Black Buck(74)

She rolled her eyes. “Lexi, actually.”

“My bad. I just had a bad dream. I’m a little confused right now.”

“Yeah,” she said, twisting around in my silk sheets like a snake in the sun. “You were talking in your sleep all night. You said ‘Ma’ a few times, but who’s Soraya?”

Shit. So it was Soraya last night. Some nights it was Jason. Others it was Mr. Rawlings. Every night it was Ma, which was one reason I never kept any woman around for long. I hated the questions.

“No one. But listen, this was fun. I gotta take a shower and head to the office. So . . .”

“So that’s it? Giving me the boot already?”

“It’s more like an expensive alligator-leather loafer.” I smirked.

“Asshole. Can you at least lend me your driver?”

“Lend you my driver? Who do you think I am? Here,” I said, quickly tapping my phone. “An Uber’s arriving in five minutes.”

She jumped out of the bed, punched her arms through her white maxi dress, and stomped across the kitchen. “So how do I get in touch with you?” she asked, a perfect hand resting against the bathroom door.

“You don’t,” I said, pulling the door shut.

“I hope you don’t treat every girl you have sex with like this!” she screamed all the way into the elevator.



* * *





“Morning, sir. Where to?”

“Sumwun, Chauncey. Thanks. And don’t drive too quickly,” I said, absorbed by my phone.

“Yes, sir. Everything okay? You seem tense.”

“Everything’s fine, Chauncey. Let’s just get to Sumwun in one piece.”

I flinched when my phone vibrated. It was Barry.

Find that SDR yet? It’s been a week my man.

On it.

When we got to 3 Park Avenue, I tiptoed up the stairs. I was fiending for caffeine, but I didn’t want to waste time going upstairs, giving Porschia my order, and then waiting, so I walked right into Starbucks.

Brian stood behind the register. The morning rush was just over. But instead of the same green apron he’d worn for years, he now wore a black one.

“Damn, Brian, when did you become a coffee master?” I hoped my cheery tone masked my anxiety. I hadn’t been in there in months.

“Last month.” He avoided my eyes. “Jared got fired for spitting in people’s drinks, and they had no one else.”

“Congrats. What happened to Nicole and Carlos?”

“Carlos disappeared two months ago. I think he got arrested or something. And Nicole had a baby a few weeks ago and moved to Iowa with her wife.”

There was something different about Brian. But I wasn’t sure what it was.

“You gonna order anything?” He clutched fistfuls of black apron with one hand, tapping the counter with the other like a wartime telegraphist.

“Pike Place Roast.”

He nodded to an Asian kid, who immediately got to work. I pulled out my card, but he waved it away. “On the house,” he said, still staring at the floor.

“Thanks, man. Must be nice to be the boss now, right? No one to tell you what to do, and it looks like you have some good soldiers here.”

“I guess. Just took your advice and decided to stick to Starbucks for life. It could be worse, I think.”

“That’s right,” I said, feeling sick. I bent over, gripping my stomach, trying not to throw up everywhere.

“You okay?” He leaned over the counter.

I threw my hand up. “Yeah.” As I knelt on the ground, I realized what was different about Brian. He wasn’t screaming random obscenities every five seconds.

I got up and straightened my suit. “What happened to your Tou-rette’s?”

“Not exactly sure. But I started going to behavioral therapy and meditating a few months ago, and I don’t have tics as often as I used to.”

“Thanks, Leah,” he said, grabbing my coffee from a white girl and handing it to me. “Here.”

“Listen, Brian,” I started. “My bad for being so harsh last year. I was just stressed out, you know?”

“No worries, Darren. You were right. I was stupid to think I could ever do what you do. I’m making more money than before, and that probably wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t listened to you and focused on being the best barista I could be. So I guess I should thank you.”

Shit, I must be the best salesman in the world if I actually convinced someone that slaving away at Starbucks should be their life’s ambition. But what if I could help Brian and find Barry’s SDR at the same time?

Reader: Always keep your eyes open. Your next opportunity could be staring you right in the face.



“Fuck that,” I said.

He finally looked at me. “Huh?” he said, confusion squishing the pockmarks around his eyes.

I yanked him over the counter. “Forget everything I said before, Brian. I was fucking wrong, man. Do you still want to learn to do what I do?”

He looked down at my hands—gripping his apron, shirt, and probably some chest hair—and then at me, eyes wide and full of fear. I could feel his heart thumping.

“I can’t do what you do, Darren,” he said, swallowing hard. “I gave up on all of that. You were right. Plus, this isn’t so bad. It’s like Green Lantern issue one hundred eighty-one when Hal Jordan retires for good.”