours he’d be twenty years old officially. According to his mom, he’d been born at exactly 6:16 a.m. But then, sometimes his mom said she’d brought him home at 6:16 a.m. His mom was a bit spacy even on her best days, so he had no idea what time he’d been born. And it was odd how she talked about it. Spacy and odd, that was his mother.
Why wasn’t Tessa saying anything? Finally, he had to break the silence. “You know, today is my birthday. And maybe the big grand something that is going to happen will happen because of my superior mopping skills.”
“You do mop well,” Tessa finally said.
He risked glancing at her face. Instead of a smirk or sneer or any kind of disgust, he saw tears sparkling in her eyes.
Damn. Her silence was one thing, but tears were a whole other animal, a species he had no idea how to handle. It was time to try and back out of the trouble he’d got himself into. “Well, Tessa, you know, I bet most people think that they’re special. Isn’t that the point of humanitarianism? We’re all special humans living special lives, when in fact we’re just ants.”
Tessa jumped off the counter, landing her trendy knee-high boots squarely onto the area he’d just mopped.
“Don’t,” she said viciously. “Don’t do that.” She grabbed his arm.
He found himself staring into her face. “Don’t mop? You know, Mr. Slocum pays the Broadway Cleaners Incorporated like five hundred dollars a week to keep his coffee shop. Not to brag, but I get like five percent of that. A night. Cha-ching.”
Tessa didn’t smile, and those tears never left her eyes. “Don’t do that either,” she said. “Don’t shit on your truth by avoiding it or by trying to be funny.”
“Trying and failing,” Steven murmured. “Obviously.”
Tessa must’ve realized she had lost control of herself because she let go of his arm and stepped back. “Maybe we’re all ants. Maybe nothing matters. But Steven, you work your ass off. You’ll get home around two, but you have your cafeteria job at nine. You do that, then ace your classes, before you go to the library.”
It was a shock that she knew his schedule as well as she did. Steven wisely stayed quiet.
She kept on talking, passion in her voice. “You’re at least trying to make something of yourself. Me? I have this crappy job, and I write my crappy poetry and practice my crappy calligraphy, and that’s my life. That’s probably going to be my life for the duration. And yet ...” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve felt it too. On some nights, when I’m alone in my room, I know that someday, I’m going to rise above all this. For me, though, it’s wishful thinking ... For you ...”
Steven couldn’t stare into her eyes. They were too intense, too pretty. He slopped the mop back into the bucket.
“You’re doing stuff to make your dreams come true,” Tessa finished. “Unlike me.”
“Give me a break, Tessa. You go out. You have boyfriends and girlfriends and you go dancing and you take care of your brother and you do stuff too. Yeah, I’m going to college, but you could too. I could help—”
Tessa flung out a hand. “It’s all so empty, all that sex, and the newness wears off, and I’m with some hipster and his beard and there’s nothing there. Yes, I have friends, and I love my family, especially my brother, but if some great thing is going to happen to us, we’re going to have to work for it. You’re doing that.” She paused. “I’m not.”
For a second, Steven thought about trying to argue against everything she’d just said. He thought about telling her he’d been in love with her for months. But then, he knew the friend zone well. And with someone like Tessa? It wasn’t just a zone, it was a dungeon, and she’d thrown him into the friend dungeon long ago and thrown away the key. No way would she ever go for him.
Yet, she knew his schedule. She admired him for some strange reason even though he let Bud walk all over him. Could he escape the dungeon and into her heart?
He was about to say something when a guy in a lizard mask covering his entire head charged through the front door. In his hand was a black pistol.
Fuck! Bud hadn’t locked the front door on his way out.
“Take the cash!” Tessa yelped in fear.
No, this guy hadn’t just busted in to rob the place. Something about him, something about the way he moved, how he held the gun, and how his weird red eyes fixed on Steven said that he hadn’t come for the money.
He raised the gun. He didn’t aim for Steven, though. He fired at Tessa.
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Copyright
Dungeon Bringer 3 is a work of fiction. Names, character
s, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by James A. Hunter and Shadow Alley Press, Inc.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the publisher, subject line “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.
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About the Author
Nick Harrow is a former game designer and gold miner who now spends his days telling stories about daring men, dangerous women, and devilish villains.
You can find him at www.nickharrow.com, where he tells frequent fibs to keep his editor happy. For free stories, book previews, and other tasty tidbits, visit www.nickharrow.com/tastybits
Read more at Nick Harrow’s site.
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