by Amy Braun
“May I sit?” he asked.
Oh God, his voice… could he get any hotter? His voice was deep and smooth, like velvet and chocolate and all things pleasurable.
I started nodding, and the motion seemed to help me get my cool back. “Yeah, yes, of course, anywhere you like.”
Mystery Man dipped his head politely and walked to one of the corner tables. It was technically in Carrie’s section, but she was in the back, and I was bored, and he was so hot, that I scurried to grab a handwritten menu off the first table I could and all but ran to him.
He sat with his back to the edge of the tent, allowing his eyes to trace over the restaurant like a hawk’s. That’s what he reminded me of. A predator. Dangerous and beautiful, a born heartbreaker. I mean, he was breaking my heart, and I didn’t even know him.
I held the menu out to him, which he accepted with another one of those small smiles and an incline of his head. I was genuinely distraught when he lowered his eyes to the menu, because his irises weren’t one shade of blue. They were bright baby blue around the pupils, while the edge near the whites was a sparkling sapphire. The kind of eyes girls like me are helpless against.
“What can I get you?” I blurted.
Mystery Man lifted his eyes. Holy crap. When did it so hot in here?
“I haven’t finished reading the menu yet,” he responded slyly. “Is there something you would recommend?”
Probably, but you need to give me a second to breathe.
“Well, it’s not on the menu, but Mikey and Maci make this mean coconut rice stir fry. I saw them making it earlier, so there should still be some leftover.” I replayed the words in my head, and backtracked immediately.
“I mean, it was made today, so it’s not really leftover, they just made too much.” I was talking way too fast. “The fries are really good, too. Salty but not greasy. I could eat three whole plates of them.”
I really needed to stop talking.
“I see,” Mystery Man remarked. He handed me back the menu. “I’ll have both.”
“Both?” I asked stupidly.
“The rice and the fries.”
“Really? Wow, you must be hungry.”
He smiled that charming smile again. “My work requires a significant amount of energy.”
I tilted my head, studying him. He was very well spoken, so I didn’t think he was a construction worker. Most doctors wore their scrubs, and he was too well built to be a teacher or a cook.
Plus, I didn’t get that vibe from him. He was something else.
“Are you part of the SPU?”
His smile slipped a little. Almost like he was confused. Maybe I’d spoken too fast. Probably.
“The Storm Protection Union,” I enunciated.
His smirk came back, a little more guarded than before. “A division of it, yes.”
I wanted to ask him more, like what kind of divisions the SPU had and which one he worked for. Honestly, I just wanted to keep talking to him. Cute guys barely even looked at me. This guy was a walking fantasy, and he was actually looking in my eyes when I spoke to him, as if he was interested in what I was saying.
No way I could be this lucky.
Better to play it cool, though. Last thing I wanted to do was creep Mystery Man out.
“That’s really impressive. And super brave.”
He did his smirk-slight-nod thing again. It might have been automatic for him, but I thought it was super sexy. Especially with that warm look in his blue, blue eyes.
“Okay, I’ll get this started for you. Can I get you something to drink? We’ve got filtered water and freshly squeezed orange juice if you don’t mind pulp.”
Mystery Man grimaced. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Water it is.”
His face relaxed. “Thank you, Ava.”
My heart skidded again. “How do you know my name?” And can you say it again?
His smile widened and he dropped his eyes to my chest, jutting his chin. I looked down, and felt like an idiot.
“Name tag. Right. At least I remembered to wear it today.”
This guy was making me a flustered mess, but I couldn’t be mad at him. Not when his smile was so open and inviting. I turned and left before I could make an even bigger fool of myself.
After I delivered the order, which made Carrie suspicious because it wasn’t often that we offered anything off menu, I hurried to the jugs of fresh water we kept under the table. I filled a glass and all but sprinted out of the kitchen to the restaurant.
Mystery Man was still sitting with his back to the corner. He was back in hawk-mode, looking left and right as if on the prowl for threats. He saw me making my way over and grinned at what was probably a goofy expression on my face.
My heart was beating a little too quickly, but I was working up the courage to at least ask his name. Even if I never saw him again, I didn’t want to let him leave as just a stranger. My luck was holding so far.
Then I handed him the glass, and our fingers touched.
And I got the biggest static shock of my life. It ran up my whole arm and snapped into my heart.
“Ow,” I grimaced. I pulled my hand back and shook it out. “Sorry, that was weird.”
I looked at Mystery Man and went still.
He’d gone as rigid as a statue, his eyes wide and a look of shock on his face. The glass of water remained in his outstretched hand, like he didn’t know he was holding it.
“Um, are you okay?”
He just stared at me, making me uncomfortable for the first time. Then he set the water glass down, and his glittering eyes sharpened like blades.
“Yes,” he said coldly. “I’m fine.”
I could have sworn there was a growl in his voice. It kind of scared me.
“Uh, well, your food will be here soon. Is there anything else I can get you?”
Good thing I said that all the time. Repetition might save me.
“No.”
Or not.
“Okay. I’m sorry.” Though I don’t know what I did.
Having no desire to aggravate him further– he looked like the kind of guy who was familiar with fistfights– I hurried over to the doctor. He thanked me and left, so I started cleaning his table.
More customers began to trickle in, and though I hurried to get them seated and take their orders, I felt Mystery Man’s eyes on me the whole time. I wanted to glance at him and see if he still had that angry look in his face, but I was too worried he did.
I shouldn’t have been scared. I should have given him some kind of attitude– Excuuuse me, I didn’t know you’d be cranky from a little static, which didn’t even mess up your perfect hair– but I wasn’t brave enough. If Piper had been here, I would have asked her. She wasn’t afraid to give anyone a piece of her mind.
But I wasn’t as strong as Piper. I wasn’t as brave.
Still, I’d taken his order, and now I had to serve him. I trudged back toward the kitchen and reached for the flap–
Carrie burst through with two plates in her hands. One with rice, another with fries.
“Uh, I think that’s my order,” I said.
“Oh yeah? Well, the stud over there is in my section, and it doesn’t look like he’s very happy with you.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, Mystery Man was glaring daggers at me. He hadn’t even touched his water. I winced and quickly looked away.
“That’s what I thought,” Carrie said snidely. “Why don’t you let the big girl handle the handsome man?”
I glared, but she brushed past me without second glance. I didn’t want to watch Carrie drape herself over Mystery Man, so I shuffled back into the kitchen to do menial work. Maci and Mikey noticed my mood swings, but said nothing, which I was grateful for.
It wasn’t long before the construction crew rush started, and I was forced to go back into the restaurant to wait tables. I made a point of not looking in the corner where Mystery Man was, yet I felt him watch my every movement.
&n
bsp; From the corner of my eye, I would catch his sharp, hawk gaze on me like I was the rabbit he wanted to devour. I was starting to think I should change his name from Mystery Man to Creepy Man.
Maybe Hot Creepy Man would be truer to his nature. Unfortunately, his bad attitude didn’t keep him from being physically stunning.
Carrie was relentless. Her fingers brushed his arm, his shoulders, the back of his neck. She tried to shove her boobs against his cheek more than once.
Mystery Man barely paid her a second glance, often leaning away when she got uncomfortably close. He ate mechanically and without a smile, focused on me the entire time.
Whoever said that women were more complicated and temperamental than men had clearly never met this guy.
I told myself I didn’t care; he would be gone soon and we would never cross paths again, so I shouldn’t have been concerned that Carrie was trying to get into his pants.
Then I saw her write on a napkin, press her lips to it, and slide it next to his plate. Though he didn’t look at the napkin once, Carrie considered this a victory. She put her hand on his far shoulder, then lightly dragged her nails across the expanse of his broad shoulders. Her fingers must have touched the skin at the back of his neck, because he shifted in his seat. Carrie laughed heartily and sashayed toward the kitchen. She caught my eye from across the restaurant, smiled wickedly, and winked before disappearing.
She winked at me. Winked. Like this was a damn game to her.
The rush was beginning to die down, so I cleaned the tables. I cleared aggressively, dumping the half-eaten food and empty paper plates into a garbage bag. I don’t know why I cared. Carrie was just being Carrie. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this.
But it had never happened to me.
Typical. The first guy to actually take interest me for five minutes until he got spooked by a static shock, and she throws herself at him like a pitcher throwing to a batter.
I kept telling myself it didn’t matter, that I was getting upset for no reason, that this kind of high school drama had no place in the world right now. Bigger picture. That’s what I should have been focusing on.
Yet I was shoving chairs back into place. I pushed garbage into a plastic, black chasm. I almost scrubbed the paint off the tables. My effort to erase the jealously and irrational anger from my heart. I finished one, moved onto the next, and slapped my hand into it too hard.
“Ow!” I barked.
Wind billowed through the back of the tent. It had steadily gotten windy over the course of the day, the walls of the tent swaying inward and outward, but this was stronger than before. A shriek came from the kitchen.
Alarmed and worried, I dropped the rag and ran to the kitchen to see what was wrong. I threw back the curtain, and a rush of heat flashed across my face. The fire from the barbecue had surged, almost two feet high. Mikey and Maci had backed up, shock and bewilderment clear on their faces. Carrie was freaking out in the corner, blubbering and shaking.
I snapped out of the shock first, turning to the table and grabbing the pitcher of water from the countertop. It was heavy, but I managed to throw all the water on the flames. They were quickly doused, replaced by smoke and a sharp sizzling sound. We all watched the barbecue like it was going to launch itself at us and seek revenge.
When nothing else happened, I slumped back against the edge of the counter. My heart was still beating at a rapid-fire pace, but I knew we were okay.
Just to confirm, I asked, “Is everyone okay? Did anyone get hurt?”
“No,” Mikey replied in a shaky voice. “No, I think we’re all fine.”
“What happened?”
“I have no idea. One minute the barbecue is fine, then this wind blows in and it’s a fucking Roman candle.” He winced and looked at me.” Sorry, Ava.”
I shrugged. People assumed that because I never really swore myself, I had some kind of aversion to it. Not true, I just saved it for special occasions. Kind of like chocolate– too much isn’t good, but in the right amounts, it was a real treat.
Maybe I was still in shock after all.
As I stood there staring at the smoking barbecue, I barely heard Mikey say they would need to tell the fire department there was no damage or Maci comforting Carrie, but I noticed the wind.
The complete lack of it.
Not even the breeze that had been building earlier could be felt. I looked up through the open framework of the roof, past the swirling grey smoke from the fire. Clouds were forming over the sky. Nothing unusual, and the clouds were harmless white puffs, but the sky had been clear this morning. I couldn’t help but feel like they were an omen of something to come.
“Ava?”
I brought my head down and looked at Mikey. “Can you go outside and make sure everyone knows things are okay back here?”
I grimaced. Last I checked– not that I had meant to– Mystery Man was the only person still in the restaurant. He’d passed the two hour mark.
But Carrie was having a meltdown, and Mikey and Maci were rattled. I gathered my pride, pasted on a smile, and walked out of the kitchen. I sucked in a breath to call at Mystery Man so I wouldn’t have to go near his table and see that dark, condemning look on his face.
But he was gone.
Though he had left a tip.
I walked to his table, where his food sat barely eaten. It didn’t look like he’d touched the water glass at all.
In the middle of the table was a long object bundled in grey cloth. Resting on top of it was the napkin Carrie had given him, flipped over to leave a message written in a manly scrawl:
Keep it. Protect yourself.
Okay… That wasn’t foreboding or anything.
Putting the note aside, I peeled back the cloth. Silver glinted into my eyes, and I stepped back.
A slender silver dagger with a navy blue hilt wrapped in black leather stared up at me. At the top of the hilt was a circular iron pommel. Printed inside it was a design– tear-shaped rain that circled a strong arm holding up a sword.
Breath tangled in my chest. I remembered the man in the hurricane, the one the Stormkind had been afraid of.
The man who stabbed me with a crystal blade.
I put my hands on the table and struggled to even my breathing. This wasn’t the same knife. I knew it wasn’t. This blade was iron. The one that scarred me was crystal, almost as alive as the Stormkind had been. I knew that. I knew it.
But I didn’t know how Mystery Man had gotten it, or why he left it with an ominous message. Maybe it wasn’t meant for me. Maybe he wanted to give it to Carrie.
Carrie, who he’d completely ignored.
No. This was for me, for reasons I could only guess at.
And I didn’t want it. Put a blade in your hand, and you’re asking for violence. Particularly if it was a dagger like this, something that was clearly pristine and valuable.
I could leave it in the trade box. I could give it to Mikey, who could trade it for a new barbecue if he couldn’t get the other one fixed. I could threaten to use it on Carrie’s hair the next time she tried to steal my tips.
Okay, that was a little aggressive. No reason to lower myself to her level.
Which left me with one option– buck up and take it. Technically, it was a gift, and the streets were a little more dangerous at night.
I closed the cloth bundle and tucked the dagger into the back of my belt, lifting my shirt over it so it was concealed. I would hand it over to one of the donation facilities. There were dozens of them on the way home. Someone else could use it for protection, because as far as I was concerned, I didn’t need to be protected.
Did I?
***
Whenever there was a crisis, no matter how minor, it had to be reported. Records of what was lost needed to be given to the Rations and Distributions Departments, which had been set up five years ago. They took note of what was lost, what was needed, and what could be spared.
The fire department confirmed that Mikey lo
st the barbecue. Since the Papaya Cantina was a highly popular source of food for the construction sites nearby, he’d get a new one tomorrow. He had to fill out forms for that. Maci had to fill out one as a witness, and I had to fill out another one as the person who took action to douse the fire.
It was all as pointless as it sounded, but having some semblance of order made us believe the state was getting back on track again. For now, all we had was a crumbled brick pile that used to be a bank.
By the time the interviews and forms were done, it was dark out. Mikey and Maci offered to walk me home, but Mikey had gotten some minor burns on his hands. I knew he was hurting, so I told him to go home and relax. Besides, Carrie had walked home, so I could too.
Granted, Carrie left before the firemen arrived, claiming emotional trauma, but it was all technicalities, really.
Though I still intended to donate the dagger Mystery Man left me, I was hesitant about making my journey home longer than I needed to. I only lived about ten blocks away, but when I’d walked home on previous nights, the streets had been alive and awake.
Now they looked desolate and creepy.
Sidewalks, once bathed in yellow light, were littered with uprooted lampposts and obstacles that would have tripped me end over end if I hadn’t had my flashlight. Late night shops and cafes were now crumpled shadows that surrounded me like slumbering monsters. Cold ocean water from last night’s minor flood splashed around my ankle boots– the sneakers had been done for– and salted the air. In the distance, I could hear echoing hoots and hollers, as if some kind of celebration was going on down the street.
Only there wasn’t. Those shouts were from gang members.
The idea that everyone would work together, no matter who they were or where they came from, was a nice thought. And that’s all it was– a thought. A wishful fantasy that we could put aside petty differences and help each other until the city was healed.
Gangs didn’t think that way. They saw brokenhearted, scared, desperate people, and knew exactly how to exploit them.
You were hungry? They would get you food, by stealing it from the Ration Depots or the restaurants. You were scared? They would protect you, as long as you were willing to give up something in return– food, water, clothes, and weapons were the least appalling favors. You were lost and alone? The gangs would take you in, give you a new family, provided you show them the fiercest loyalty and could survive a brutal beating.