Page 50 of The Devil She Knows
“Whatever the hell your name is—”
“Cassandra,” she repeated. “I just told you that it’s Cassandra.”
“Literally,” the other barista added,sohelpfully.
Sam narrowed her eyes. “All right,Cassandra, if that’s the way you want to play it. You leave me alone. Stay out of my way, you hear me?”
Daphne/Cassandra held up her hands. “You came into the coffee shop where I work.”
Sam snatched her coffee off the bar, and if she weren’t in desperate need of caffeine, she’d have dumped it in the trash just to make the point that she didn’t give onewhitwhat Daphne said—Sam didn’t trust a word that came out of her mouth. “I won’t make that same mistake again.”
She spun on her heel and beelined for the door.
“Miss? You forgot your croissant! Miss!”
From the outside, Glut hadn’t changed.
The brick building, with its black awning over the door,Glutetched in gold on the glass, stood in the same place it always had on Prince Street. The unlacquered brass door handle was still shaped like a spoon, and as soon as Sam stepped through the door, she was greeted by the light citrusy scent of the beeswax-based wood polish they used each week to shine the bar, same as always.
From the back of house came the clatter of dishes, voices drifting through the empty dining room. Sam wiped her feet on the welcome mat, which readMANGEZ,BUVEZ,ET PRENEZ DU BON TEMPS, and followed the bright sound of laughter to the kitchen.
“No, no, no, you guys gotta hear this part.” Felix’s voice carried down the hall. “Carmy stroked his fingers along the inside of Sydney’s thigh—”
“Don’t read it out loud!” Javier shouted. “I sent that shit to you in confidence!”
“You sent me porn.The Bearporn. What’d you think I was gonna do? Frame it? Of course I’m reading this shit out loud.”
“It’s fan fiction, you chucklefuck. And I worked really hard on it, so I’d appreciate if you didn’t call itshit,man.”
“Aw, Javi, baby,” Felix cooed. “I’m sorry. C’mere. Let me make it up to you.”
“Ah, gross! Get off me, man!”
More laughter filled the kitchen.
“Javi, I’m sorry. You’ve got a gift, okay? No, don’t give me that look. I mean it. You’ve got a real way with words.”
“You think?”
“Oh, yeah,” Oslo, who hadn’t spoken until now, said. “Felix sent it to me this morning. I read it on the way in. It was real”—he snickered—“tasteful.”
Sam slipped inside the kitchen just as Felix burst out laughing.
Oslo was the first to spot her. He froze, an eggplant in one hand and a peach in the other, in the middle of pantomiming something crass with the produce. The laughter died on his lips and the peach tumbled to the floor with a soft thud.
“Sounds rowdy in here,” she joked. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s not even noon and y’all are already up to no good.”
A hush fell over the kitchen, so quiet she could hear the hum of the gas stove. She was pretty sure Javier wasn’t even breathing as he stared at her like she’d … well, like she’d sprouted horns or something.
“Chef Cooper,” Melissa greeted her, the first to recover. Her smile was a rictus, frozen on her face. “What are you doing here? I mean … we weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
“No?” Oh shit. Why not? “You weren’t?”
A silent look passed among the group that Sam couldn’t begin to decipher.
Was she … sick or something? Down with the flu? She felt fine, but from the way everyone was looking at her, she’d have thought they’d seen a ghost.
“No.” Melissa spoke slowly, dragging out the word, and Sam couldn’t get a handle on her tone, couldn’t tell whether she thought Sam was acting a few fries short, or what.“We weren’t.Shouldwe have been expecting you, Chef Cooper?”
