Charles stepped forward suddenly, and I leaned away from his advance.
“Marcus was in your house?” he asked. All his carelessness fell away in that moment, and, in its place, I simply saw a man. A very concerned man. “Did he—did anything happen?”
“He left a note. Said he hopes we meet again, or something.”
Charles’ shoulders visibly relaxed. “He wants you on your terms. Perhaps he had nothing to do with Cody coming after you. Do you have to work today?”
“Yes.” I didn’t really, but I desperately needed to be busy. Needed something to ground me in my own world, however crappy my world might have been. Plus there was that whole bill collectors wanting to get paid thing.
“Well, he won’t come here. We’ll figure something out before nightfall.”
“So now you want to help me? I thought you just wanted to give me some answers and be done with me.”
Charles’ jaw tensed. “Is that what you’d prefer?”
“No, but—”
“I don’t wish to be ‘done with you’.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Back to Marcus,” I said, my words jolting the tender look from his eyes. “Would he send someone else? Since apparently humans like to help these people out?”
“If he’d wanted, he would have taken you last night.”
“Comforting.”
Charles scowled. “Regardless, most humans don’t help in that way,” he said, slipping back into his know-it-all tone. “He wouldn’t hire a human to do something he could take care of himself.”
“I’m not something to be ‘taken care of’,” I said sharply.
With a low chuckle, he stepped closer. “That’s debatable,” he said. “Try to stay in one piece until I return. I’ll meet you for coffee after your shift.”
Attempting not to sound enthused, I offered a non-committal, “Okay.”
“What time?” he asked.
“Shift’s over at four.”
“Perfect.” He smiled. “It’s a date.”
“It’s not a date,” I said. “It’s coffee.”
I turned and headed into the diner. Coffee. And, more importantly, answers.
Not a date.
***
THE BREAKFAST CROWD THINNED. This would be the only lull in my day—my one chance to catch a breather and spend some time by myself. My eleven AM ‘lunch’ break.
As I started for the backroom computer to see if anything came up on the Internet for that Basker Street address, a voice called across the diner.
“Hey! Sophia!” I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Lauren. Exactly what I needed right now: a human exclamation point.
I turned around. She was sitting at table six, one of her Japanese street wear magazines open in front of her. She’d started reading those when she began studying Japanese, hoping one day she would know enough to fly across the Pacific and confront the relatives that had shunned her as a child.
I hadn’t seen her in forever. So long, in fact, that her black hair had grown from a short pixie cut to fall in layers of satin around her shoulders. Hot pink headphones draped over her neck, flattening her silky strands. California hadn’t changed her olive complexion, and she apparently still had an affinity for mascara and lip-gloss.
At any other time, seeing her would have lightened my mood, but right now, her timing sucked. Just last night, I’d officially been shoved from one world into the next. A world she was not a part of.
I headed over to the booth, and she wrapped me in a tight hug, holding a Styrofoam cup behind my back. She pushed back to hold me at arm’s length. “I cannot believe you didn’t call me when I got to town!”
“Are you kidding? I’ve called four times and left a message last week.” I sat, and Lauren reseated herself across from me.
“You could’ve stopped by,” she said. “You made time for Ivory, which I expect you to tell me all about.” Her bottom lip, full and creased down the middle, stuck out in a fake pout. “Who was that cute guy you were talking to this morning?”
Inwardly, I groaned, but for Lauren’s sake, I let out some uneasy laughter. “You saw him?”
“On my way to pay the water bill.” She sipped her soda directly from the cup, the tip of the straw already chewed shut. “So, is he as gorgeous up close as he is from across the street?”
“I didn’t see him from across the street, so it’s impossible to compare.”
“You know, it wouldn’t be the end of the world to say you saw a cute guy.”
I tried to look super busy with the napkin holder. “I sort of know him.”
“What? How?” She set down her drink and gave me her best ‘serious’ look. “What kind of sort of knowing are we talking about here?”
“Not that kind.” I might have rolled my eyes, since I apparently did that sometimes. “We met at the club, through Ivory.”
“I knew I should have tagged along! Ivory said you were going, but I don’t like to stick my chin where it isn’t welcome.”