by Rebecca Shea
“Everything okay?” I ask him.
“Yeah. He just wanted to chat about some things.” He offers me a reassuring smile, but his eyes search the people gathered around us. “Let’s go. Rosa will have brunch waiting for us.” He laces his fingers through mine and guides me back toward the condo.
“So, you’re pretty close to Father Mark?”
“I am. He baptized me as a baby and has given me all my sacraments since.” Sacraments? I’ll ask him later what that means as I have a more pressing thing nagging me. “I was surprised when he said you had mentioned me.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. Part of my penance is to do good for strangers. I mentioned that you had moved in.”
“Ah, see… I’m just a stranger and a good deed.” I nudge him with my shoulder, but my heart hurts at this reference.
“You were,” he admits softly, something deeper in his tone. “You’re more than that now, Em. Funny how that works.”
I’m not sure what he means, but I’m afraid if I ask him to clarify that I won’t like the answer, so I remain quiet and don’t push the conversation any further. Along the way, he points out things of interest—an outdoor air mall, a salon, a small city park, and two college campuses; all tucked together within a few-block radius. I never realized how beautiful and clean downtown Phoenix was until just now.
The condo smells amazing when we return, and it’s amazing how at home I feel here now. For the short time I’ve been here, this feels like home, as scared as that thought still makes me.
I can hear Rosa in the kitchen, humming, and the sounds of pots and pans moving about the stove. She’s not quiet, but she knows how to cook better than anyone I’ve ever met.
“Good morning, Rosa!” Alex says loudly as we come into the kitchen.
Rosa looks up and smiles at Alex. “Mijo, mija. How was church? Did you pray for me?”
“I did, Rosa.” He kisses her sweetly on the cheek.
She laughs and smacks his arm playfully. I love how they are with each other. It says a lot about a man, the way he is with his mother. And even though Alex’s mother is gone, Rosa is somewhat a replacement, a surrogate, in a way.
“Brunch is ready. I’m going to take off.” Rosa continues fluttering about. “Just leave the dishes in the sink, and I’ll take care of them when I get back in a few hours.”
“Thank you, Rosa. It looks amazing.”
“You’re welcome. Eat!” She pinches my hip and scoots around me. Pulling her purse off the counter, she disappears down the hall, and I hear the door close behind her.
Alex begins taking out plates and silverware. “Do you want to eat in the dining room, or in here?”
“Here.” I pat the island. “No need to move everything to the other room.”
There’s a giant bowl of fresh cut fruit, scrambled eggs, bacon, and Belgian waffles.
“Rosa must really like you; she doesn’t cook like this for me.” He winks at me.
“Whatever.” I chuckle. “She treats you like a spoiled little brat,” I tease him as I plate up a waffle and fruit.
“She should. I pay her a small fortune.”
“Have you always had someone cook and clean for you?” I ask, curious.
He thinks for a moment, scooping eggs onto his plate. “Not always. I mean, when my mom was alive, she did all of that. Then, after she died and my dad was building his business, we had someone. She was kind of a nanny, a housekeeper, and a cook all rolled into one. She basically raised me.”
“What happened to her?”
“What do you mean?” He gives me side eyes.
“Where is she now?”
“Oh, she moved back to Mexico. Her mother lived there, and when I graduated from high school, she moved back to take care of her. I think my dad still talks to her now and then.” He shrugs. “So, after I graduated from college and bought this place, I needed someone to help me stay on top of everything, and that’s when I found Rosa.”
“I really like her. She’s spunky.” She’s full of energy and wit, and I find myself smiling every time I’m around her.
He laughed softly. “That’s a word you don’t hear every day, but yeah, she’s pretty amazing.”
“So, what did you get your degree in?” I ask as I smother my waffle in syrup. Undeniably the best part of this entire breakfast is the thick, sweet maple syrup.
“Business with a focus in accounting. I’m a numbers guy.” He smirks. “What about you? Did you ever go to college?”
“I took a few classes at the local community college, but then took some time off to work more. We needed the money more than I needed to take classes.” I long for the day I’ll be able to go back to school and finish my degree. But when you’re faced with keeping a roof over your head and food on the table, making money is your priority.
“Have you thought about going back?” he asks, pouring us both a glass of orange juice.
“I have. I’ll probably look into it once I can save up some money and figure out where I’m going to settle.” I smile.
Something flashes in his eyes, but I can’t tell what. “You don’t think you’ll stay here?”
“I don’t know. Not sure there’s a reason to,” I admit honestly. It’s not like I’ve thought through leaving here, leaving him—whatever this is between us.
He takes a bite of his eggs, a sip of his orange juice, another bite of eggs, and he chews slowly. Finally, he asks me, “Where would you go?” His voice is quiet, as if he didn’t really want to ask the question and doesn’t want the answer.
“I’ve always dreamed of the Pacific Ocean. Maybe Oregon, in a small little town that sits on the edge of the ocean where I can walk the beach and breathe the cool air deep into my lungs.” I smile at the thought. It’s a beautiful picture, even if it never happens.
“Sounds nice,” he says somberly.
“What about you? Ever think of leaving this place?” I wonder if he’d ever leave the only place he’s ever called home.
“What, Arizona? Nah. The business is here. Really can’t go anywhere else.” Despite his words, I see his eyes spark with longing. The mood in the kitchen has suddenly shifted, and we both push the food around our plates. “But Oregon sounds really nice. I bet you’d love it there.” He stands up abruptly and carries his plate to the sink. “I’ll be in the office.”
“Okay. I’m just going to clean up in here.”
He nods at me and starts toward the office, then he stops. “Hey, Em?” My eyes meet his, and his smile is sincere. Somewhat sad, but sincere. “Oregon sounds amazing. If you ever get the chance, go.”
I TWIST MY long, light brown hair into a messy bun and quickly run some lipstick over my lips. One last glance in the mirror, and I grab my wallet and phone off my nightstand. The house is still quiet, and I wonder what I’ve said or done to make Alex upset with me. He left brunch abruptly yesterday morning, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.
It’s early, but Megan wants me there for the morning rush, so I scurry through the streets alongside the businessmen and women bustling to their jobs. As I push through the glass doors, Jax is wiping down a table.
“Good morning,” I say with a big smile. It may sound weird, but I’m excited for today. Working has always been a source of pride for me, and I love staying busy.
“Morning, Emilia.”
My name catches Megan’s attention behind the counter, and she waves me over. “Ready for your first day?”
“I am. I’m excited.” My clenching and unclenching hands prove it.
“Good. Let’s get you settled.” She shows me where I can put my wallet and phone under the counter, then she hands me a tan apron that has “Café Au Lait” printed across the front with a cup of cappuccino underneath it.
“This morning, just to get us through the rush, I’m going to have you plate or bag the baked goods and get any drip coffee that customers order. After the morning rush, I’ll show you how to work the espresso machine and how we make some
of our specialty coffees. Jax will handle ringing them up and any cold drink orders. We do have some iced teas and frappuccinos. Does that sound okay?”
I nod, pleased. “Sounds perfect.”
“Good. I’m really excited you’re working with us, Emilia. Brace yourself; it’s about to get crazy.” She laughs just as the front door opens and people start shuffling in.
The next three hours are non-stop madness. I restock the pastry case three different times, and Megan, Jax, and I actually work well together. I sneak out from behind the counter a couple times to wipe down tables and restock the bar with more sugar, creamer, and other condiments. Megan seems pleasantly surprised with my willingness to jump in and make sure things are taken care of.
As the morning rush finally diminishes, Jax and I do a more thorough cleaning of the seating areas.
“You did good this morning, sunshine,” he says.
“Sunshine?” I cock an eyebrow at him and laugh.
“Yeah, you’re always so happy, like the sunshine. It’s my name for you.”
“Well, thanks.” Even though I don’t know him well, the nickname warms me. “We’re a good team.”
“We are. It’s nice to have someone who’s on top of things. I can already tell Megan has a crush on you.” He winks at me.
“She does not,” I say laughingly.
“Em, not ‘that’ kind of crush.” He rolls his eyes as if I’m totally naïve. “You’re kick ass, and she’s happy.”
“Oh.” I laugh out loud. “So, are the mornings always this busy?”
“Always. It’ll quiet down now for a while. We get a few regulars that come in and do meetings, but it’ll pick back up again around lunchtime until three o’clock.”
“I kind of like when it’s busy,” I muse. “You don’t even realize how fast time goes by.”
He nods and whistles a tune to himself. “So, what’s your story? Where are you from? What made you want to work at Café Au Lait?”
Questions like these always fluster me. I’ve never been one to lie, but I’m not ready to lay my sorry life out for others to judge me. “I just moved here from Illinois. My dad lives here. We’re working at reestablishing a relationship.” I shrug, hoping that appeases him, even though it’s not true.
“Cool. So, you’re a student?”
“Not right now. I plan to get back to school once I get settled and save up some money. What about you?” I want to divert the conversation to him.
“Well, Megan’s my sister, and I help her run this place.”
“What? You and Megan are related?” My eyes must bulge in disbelief.
He laughs. “We are. She’s older and smarter and more gravitationally inclined to run a business. I’m younger and more carefree and don’t like long-term commitments.” He points to his curly hair that’s pulled back into a bun and the small gauges in his ears.
“No wonder I didn’t make the connection that you’re related,” I joke with him.
“Ah, I like your snark, sunshine.”
Megan spends some time showing me around the espresso machine, and I make a few practice drinks under her watchful eye. Jax promises to show me how to work the register tomorrow as we finish up the last of our prep work for the next shift. The day passes quickly, and I’m thankful and content at the same time. I expected to see Sam today, but he didn’t stop by. I chastise myself for feeling disappointed, but I was actually hoping to see him.
Hanging up my apron, I collect my wallet and phone from under the counter, then wave goodbye to Megan, who’s in the back room at a tiny desk, doing paperwork and placing orders.
“Thanks again for everything, Jax. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I wave to him as I step out into the late afternoon sun. Holy hell, it’s hot out here. I notice large clouds forming in the sky to the south over a large mountain range. As I walk the few blocks back to the condo, I keep an eye on the sky and the growing clouds. They’re beautiful and ominous, and I’m absolutely fascinated by them. My mom and I would spend hours watching out the small windows of our trailer the impending thunderstorms that would roll through White Lake each summer. Lost in my memories, I’m shocked to find myself at the entrance to Alex’s condo already.
“Hey, Fred!” I belt out as I walk past him and into a waiting elevator.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Adams,” I hear him reply as the doors to the elevator close behind me.
The condo is quiet. No sign of Rosa, but the bowl of fresh fruit and a freshly baked loaf of what looks like banana bread tells me she was here today.
“Rosa?” I holler, waiting for an answer that doesn’t come. “Alex?” Again, no response.
I pull out my cellphone and type out a quick message to Alex. Minutes pass and still no response. I stand in the living room at the floor-to-ceiling windows and watch the large storm clouds continue to build and move closer. The sky is getting dark, and it reminds me again of how the thunderstorms would roll into town back in Illinois.
I step out onto the patio and watch the shrubs and trees begin to whip violently in the wind. The hot air blasts against my face, and the smell of dust stings my nose. The city ten stories below comes to a standstill as the afternoon storm rolls in. Cars disappear from the streets as the heavy rain falls in buckets. I stand at the edge of the patio looking out, the mountains no longer visible against the grayish brown sky.
“Emilia,” Rosa yells from the patio door. “Get inside here before you get struck by lightning. What is wrong with you, mija?”
I push myself off the brick wall and head back into the house.
Rosa waits with her arms folded across her chest. “When did you get back?”
“Just a few minutes ago. I didn’t think you were here.”
“I had to run to the market.” She points to the grocery bags on the kitchen island.
“Do you want some help?” I ask as I begin nosing through the bags.
“I’d love that.” She perks up, the threat of getting struck by lightning forgotten, although it was nice to be thought of, to be warned. “I have to say, it’s nice to have a girl around here to talk to.”
“It’s nice for me too,” I say, pulling groceries from the reusable shopping bags and setting them on the counter as Rosa begins sorting and putting away. “Have you seen Alex today?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
She glances at me briefly, carrying an armful of fruits and vegetables to the fridge. “Emilia.” I love how my name rolls off her tongue with her thick Mexican accent. She clucks her tongue once in a motherly way. “It’s really none of my business, but I feel like I should let you know that it’s best not to ask questions about Alex’s business.”
“I didn’t ask about his business. I asked if you’d seen him today,” I say calmly. Why do people keep telling me this?
Rosa sighs. “Everything about that boy is his business. Here’s what I can say. He will disappear for hours, days, and sometimes even a week or two. It is expected of us to not ask questions and just carry on. There may be times we see things or hear things, and we cannot let on that we did. We must keep our heads down and our noses in our own business.”
I grit my teeth, growing irritable when she says, “He cares about you, though. If he’s going to be gone, I’m sure he’ll tell you.”
“I’m his roommate. He doesn’t have to tell me anything,” I say sarcastically, immediately feeling bad for my snarky tone.
“You’re more than a roommate. Don’t let these living ‘arrangements’ fool you,” Rosa informs me.
“What do you mean by that?” My heart beats rapidly as Rosa turns to me.
“He’s never let another woman stay in this house. In fact, very few women have spent more than an hour in this house.” She raises her eyebrows and shakes her head. “You are not just a roommate.”
“Then what am I?” It’s the question of the day, the week, the big, thought-eating question that has haunted me since I met him, really.
She shakes her head at me and blows
out a puff of air. “That’s for you two to discuss.”
Fine. Maybe we will. Because I’m tired of wondering.
With that decided, we finish unpacking the groceries in silence, and I go lie down for a bit while Rosa makes dinner. Before I fall asleep, I check my phone one last time in hopes that Alex responded. But he hasn’t.
ONE THING I’VE learned in this business is: trust no one. So, I shouldn’t be surprised when Saul rolls up on my stash house on Sunset Drive, and I see Manuel’s head inside the driver’s window of a blacked-out seven series BMW. None of my guys drive BMWs.
“Boss.” Saul jumps to attention when he sees what I’ve already noticed.
“Just keep driving. He doesn’t know this car; he won’t recognize us,” I advise Saul. “As we pass, take a good look and see if you can ID who he’s talking to.”
“Yes, sir.” Saul drives by, looking like he belongs in the neighborhood with his pickup truck, and I slouch back in my seat, hoping to go unnoticed. “I can’t be sure, boss, but it doesn’t look like anyone on our radar. Pretty sure they were black.”
“Fuck!” I yell and punch the dashboard of his new pickup truck.
“Want me to handle it?” He makes a right turn down another street.
“Pull over,” I grumble. I’m fucking pissed that Manuel could be compromising my business with a potential street gang.
Saul pulls over to the curb, and we sit quietly while I contemplate what to do. “Who do we have watching Sunset?” I run through the list of my men that are accounted for and working.
“It was Rico, but now it’s Manuel.”
“So, he’s alone?”
“Si. Rico is transferring goods today.” By “goods,” he means drugs, people—my business, my livelihood. Because I’m a fucking disgusting human being. I’m better than this, yet here I am.
“Okay. Turn around and go back.”
Saul flips the truck into drive and makes a sharp U-turn. The wind has picked up from the impending monsoon, and lightning flits across the dark sky as we turn back onto Sunset Drive and toward my stash house.