Page 65 of Cut Me Down

I make my way into the coffee shop next door, and marvel at the serene, relaxing environment. It’s very warm in here. Not really the temperature, but the feeling. The floors are a nice warm wood, and the walls are a warmer gray, with a wooden accent wall behind the counter and menu. Luscious green plants surround the room. Either hanging from the ceiling or sitting on the tables or counters.

It’s actually busier than I imagined, and suddenly I feel weird being in here. It’s mostly filled with patrons who needed their caffeine fix before their important jobs. Everyone is dressed in nice office attire and most everyone has a fake smile plastered to their face. I even notice Robert in the far corner.

“Good morning. May I help you?” I look forward to the noise and see a woman behind the counter. Younger, probably around twenty. Long platinum hair tied into a straight ponytail, and her prefect brown apron is draped without a single crease.

“Um, yes.” I walk up and stare at the hundreds of options. Okay, well that’s an exaggeration, but the list is very long. “Would it be weird if I asked you to pick? I don’t know what any of this is or what it means.” I chuckle and she beams with a smile. Pure excitement shines behind her eyes. I’m guessing she doesn’t normally get that request.

“Okay! Sounds fun! What are you thinking of? Do you want hot or iced? Iced drinks can taste a little stronger.”

Well, if stronger is the game…

“I’ll try iced.”

“Okay, do you like any flavors? Any preference on how strong?”

“Um, I like vanilla, and strong enough to prove that I don’t have childish taste.” She laughs.

“Okay, great. One semi-sweet, vanilla iced coffee coming right up.” She rings me up and it’s not long before she’s handing me a dark iced drink. Kind of looks like tea, but I saw her put a shot of espresso in it, so we’ll see how this goes. I take a seat on the opposite side of the shop, and I hear a woman’s laptop play from a few tables down. She’s pulled up the DH podcast, waiting for it to start. Curiously, I move to the table next to her.

“Do you mind if I listen?” I ask and she shakes her head as I focus on the screen.

“Good morning city people! This is D.N. with your weekly DH recap! So far this week, there have been three different warehouse busts called in to police, bringing our weekly dead count to twenty-nine! The crazy thing is that only a few of those bodies were not involved in the warehouse raids.

Four days ago, police received an anonymous tip of a body being left in the lake. When they pulled the body out, there was a bag of the victim’s personal belongings secured, waterproofed, and zip tied to the body. Jeremy Eizner’s body was recovered with not only drug paraphernalia, but his wallet and ID, all clearly visible.

Normally, the police have the task of identifying the bodies, but why was this one so important? Why is it crucial that his drugs and pipe were easily accessible to the police? They also seem to believe that this is a kill of rage. Normally, when anonymous calls for DH bodies are recovered, it’s a simple shot to the head or chest, quick slit of the throat, or something indicating that it is strictly business.

This, however? Looked personal as hell folks. This man's face was so badly beaten that without his ID, there's a good chance they never would have been able to identify him. On top of this escalation, it also gave us a small bit of information about DH. At the same time of the estimated time of death, on the other side of the city, a small-time meth dealer was taken out, also claiming to be DH.

I mean we were pretty positive that Devil’s Hands was not just one person, but now that it’s confirmed, it leads to other questions. Like was this bit of information given intentionally? Or did something happen and cause DH to screw up?

Either way, Devil’s Hands needs to keep their mind in the game. My sources tell me that criminal and suspicious activity has risen over the past couple of weeks, and my opinion? Something is coming. DH efforts to stop Dust are ruthless, but the number of dealers and warehouses linked to Dust keep rising. So, DH, if you’re listening, stay focused. Without you, I’m afraid of what’s going to become of this city.”

Jeremy Eizner? Is that the man Damien killed the other night for following me? This kid is right, it is very unlike DH to leave a body in that manner. The lake water would get rid of any evidence. Is that why his crew got rid of the body the way they did? Did Damien slip up because he was worried about me? I know he killed the man from the bar, so I can only imagine what he did to the guy from the other night.

I can’t be a problem for him. I can’t distract him from his mission. D.N. is right. Things in his world have been escalating. He even said so this morning. I’m already proving to be more trouble than I’m worth.

I nod my head to the woman, thanking her in a silent gesture. The podcast is still playing, but I ignore it, and walk out of the shop. Sipping on this very strong coffee on my way to work. I need to find some time to myself today at some point and think everything over. I know relationships are supposed to be about communication, but how do I explain my feelings to him? He hates that I think of myself as a burden, I don’t see bringing this up going any better.

I turn my shop key into the lock and make my way inside. Sipping my coffee, that isn’t half bad, as I step in and started my day.

I love the weather just before a big storm comes in. The breeze is cool, and the air has a softness to it. I know ‘the calm before the storm’ is something people like to say when they’re foreshadowing, but why does it have to mean something bad when it’s the best part?

It's not often I climb on to the awning outside of the shop. After I used to look down and picture myself jumping off the fire escape, I couldn’t stomach climbing over it to get over here. Lately, I've been wanting to. Not jump, I'm past that I think, but sit out here watch the streets below. Enjoy the breeze and ghost-like feel of downtown on a weeknight.

I even let the dangerous thoughts in as I sit out here and let my mind wander. The ones where I think of a different life. One where I’m not so fucked up, and I’m actually healed and past all of my trauma. One where I could be enough for a partner and have more to offer than depression. Maybe a house instead of this apartment, actually getting a degree and only cutting hair one day a week. The sound of kids in the background as my best friend and I stand to the side and watch them play. Her kids would be rowdy and break every rule, while mine would try to act innocent, but be the ones to come up with the ideas.

I haven’t thought about those things in a long time, and I could push it aside and say it was a lapse in judgement. That there’s nothing that would prompt me to think of those things, but that’d be a lie.

Now in these thoughts, at least one of the kids has bright, ever changing blue eyes, and it’s like I can actually smell him, even now. A part of me hates myself for letting that slip through, but I suppose a man with same blue eyes coming inside you every night invites those feelings. I definitely shouldn’t be thinking this way, and it shouldn’t be warming my chest or causing my stomach to flutter, but here I am, and the thought of a family far into the future isn’t so scary anymore.

I can imagine that Richard and Marla have thought about being grandparents, and I’m sure they have a bet going on who will make them grandparents first. Me or Ser. Before the past few weeks? My bet would have totally been on Serena. The fact that she hasn’t gotten pregnant yet is insane to think of. I suppose birth control is a wonderful thing after all.

She’d be a good mom, it’s not that I doubt her in any way, but she loves her single, no attachment life. Now Richard and Marla? I can’t imagine better grandparents. I just think of all of the things that they’ve done for me, someone not even blood to them, and I can’t begin to imagine what they’d do for a grandchild.

I remember when I first moved into their home, Richard built me a deck right off of my bedroom window because he knew I used to climb onto our roof from my bedroom window when I needed a small escape. After DCFS made me go back to my parents, I crawled out there every evening so Richard could drive by and see that I was alive when he got off of work.

“Are you okay?” I jolt and snap my head to his deep voice, scaring the shit out of me again. He’s standing on the fire escape, just behind the awning, and the darkness from the night encases him. Making him appear as the dark angel I've come to like.

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