I can't help but smile as I survey the cozy little shop. Aside from the clean, polished, state-of-the-art espresso and coffee machines behind the counter, the rest of the shop looks as if it's been untouched by time. A worn, wood-framed sofa and two leather armchairs make up one part of the seating area, while the other section contains mismatched cafe tables and chairs. A man sits in one of the leather chairs, absently stirring a steaming cup of coffee in an oversized mug while he flips through a magazine, his eyes flicking up to meet mine before returning to his reading. And though I can only see his eyes and part of his face, he reminds me of the man I kept running into back in Austin. First as a rideshare driver. Then at the craft tea shop. And now here. Is he following me? I sneak a glance in his direction again, but his face is now completely obscured by the newspaper.
Coincidence. It's got to be a coincidence.
I quickly forget my stalker as a fleeting feeling of deja vu washes over me, leaving me confused and somewhat disoriented.
"You know, this is going to sound crazy, but I swear I've been here before. This place feels so familiar to me," I say, noting the soft creak of the floors beneath my feet as I move behind the counter with Esmeralda to survey my new workspace. She starts to busy herself opening bags of coffee. "I'm pretty sure my mother brought me here once when I was a kid."
Esmeralda's head jerks up in surprise, and she looks at me for a moment, her eyes wide, before a faint smile crosses her lips. "Well, we do have a fantastic selection of children's books," she says cheerfully.
There's something else on her mind, though. Behind that cheerful exterior, she's distracted. Flustered. I start to ask her if everything is okay, when her shaky hand knocks against the freshly opened bag of coffee beans, scattering them all over the counter.
"Damn my clumsiness," she curses through clenched teeth as she makes a move to clean up the beans.
"Let me help," I offer as I swipe my forearm across the counter, scooping a handful of beans into the trash.
Her face has gone totally white, and for a second I wonder if she's just fallen ill and needs medical attention. But after a few moments she straightens and seems normal again.
"Are you okay?" I ask with some hesitation.
"Fine, my dear. I just… I'm fine."
Something strange is going on around here, but I decide not to press the issue on my very first day.
"I'll be honest. I've never worked in food service before," I say, still feeling a bit uncomfortable with Esmeralda's strange behavior, but wanting to change the subject. "I know absolutely nothing about working in a cafe."
"What's to know, my dear? The items you see in the display case here are baked by a local bakery across town who delivers them to us every morning. And aside from learning the ins and outs of the espresso machine here, there isn't much to know. Besides, the other barista, Megan, can help you out. She isn't in yet, but I expect her any minute now."
"Is this thing hard to operate?" I say, pointing toward the sleek, vintage-looking espresso machine.
"Oh, no, dear," says Esmeralda as she pulls out a tiny espresso cup and gets to work.
I'm not sure exactly what we're looking at, but there are dials and gauges on this thing that I've never seen before in my life. I had no idea espresso was such an art. Esmeralda pulls a shot of espresso and then tilts her head back and drains the cup as if taking a shot of whiskey. I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.
"Okay, your turn," she says, slamming the empty cup down on the polished wood counter. She moves out of the way so that I have full access to the machine.
"No way." I hold my hands up defensively and take a step back. "This thing looks sturdy and all, but trust me, I will find a way to break it. Let me see you make another one."
"Oh, come on," Esmeralda says, nudging me. "If an old lady like me can figure it out, then so can you."
I take a deep breath and try to replicate what Esmeralda has just done. There is something oddly satisfying about watching my very first espresso drain into its tiny little cup, and I am utterly transfixed by it.
"Admiring the espresso, are we ladies?" says a male voice, heavily laced with a Spanish accent.
I give a startled jump, while Esmeralda merely lifts her head. "Oh," she says with a whoop of laughter. "Alfonso. Don't mind me. I'm here showing my new barista how to operate the espresso machine."
Oh, Sweet Jesus, if that isn't Alfonso Renault.
Alfonso Renault is one of the biggest names in Hollywood right now. Esmeralda was right. I haven't been here more than ten minutes and I've already had a celebrity sighting. I can't wait to tell Greg.
"I see. And how is that going?"
I feel my face reddening for some reason and mentally blame it on the steam from the machine. But I know better. Attractive men make me feel flustered. I bite my lower lip and slowly raise my eyes until I am face-to-face with the biggest actor in Hollywood.
He swipes a hand through his thick, perfectly tousled hair before removing his trendy aviator sunglasses. For a moment I think my knees are about to buckle.
"And you are?" he purrs, his voice seductively smooth.
"Y-Yes, um." I stick my hand out in introduction. "I'm Sophia." For some reason, I turn to Esmeralda, hoping she'll save me from my own awkwardness.
She doesn't pick up what I'm throwing down, and instead scurries out of the way and busies herself at the counter right behind me, and while I really respect her attention to the fact that I am a woman who would probably like to have a moment alone with Alfonso Renault, I really wish she'd come back and stand beside me. I don't need a moment alone with Alfonso Renault.
Alfonso smiles a slow, calculating grin.
"Well, Sophia." He reaches across the bar for the espresso I've just made. "It's nice to meet you."
Much to my surprise, Alfonso takes the little cup of espresso I've just made and takes a long, drawn-out sip. He closes his eyes as if to magnify his espresso-drinking experience, holding the warm beverage in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it. I hold my breath, hoping, praying for his approval.
"It's my first cup," I say shyly. "I'm sorry if it tastes—"
"Wonderful," he says softly.
There is a devilish look in his eyes that isn't all that different from the devilish look that flashes in Chris's eyes from time to time.
Chris. You're with Chris now.
Alfonso's eyes lock with mine. "Ez, my usual, please. Only today, make it dirty," he says, reaching for my hand and pressing his thumb against my knuckles. I look behind me and try to make eye contact with Esmeralda, but she only nods to Alfonso and reaches for the container of chai tea mix. She seems completely oblivious to what’s happening between Alfonso and me. Or she’s just ignoring it "I really do hope to see you soon, Sophia,” Alfonso says in a low voice.
"You will," I croak, almost too eagerly. "I mean, I work here. I think."
Feeling my face flaming with embarrassment again, I quickly look away from him, pretending to be occupied with a speck of something on the counter. Someone else walks up to the bar. I look up slowly as I begin to regain my composure, and my eyes lock onto Chris's icy, chiseled face. He's holding a takeout bag of what looks and smells like Thai food, and he seems pissed.
"Oh my God. Chris. This so isn't—"
"Like hell, it isn't."
I try to mask my confusion with the most cheerful smile I can possibly muster as I come around the bar and take off my apron. "Chris, er, -toph, Dr. von Drauchenberg, what a pleasant surprise." I realize I have no idea what I'm supposed to be calling him when we're in the public eye. I turn to Esmeralda. "Dr. von Drauchenberg is a… family friend. Yes, a family friend, and he's just helping me with some… violin lessons while I'm home. It's so good to see you." I flash him another brilliant smile.
I'm not sure if this situation can be any more obvious. This whole playing-teacher-and-student thing is never going to work.
"Yes, my dear. I know all about family friends
." She gives me a knowing look before turning her gaze on Chris. She glides over to hug him. "Nice to see you again Christoph," she says, kissing him on both cheeks.
"Oh, I didn't realize… You already… Okay, so you already know each other, apparently."
They exchange brief and polite pleasantries, but the pulsing in Chris's jaw suggests his attention is elsewhere.
"I was in the neighborhood," he says with a tight, bitter smile. "So I brought you lunch." He lifts the bag to the counter and drops it with a bit of dramatic flair.
"Oh, yes," I fumble. "Thank you."
I turn to give Chris a kiss, but he only turns on his heel and stalks away, hands clenched at his sides. So I stand there instead, my face burning with embarrassment. Alfonso slinks to the end of the coffee bar, sliding his dirty chai with him. He watches me with a satisfied grin that I pretend I don't notice.
"Well, that went well," I whisper to myself.
Another girl joins me behind the bar, watching me with obvious curiosity.
"Hey, Megan." Esmeralda gives her a quick wave of acknowledgement, not taking her eyes from my face.
Esmeralda steps forward, linking her arm through mine and giving me a knowing look, as if she knows exactly what is going on between me and Chris, right down to its supernatural core. "Come, my dear. I think it's time for a break."
I sit in the small break room waiting for Esmeralda to prepare the salad she has brought to the counter. I watch her as she quickly mixes and tosses, mixes and tosses, until she finally has the salad to her liking. She hadn't been interested in sharing my Thai food with me, explaining that the grease upsets her sensitive stomach.
"It's a beauty, isn't it?" She holds the huge salad bowl out for me to see. "I've had a salad for lunch almost every day for the past fifteen years," she boasts. "Keeps me young."
She does have the art of salad preparation down to a science, and it is a gorgeous salad, but I prefer the greasy Thai food Chris has brought me. It's too bad that food is the last thing on my mind.
"Listen, Esmeralda, I want to apologize for what happened out there. Alfonso was flirting with me… and then Christoph came in… He's good at coming in like that. Anyway, I was distracted a little, and I don't think I gave the other customers the attention they deserved. It was unprofessional, and I will totally understand if you've changed your mind about having me here."
Esmeralda blinks a couple of times and then lets out a hoot of laughter. "Oh, my dear. That was the most excitement this store's seen all year." I gape at her. "Did you see the way those two stared each other down? My goodness. The two most arrogant men in L.A. about to face off with each other over you." She slaps a hand down on the table. "Damn funny if you ask me. Especially since Christoph could probably tear Alfonso to pieces. And that probably would not be a good thing. Hollywood would miss its darling."
I feel the blood drain from my face. "Uh, why do you say that exactly? About Christoph?"
I am really not very good at playing dumb.
"Oh, my dear," she says, still laughing. "Your secrets are safe here."
"Secrets?"
How would she possibly know anything about me or my secrets?
She pats my hand and gives me a stern look, the laughter gone from her eyes.
"I-I… I'm not sure what to say," I stammer.
"There's a reason you came into my store today. You're looking for more than just a job, aren't you? You want answers."
"Answers to?"
"Why, your existence, of course." She laughs at my surprised expression, as if it's all so simple. "Come now, my dear. It was written all over your face the moment you walked in here. Hell, I could hear it in your voice on the phone."
Esmeralda studies me for a moment, but I am at a loss for words.
"I suppose it is time for you to have it," she says with a sigh as she holds up a finger. "Stay here. I'll be right back."
After a swift exit out a side door, Esmeralda returns a few moments later carrying an old leather-bound book, which she hands to me.
My God, if that isn't…
"What is it?" I turn the book over in my hands, searching for the title, but there isn't one. I know there isn't one.
You know damn well what it is.
I carefully lift the cover so as not to damage the worn, handwritten pages. A title scrawled in neat cursive on the inside practically jumps off the page to slap me in the face. I slam the book shut and shove it across the table as if it's a grenade about to go off.
"Why would you give me that?" I demand, leaping to my feet.
"Because you've been looking for it. Just like it's been looking for you. That's why. Now sit down and eat your lunch, child. My word."
I'll admit, I wanted to find it. It's been the source of my mother's paranoia and the reason for her life's painful deterioration. And it could very well hold the answers to my own existence. But now that I have it, I'm not sure what to do with it. And Esmeralda has just presented it to me as if it’s this month's book club selection.
"I-I don't… I don't want it," I say.
Esmeralda gives me a warning look, like a doting grandmother who isn't above spanking her own grandkids. Finally, with a sigh of defeat, I plop back into my seat.
"What do you know? About all of this?" I mumble as I stab a piece of chicken with my fork. For once, I can honestly say that I'm not at all hungry.
"Well, I know you have a lovesick vampire who's willing to sacrifice himself to keep you and your existence hidden. And bring you lunch." She nods toward my Thai food. "And I'd be willing to bet that the woman… the Changeling referenced so many times in that book you so viciously hurled across the room, is you. What you do next is up to you, and only you can make that choice."
"How did you get it?" I ask bluntly, not looking up from my half-eaten plate of noodles. "The book was supposedly destroyed when my mother realized how dangerous it was. After it destroyed her."
"It was given to me for safekeeping." She pauses for a moment, lost in thought. "A lot of things are given to me for safekeeping. Anyway, I was to keep it until the time was right. Until you came looking for it. When you were ready."
My mind races. This is all happening too fast. My mother warned me about the dangers of curiosity. About the risk in seeking answers. Yet she seemed to know I would connect with the book anyway. It doesn't make sense.
"So I have been here before, then," I mutter. "I did come here with my mother, didn't I?"
I push my plate away, my appetite now completely gone. If something led me here, it wasn't consciously.
"Contrary to what you might think, I really did come here because I wanted a job. Something to pass the time where I could earn some extra money while Chris is recording in the studio."
"It led you here," she says, matter-of-factly. "The book is what brought you here."
"What is in that book that is so scandalous and terrible to have destroyed my mother's life and put mine in danger?" I ask, angrily folding my arms over my stomach in an attempt to keep the butterflies at bay.
"The only way you're going to know, Sophia, is to read it for yourself."
"And what will happen to me if I do?"
Esmeralda straightens. "Well, we won't know until you read it, my dear. Maybe you just might save the world." She gives me a triumphant smile.
"No pressure," I mutter. "And what am I supposed to tell Chris?" I whisper. "He can't know about this. At all."
"You tell him nothing," she says with finality. "And neither will I."
I give her a nervous grin. She makes this all sound so simple. "But, besides the fact that it's a lot harder to keep a secret from a vampire than you might think, it's just not that easy." I look down at my hands, which are now clenched tightly in my lap. "You see…"
"You love him, don't you?" She gives me a look of complete understanding. "Christoph?"
My, but Esmeralda Doran is a perceptive non-Fae human.
"I do. That's why this is so hard. The timing couldn'
t be worse. I used to want to escape. To fly away. Now, all I want is to stay right here. My feet planted firmly on the ground. Next to Chris. Fighting our battles together. And I have a feeling that once I open…" I trail off as I nod toward the book.
"You are not meant to fight your battles with Christoph," she says, a strange note of warning in her voice. "The Unseelie want you dead. And before long, they will go after your friends. Your colleagues. Everything that is important to you. Until you finally break." She reaches for the journal and slides it back down the table until it's in front of me again. "Your path is in there. Written in those pages. By the one person who controls it."
"Oh good. Another supernatural man in control of my life." I blow a loud sigh past my lips. "How do you know so much about this?"
She gives me a long, drawn-out shrug of the shoulders. "I've been around a very long time, my dear." She stands and begins to clear the table. "You can read it in the safety of my office. Away from nosy vampires and Unseelie who wish to kill you."
"Great," I mutter, glancing down at the book's tattered cover. For something so important, it sure is in bad shape. "You're really selling this thing, you know?"
She gives me a full grin and shrugs innocently.
"Well. If you can, try to put all of this aside for the time being. Rome wasn't built in a day, after all." She pats my arm. "Let's get back to work. That espresso won't make itself." She leans in closer to me. "Though, for the price of that silly machine, it should make itself."
She cackles with laughter, apparently not wanting to talk any longer about my destiny. She carefully picks up the journal and takes it back to wherever she was keeping it. I bundle the rest of my lunch back into its box and set it in the fridge before following her back out into the store, forcing my everything-is-normal mask down over my face.
After poring over the pages in the journal for a good week and a half now, I'm finding sleep impossible to come by. Chris is a fantastic distraction, but he's not here tonight. The bed feels enormous without him in it, and the thought of him attending to his vampire business, as he calls it, makes me feel uneasy. I knew what I was getting into with him. At least, I think I did. But we live two completely different lives that are now fully intertwined. I've got to get used to the fact that my new boyfriend is not technically flesh and blood, and does not have the same sleep requirements as I do. It's silly of me to expect him to sleep in the bed with me every night and keep the same human rituals that I'm used to. The problem is that he has time on his side. I do not. Things are changing. I am changing. And I want him here with me for as long as I can have him.
Bloodbound Nocturne (The Sophia Kelly Chronicles Book 1) Page 19