Page 16 of Soulless Saint

He whipped out his phone without another word and guided me to stand over near the window. “Shouldn’t I take it off?”

“Nah. You rock it like it was made for you.”

Way to twist the knife, dude.

“Besides, the listings with pictures of people wearing the clothes always sell better.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“I’m not this well dressed by accident, babe.”

Sure enough, I took in the outfit he’d been hiding beneath the Death Before Decaf apron, finding designer denim and a stylish t-shirt from last season’s Cuccinelli collection.

“Those are six hundred dollar jeans.”

I thought of the wage Logan from the cafe explained to me when he’d offered me the job this afternoon, trying to do the math. He’d have to work something like forty hours to afford them.

“Try eighty bucks,” he said with a wink, snapping the first few photos of the dress.

My lips popped open.

“Thrift shop, baby. Stand to the side, lift your chin.”

“Actually, could you just crop my head out of those?”

He nodded his understanding, probably thinking I didn’t want people to know I was selling my designer clothes but in reality I didn’t want my bestie finding out. It would only make her worry. Or my dad. It would make him smug as fuck.

“Toby will probably have that sold within a couple days. You can stay in the meantime,” Kate offered and I felt a three ton weight drop off my shoulders in relief.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I got to admit, I thought you were some snooty stuck up bitch when you first walked into Death today—”

“Yup,” Toby agreed, popping the ‘p’ with a cheeky smirk in my direction. “High class bitch.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. Anyway, you’re definitely not what I had you pegged as. And I mean, you’re in two of my classes at CalArts, so we can share notes.”

Toby chuckled. “Totally thought she was a Kilborn girl.”

“Are they that bad?” I asked, wondering if anyone I saw out in the Row this morning was from there. Though I supposed an artsy cafe with a name like Death Before Decaf would draw the more easy going crowd from the university I was attending.

“Not all of them,” Kate replied. “But most are what Tobes and I like to not-so-affectionately call the Kilborn Karens.“

“Make their skim milk, half-sweet sugar-free caramel flat whites even a little bit wrong and they’ll refuse to pay.”

“And don’t even think about getting a tip.”

“Oh no,” Toby agreed with mock drama in his eyes. “Tipping is strictly off-brand for Kilborn Karens.”

Toby finished with the pictures and we all found our way back into the living room, where Kate put on the kettle to make us some fresh pressed coffee. Seeing the tall glass pitcher with the chrome details and plunger top made me want to cry with relief after considering the use of the machine in the motel room this morning.

I dug around in my purse for my last two hundred bucks while Kate poured the boiling water over the perfectly coarse coffee grinds, letting them bloom like a pro before adding water all the way to the top and giving the whole thing a gentle stir.

If I swung the other way, I might’ve fallen in love with her there and then.

“Here.” I handed her seven slightly crumpled twenties and a ten dollar bill that looked like a rabid racoon got at it. “At least let me give you a little something until Toby can sell the dress for me.”

“Already got two bites,” the man himself called from the living room sofa. “Baiting the line now. I’ll have your first month’s rent in two shakes, baby doll.”

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