The Slot (Rochester Riot #1)(13)
Chapter Five
Even though lunch hour approached, Eloise didn’t feel hungry. Her encounter with Kristoff had ruined her appetite, as usual. Any contact with the man made her feel nauseous, and not just in her stomach. Their whole sordid history evoked some kind of sordid mental illness, and at times, El felt unable to believe she’d ever taken up with the likes of him. Nearly six years had passed since they were together, but certain elements of their relationship still rang clear as a bell in her mind.
Firstly, their eight-year age difference. A few of her co-workers had cautioned her about dating older men, but one look at Kristoff in his executive-style suit and tie had melted her faster than a KwikTrip slush in a cup on a hot day. She’d been so wrapped up in her studies she barely noticed men, did nothing to attract them by way of makeup or fancy clothing, but somehow Kristoff looked past all that and directed the full force of his practiced charm on her. And boy, had it worked. She never stood a chance against his attentions. He was everything she could have dreamed of in a suitor, the kind she would have brought home to meet the family. Handsome and successful. At least until the Rochester Riot came calling.
Secondly, their bedroom relationship became strained after a time, with Kristoff wanting to be a bit more experimental than Eloise was comfortable with. She’d been in love and wanted to please him, but the little past experience she’d had with men up to that time had not been pleasant. It left her self-conscious and afraid of anything but the most basic acts – not nearly enough to satisfy Kristoff’s appetite. Outwardly, they made a handsome couple, but toward the end, Eloise couldn’t help feeling something was amiss. That Kristoff might be exploring his more libertine tastes elsewhere than in their bed.
The final nail in the coffin hammered home when the executive recruiters hand-picked Eloise for her job with the Riot. She’d been so excited she couldn’t wait to tell Kristoff, but when she got home with her news, he basically pissed all over it. She had no idea he’d been up for the same role, and his attitude only stiffened her resolve to move on. When she told him she shouldn’t date her subordinates anyway, he got so mad she thought he’d burst into flames. She walked out the very same night.
Enough reminiscing. It was giving her a migraine so painful it felt like the Minnesota Gophers marching band tromped on her brain, cymbals clanging. Eloise thought it best to get out of the office for some fresh air and a bite to eat. It occurred to her there were several cafés and snack bars along the streets where the protesters ran their businesses, and what better way to get a feel for their situation than to experience it firsthand.
She pulled on her coat and donned a pair of flat-heeled boots from the formidable arsenal of shoes under her desk. Her shoe fetish was one of the only splurges she allowed herself and with her salary, she could afford the ones she wanted.
As she left the office to walk downtown, she found the streets in question a delightful, eclectic mix of brick, concrete, and wood-fronted buildings. The quaint shop windows sported awnings and leftover Christmas lights. She eyed a smoothie bar and went inside. Giving her order at the counter, she asked the man behind it if he was the owner.
“Sure am,” he said with a nod as he moved to gather ingredients for the healthy concoction.
“What do you think of the new whiskey pub going up alongside the arena?” she asked.
The man eyed her with a shouldn’t I know you look but shook his head as he added the various ingredients of her smoothie to the blender. “I’m just not sure the local clientele is interested in a snooty venue like that. We like things simple around here. Real and down-to-earth. Dependable. Like the fruit in this smoothie,” he said, switching on the machine. Eloise watched the brilliant colors of pineapple, wheatgrass and cranberry whirl around inside. He poured it into a tall cup and handed it to her with a smile and a flourish.
“I can’t see anybody from around here buying fancy, overpriced liquor. Especially when they’ve already spent their hard-earned money on tickets just to see the games. We’re not worried about our own folks, but we are worried about what kind of people the bar will attract, and the fact the main street into the area will be blocked.”
She thanked the man and slurped her smoothie through the oversized neon straw before moving farther down the street. A few doors down she found Blues & Brews. A vintage, hand-carved wooden sign hung over the entrance, and soft pendant lights glowed through the mullioned windows. She dumped her empty smoothie cup in a sidewalk trash bin and stepped inside.
The rich, aromatic flavors of exotic coffees infiltrated her nostrils. Delicious. The café was deceptively large inside compared to its exterior. Antique wall sconces lit the perimeter of the room and reflected across the low, tin-paneled ceiling. Bistro-style tables and chairs filled most of the floor space and beyond them stood a long bar hosting several complex-looking coffee machines. Soft guitar music emanated from a tiny stage area in the corner.
Eloise strode toward the haunting melody and started when a wave of recognition hit her. Cole Fiorino sat on a tall stool in the corner, plucking out a tune on an acoustic guitar. She moved closer, listening to him play, fascinated by yet another side of this man that she didn’t know about. His foot tapped against the footrest of the stool as he concentrated on his song, repeating riffs here and there to get them right.
Strumming my pain with his gorgeous, long fingers and all that.