Page 10 of Two For the Show
When I let go of the latte, the finance bro jerks his eyes away. “I’m sure,” he says into the phone, waving me offwith a charming smile. “No, I know how important this is.” His voice trails off as he walks away, and I turn my attention back to the counter where a group of teenage girls are clustered to get their fix before they head off to school.
They all order pumpkin spice lattes.
Secure in themselves, not willing to listen to the garbage that says anything that women like makes them a ‘basic bitch’ and that they should pretend not to enjoy something delicious because it’s associated with women.
October has brought enough chill in the air that it is the perfect time for one, and I’m already looking forward to making myself one at the end of my shift. I can’t get enough of the spicy, sweet beverage.
Sylvia opens the door to the back of the truck, climbing in. “Sorry, that took longer than I thought it would,” she says apologetically. “What do you have for me?”
“Four pumpkin spice,” I reply, biting my tongue not to ask where she’s been.
“With whip?” one of the girls asks tentatively, like she’s embarrassed by it.
“Is there any other way to do it?” I respond with a wink.
Sylvia had a mysterious appointment this morning and asked me to open the truck up on my own. I don’t mind, especially not after all she’s done for me this past six weeks. But she’s usually one of those people who spill their guts over everything, so the secrecy is odd.
I don’t bring it up, though. If it were my business, she’d tell me.
We finish out the Saturday shift and head back to her house. I’ve been staying there with her, and true to her word, Sylvia isn’t charging me rent and is providing all thegroceries. I keep the tips we make each shift, and I’m watching the stack of safety pile up every day.
That’s what money is when you’re living like I am right now. It’s safety. It’s security that you’re going to have a place to sleep and food in your belly.
I grew up in privilege, and as a two-income household, with both of us being doctors, Rich and I never wanted for anything. This has been a major adjustment for me, and I am starting to realize how out of touch I’ve been with the struggles of many people.
Sylvia turns the television on to the local news station as she shuffles off to the kitchen to make a late lunch for us. I gave up asking her to stop mothering me after the third day, and instead, I do all the dishes after she’s fed me.
It’s a fair trade, perhaps even a little balanced in my favor.
The pretty anchor, with shiny brown hair and bright red lips, is talking to her co-anchor, a handsome man with salt-and-pepper hair and laugh lines around the sides of his eyes.
“It’s a terribly sad story,”she’s saying, like we’re voyeurs to their casual conversation.“Such a promising young doctor.”
“Well, we can’t lose hope. Her pack certainly hasn’t.”
My stomach bottoms out. I knew this was coming. They wouldn’t give up easily, especially not after someone in the circus helped them get so close to grabbing me.
“You’re right, Todd. Earlier today, the Alphas of Pack Smith had another press conference, pleading for any information on their missing Omega.”
The screen switches to the image of Rich, Tripp, and Greg standing solemnly together in front of the hospital where we worked together. Behind them, my parents, who never much cared for Rich, honestly, look devastated.
I hadn’t considered the impact this would have on my parents. We haven’t been very close since things got serious with Rich. My father looks exhausted. He swore that Rich wasn’t what he seemed, and I refused to listen, which put a damper on our relationship. I’m responsible for the rift between us. Maybe I should have tried to flee to them, but I am so embarrassed that it has gotten this far.
Rich has clearly charmed them, if they have gotten over their discomfort around him. And I never even told them about Greg and Tripp.
They must be so upset with me, keeping so much of my life from them.
My scent match leans forward, toward the microphone on a wooden stand in front of him.
“We have had the tip line called a few times, but no, it’s never panned out to any viable information thus far,”he says, clearly answering a question the broadcast decided to cut out.“But I hold faith that we’ll find her, and she’ll be returned to us once more. Alex is the light of our lives, and her absence is a gaping wound.”
A gaping wound? He always did have a flair for the dramatics.
If I left a wound, I hope it fucking festers.
The broadcast cuts back to the two, overly made-up anchors.
“Isn’t that so romantic? They love her so much.”
