Page 75 of Between Never and Forever
“You’re getting faster in your sobriety.”
I grin, ring on my hand almost forgotten.
“I know.”
18
I walk outsidewith Red trailing behind me.
He punches in the security code for the wrought iron door that leads from the courtyard to the street, and I hear it snap open.
“Gotta use the code to get in and out?”
“In and out.”
“Hm. Security on lock,” I say, and Red grunts.
He won’t bring it up, but I know he pushed for these extra measures because of the stalker I had last year. Some forty-something-year-old man had delusions of me being his wife and managed to break into our tour bus and steal a bunch of my underwear. We saw him on the cameras but didn’t catch him until three weeks later when we found him in my hotel shower.
Showering.
And jerking off with my bodywash.
I shudder at the memory. Guy ended up in a facility for mentally unstable people, and I didn’t press charges because the label didn’t want a media frenzy. I still double check my locks on the doors and windows before I go to bed.
Red and I stroll down the street toward the riverwalk, stopping every few feet so Ziggy can sniff at something. She’s not very good on a leash yet. She pulls. She’s not very good at all, honestly. She’s house trained and that’s about it. Absolutely no manners. I love it.
The riverwalk is busy, but no one looks our way other than to say hi to Ziggy. I think people are scared of Red because he’s a giant covered in tattoos. It works out in my favor. I’m able to enjoy the scenery and the walk. The breeze tickles my skin and sets my nerves at ease. When I see a coffee shop, I flash Red a grin. I can’t see for sure because of his dark sunglasses, but I can feel his side-eye.
“Can’t bring the mutt in,” he states, and I shrug.
“Just stay out here with her. I’ll be like five minutes.”
“And when you get recognized?”
I shrug again. It’s a matter of time before it happens, anyway, and then my life will be a madhouse of bulb flashes and paparazzi tails for a few weeks. Then, hopefully, the excitement will die off and the mob will shrink from double to single digits.
“You want one of those frozen kid drinks?” I ask him instead of answering. He doesn’t say yes, but I know he wants one. Caramel flavored with whipped cream because my big scary ex-Marine bodyguard has the tastebuds of a five-year-old.
I give him a smile, then walk into the café.
It’s absolutely adorable, and it smells amazing. Like coffee and baked goods. The place looks like it used to be a car repair shop or something, because on either side of the doorway there are old garage doors. They’re currently up, making the front walls of the café open to the sidewalk, with just a metal railing separating the inside from the outside. There are a few tables and chairs placed along the railings, too, for a cute little indoor/outdoor dining experience.
There are a handful of people sitting at the mismatched tables. One guy has a giant textbook open in front of him, but he’s wearing headphones and scrolling through his phone. A woman at one of the front tables is working on a laptop with a half-eaten scone sitting on the tabletop next to her. Someone in the corner is reading a newspaper.
No one is paying any attention to me, and my body sags with relief. I may have been ready for the attention, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
I walk up to the register and the kid behind it greets me with a confused smile. I’m still wearing my aviators, so I know all he can see is his reflection in the mirrored lenses.
“Hey,” he says with a cock of his head. “Welcome to Port Town Beanery. What can I get started for you?”
I scan the menu again, then order a large latte with an extra espresso shot for me, and a caramel frozen coffee for Red. With whipped cream on top.
“And can I get six blueberry muffins to go, too?”
The kid nods. “Sure thing. Name for the order?”
“Priscilla,” I say, giving him one of the aliases I use in public, then walk to the bulletin board on the wall and look it over while he makes the coffee.
