Hours passed fast because they were busy. The theater got out and customers poured in. Ridley was late. Tuttle didn’t leave. She didn’t want to walk home alone with Tuttle around, nor did she want to walk home by herself. She couldn’t stop her gaze from straying to the door every few minutes, but he didn’t come. For two weeks he’d followed her home every night. Two more weeks he’d walked her home every night. Now, the one night some creep was stalking her, he didn’t show.
The bar crowd came in. David and she raked in the money and the tip jar overflowed. Serious cash this time. She was happy to see that. She had been saving half her tips to pay back the cash she’d stolen from Rafe’s safe. Of course she couldn’t just walk up to him and give it to him, but she wanted to have it just in case he found her. Tonight’s take would definitely help her cause.
Tuttle got up and left when David shouted the ten minutes to closing and last call for coffee. Four customers came up to the counter. She made them drinks and watched as David escorted them to the door. He closed and locked it so they could clean and count up the night’s take.
Catarina kept an eye on the door. Ridley didn’t show, but she was certain Tuttle was out there. “David. That Tuttle person creeped me out. He stayed hours, but didn’t talk to anyone and only drank two coffees. He wasn’t reading books or listening to the poetry either. He left when you announced closing time, but that doesn’t mean he’s gone.”
“You want me to walk you home?” David asked immediately.
She shook her head. “No, but I’d like to leave out the back door. Before you leave out the front, can you give me a fifteen-minute head start? I can go through the back alley and come out down the block. It’s probably nothing, but I’d rather not take any chances.”
“He was watching you. After you asked me to get his name, I kept my eye on him,” David admitted. “He tried to be subtle about it, but even when he picked up the newspaper, he wasn’t reading it. He was looking at you over the top of it.”
“He’s probably harmless,” Catarina assured him. “But I really don’t want to find out. I’m tired tonight and the thought of having to kick his ass is too exhausting.”
David laughed. “The idea that you think you can is funny. Old Tuttle is pretty beefy. He’s got a hundred pounds on you, Cat, maybe more.”
She put her fists up. “I’m scrappy.”
He threw his head back and laughed louder. “Great. I’m all for you ducking out the back, although, if you’d rather, I could call a taxi.”
She shook her head. “Not necessary. I can make it home. Just give me my start.”
“You got it. Text me when you’re home safe.”
“David, how many times do I have to tell you, I don’t have a cell phone and I’m not getting one.”
“Oh. Yeah. I keep forgetting you’re living in the dark ages.”
Ridley had said the same thing and offered to get her a cell. She’d refused of course. Apparently no one really could exist without a phone. She managed quite nicely. Phones led to bills and bills were a paper trail. She didn’t want that.
When she’d first been hired at Poetry Slam, they were barely scraping by. Most days only a few customers came in regularly unless it was poetry night, then it got a little crowded. David couldn’t afford to pay her much so he’d paid her under the table. Once word got out that the new barista was very good at her job and customers began pouring in, David had offered her more money and the chance to go legit. She took the extra money but refused to go legit. No paper trails.
Catarina made her way to the back, David following her, the way they did each night to put the money and receipts in a safe until David could go to the bank. Catarina slipped out the back door. David waited in silence until she searched the alley to make certain no one was lurking there. She gave him the thumbs-up and began to jog back toward the warehouse district.
The alley went down two blocks and came out on a cross street. She didn’t make a sound as she moved, and she moved fast. She wanted to be almost home before David locked that front door. If Tuttle was waiting for her, she’d be in her house, locked up tight before he could find her. The danger, of course, was that he already knew where she lived and was waiting for her, but she’d cross that bridge if she came to it. The more she ran, the more she was certain Tuttle wasn’t with Rafe. He creeped her out, set off her radar, but not in the way Rafe’s men would have.