One of Us Is Next(69)
Sort of. I’m working. But I’m bringing friends, so it counts.
Jules looks at me appraisingly. She knows my social options are pretty limited right now. “You and Knox?” she guesses. The disdain in her voice is clear enough that I know exactly what she’s implying.
I resist the urge to say It’s not a date. “And Maeve.”
Jules smirks and heads for the door, yanking it open. “Well, that sounds like a fun ménage à trois.”
I stomp after her, trying to marshal some kind of comeback, but as soon as she hits the hallway she’s engulfed in the octopus-like embrace of Sean Murdock. “Baby,” he growls, suctioning himself to her face. I skirt around them, my jaw clenched, suddenly wishing I’d tried to make the Nate thing happen while I had the chance.
* * *
—
Café Contigo is quiet for a Thursday, and by four o’clock most of the people in the restaurant are staff. Mrs. Santos, who’s making a rare appearance at the cash register, gestures me over when my only customer gets up to leave. Ahmed, the other waiter on duty, is leaning against the counter beside her, his eye on the table full of hip young Bayview moms sitting in his station with expensive strollers. They’re all wearing cute yoga clothes, their hair in carefully messy ponytails. The babies have been quiet since they arrived, but one of them has started to fuss.
“Hush, hush,” the baby’s mother says in a singsong voice, moving the stroller back and forth. “You’re okay, go back to sleep.” Ahmed looks wary, and I don’t blame him. I have five cousins under the age of three, and I know for a fact that as soon as one baby starts to cry the rest will join in solidarity.
“Why don’t you go ahead and clock out, Phoebe,” Mrs. Santos says. She’s tall and slender, with expressive dark eyes and elegant cheekbones. Luis gets his good looks from her. “Addy will be in at five, and Ahmed can handle the room until then.”
“Okay,” I say, starting to untie my apron.
Ahmed, still hovering beside Mrs. Santos with his eyes on the yoga mom table, asks, “Did you give Phoebe that thing, Mrs. S?” We both blink at him, and he clarifies, “The note?”
Mrs. Santos makes a tsk sound and shakes her head. “I completely forgot! My apologies, Phoebe. Ahmed said someone dropped this off for you earlier.” She roots under the counter and hands me a sealed envelope with my name scrawled across the front. “A young man. What did he say again, Ahmed?”
“That you were expecting it,” Ahmed says. The blondest yoga mom waves her hand to catch his attention, and he starts across the room toward her.
“Expecting what?” I ask, but he doesn’t hear me. I pull my apron off and stash it behind the counter, heading for the table where Knox, Maeve, and Luis are sitting. Luis is working, supposedly, but he’s been sitting and talking for the past hour. I could swear that every time I look over, his chair is a little closer to Maeve’s. She’s been looking especially pretty since she got her test results back, and today she’s wearing a fitted T-shirt with shimmery gold threading that brings out the honey color of her eyes. That unexpected clean bill of health has her practically glowing. Or maybe something else does.
I rip the envelope open as I walk, curious, and pull out a single sheet of paper. “Are you done for the day?” Maeve asks, but I only half hear her. My heart jumps into my throat as I read the words in front of me:
What’s with the disappearing act?
We need to talk.
Meet me at the gazebo in Callahan Park at 5:30 today.
DO NOT ignore this like you’ve been ignoring everything else.
What the hell? “Ahmed!” I call. He’s striding toward the kitchen at a rapid clip but pauses at my urgent tone.
“What?”
I wave the note. “Who left this?”
“I told you. Some guy.”
“But who?”
“He didn’t give his name. Just—a guy. He’s been here before.”
“What’s going on?” Maeve asks. I hand her the note. Her eyes scan the page and she inhales sharply. “Whoa. Who is this from?”
“I don’t know,” I say helplessly. The only person I’ve been ignoring lately is Derek, and I never imagined that actual stalking was his style. But then again, other than the most ill-advised ten minutes of my life in Jules’s laundry room during her Christmas party, it’s not like I’ve spent quality time with the guy.
I wave frantically at Ahmed, who’s trying to escape into the kitchen again. “Ahmed, wait! Could you please come here for a second?”
Maeve reads the note out loud to Luis and Knox as Ahmed approaches. Suddenly we’re all talking at once, tripping over one another. Finally Maeve raises her voice above everyone else’s. “Hang on. The guy who left this, you said he’s been here before?” She tilts her head questioningly at Ahmed, who nods. “What did he look like?”
“I don’t know. Standard white dude.” Ahmed shrugs. “Little older than you guys, maybe. Brown hair. Pale. Kinda tall.”
That’s Derek, Derek, and Derek. Which puts my mind slightly at ease. At least Derek is a known quantity, sort of.
Knox’s eyes get wide. “That sounds like…was the guy intense-looking?” he asks.