Dark Diary (12 page)

I glanced at the wall clock. It was past midnight and we hadn’t even cleaned out the money drawer. I sighed and headed into the next room.

Derek shut off the store lights and flipped open the plate covering the alarm box.

“Come on, Kathera,” he said, his tone soft and encouraging. “You’ve been here long enough. Get your stuff and let’s get out of here.”

“But…” I stuck my head out of the back room. “What about
the money and—”

“I took care of it,” he continued. I could tell he was trying to sound concerned and not anxious about our “date.” He was known by those of us at the shop to do nice things on the fly, but it still surprised me a little.

“Thank you, Derek,” I said with a grateful smile, coming back into the main room to meet him. “I appreciate you doing all of that for me.” I gathered my things and he set the alarm system as we stepped out the door.

The smell of coffee and the sweet aroma of pastries
tantalized my nostrils at the only place still open after midnight
—
Café Au Late
. It was a two-story, 24-hour café that had some of the most unique blends of coffee and tea in the city. Five at night or five in the morning, there were late-nighters and coffee enthusiasts alike trickling in and out of the place non-stop. The padded, bar-style seating, mood lighting, and free Wi-Fi made it an obvious choice for anyone looking to finish a thesis or sip away their woes.

Warm air comforted my weary body and I took a seat on
a bench in the corner of the shop overlooking a quaint shopping
strip outside. All I wanted was quiet, and the soft lights of the café invited me to curl up in the corner and rest my mind for the day. Jazz played from the speakers around the room, but it was kept to a minimum volume so people could converse unhindered.
Café Au Late
was no sports bar, and I liked it that way.

I took a deep breath and sunk into the soft, cushiony seat of the corner booth I had chosen.

“Comfortable?” Derek asked, his voice subtle with a hint of jest. He set his drink down onto the table in front of me.

I had almost forgotten he was there.

“Sorry!” I straightened myself up from the cushions and shuffled through my bag for my wallet.

“Can you just get me a decaf latte, please? Extra sweetener and whip cream?” I plucked a five from my purse and presented it to Derek.

He lifted his fingers and flattened his hand, rejecting my money.

“Let me get it tonight, okay?” He flashed a modest smile my way and returned to the counter to order my coffee.

“Thank you…” my voice trailed into silence.

D
erek’s eyes were softly lit by the colorful lanterns around
us and he seemed more relaxed than usual while he spoke. I was too tired to talk about much, so I was an intent listener for most of the night. It seemed to me that he really needed a kind ear to take in his thoughts.

He kept to himself mostly, doing bookkeeping in between tattoos for his own clients. His artwork had been very popular back when I had started working there, and demand was higher than supply. But he’d become introverted since the death of his father, and took on less tattoo work nowadays. I could relate.

Some of my grief had faded a few years after the loss of my mother, but fresh sorrow crept up on me as my stepmother, Aldréa, drove her thorns deeper into my skin with each wicked accusation.

I wished my father were as involved in my life as Derek’s
had been. Fighting with your parents during your angsty teen years is one thing, but not having them around to argue with can leave an even deeper hole in you.

Not that I regret it, but I had learned everything the hard way. I’d learned things the quickest and most unforgiving way possible—through experience. I was proud of my street smarts and had taken care of myself well enough, considering the odds, but a tinge of jealousy bloomed in me as I listened to Derek’s heartfelt recollections of his father.

“I’m boring you already, aren’t I?” Derek shrugged guiltily. “You can tell me the truth.”

I took the last sip of my sweetened coffee and set the cup down with a hollow plop.

He hadn’t even touched his drink yet.

“No, of course not, Derek. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” I gestured for him to continue, but a single glance at his untouched drink sent him reeling into hesitation.

He brought the rim of the cup to his lips and took a drink.

“Lukewarm coffee. Yay.”

His sarcasm made me chuckle.

“Do you want me to have them warm it up for you?” I asked, about to stand.

“Don’t worry about it.” His hand rose.

Nothing bothered him.

I only wished I could say the same about myself.

Even as I tried to forget about Matthaya for just one night,
his verdant, unnatural green gaze snaked in and out of my thoughts. I glanced out the window beside our booth at the rain sprinkling the sidewalk and wondered where he was tonight.

“Are you still living with your father?” Derek asked. He was aware of my situation for the most part, but really had no idea how vicious my stepmother was.

I looked back at him. “Yes. I am,” I replied, unable to mask the regret in my voice. I could have moved out if I had wanted to, but it had never seemed like the right thing to do. I wanted to run away from my life in that old house… from Aldréa and her cruelty, but I loved my father too much to leave him completely alone with her.

At least, that was the excuse I made for myself.

“Need help looking for a place?” he questioned. “I know some nice houses that are probably within your budget. If you’re interested, I—”

“Thank you, Derek. I’ll be alright for now.”

“Oh. Alright.” His fingers grasped the edge of his coffee cup and he shook it in small circles to stir the contents before taking another sip. “You’re always welcome to ask for help if you need it, Kathera. With
anything,
I mean.”

I opened my mouth to reply but nothing came out. So I smiled instead.

Derek’s generosity and kindness stemmed directly from his father’s good nature. This wasn’t the first time he had offered to help me and it surely wouldn’t be the last. It was nice to know he cared enough to offer it.

BUZZ.

The whir of my phone vibrating in my pocket caught me off guard.

I
pardoned myself to check what it was
. It was a text message from my dad.

“
Sorry I missed you tonight. Hope we can catch up again soon.”

“Soon” was probably days away.

I checked the time.

It was almost two in the morning. I didn’t feel like leaving yet, but for the sake of my clients I needed to call it a night. There in the warm café, sitting across from Derek, I felt safe for a change.

Safety couldn’t last forever.

“I should be getting home.” I scooped my purse up from the seat and stood. “It’s really late and I told that client with the demon goddess to come in early tomorrow.”

“I can reschedule it for you, if you’d like,” he suggested. “It’s not a big deal. Not like I didn’t know where you were tonight.”

“I’ll be fine.” I could deal with a lack of sleep.

Derek stood and shrugged his red leather jacket on over his shoulders. His expression changed into an awkward grimace as he looked to the windows. “Would you mind if I drove you home tonight?”

I could have walked to my house from this part of town, but my eyes followed his to the window and to the sudden downpour. It rushed through the city and took the building by storm with a patter of heavy droplets on the roof.

“Sure. Thanks.” A second glance toward the parking lot confirmed where he had parked.

Derek was a fan of boxy-looking, vintage cars and had spent years fixing up a ‘70s Firebird with his dad. The metallic, neon green sports car wasn’t my type of ride—not to mention I couldn’t afford one—but the elaborate dragon decals spread across both sides of it made it look incredible.

He held open the door for me and I got in, tucking my wet bag behind my calves.

“Seatbelt?” he asked, turning on the car.

CLICK.

He shifted the gear stick and we pulled out of the parking lot.

The trip back was short and I remained quiet, intently watching the empty sidewalks and blurry streetlamps buzz past. For an older car, it had a smooth ride. He and his dad had fixed it up quite well.

I glanced across at Derek, whose eyes were locked on the road. His tanned olive skin was soft but imperfect—the edge of his right eyebrow was marked with a naked dash of skin that formed a scar from a knife wound he had gotten in his teen years. He had told me before that his early life had been rough and that he had picked his share of fights, which he regretted with age. It had taken him many years, but he had finally settled down to the responsibilities of his life and taken up work at his dad’s place.

From the corner of my eye, I could see him contemplating whether or not to say anything else to me. He drove his free hand through his short, ruddy golden hair and rubbed the back of his neck. Then his elbow came to rest on the inside of the window frame and he exhaled loudly.

I didn’t know what to say either. Derek was nice, and I
was willing to give him a shot, but deep down, I wasn’t ready for
a relationship with him… Maybe I
never
would be. He wasn’t really what I was looking for. Not that I had
ANY
idea what—or who—it was I was looking for.

I wasn’t ready to tell him that. Silence seemed like the only sure way to remain subjective about our relationship.

Derek pulled up to the sidewalk just outside my house and stopped the car. He switched off the engine and sat there quietly.

The rain wouldn’t let up.

Hopefully Aldréa would be asleep by now.

Derek popped out of his side of the car and jogged over
to mine, where he offered me his jacket in lieu of an umbrella
. I declined and quickly made a short jaunt to the overhang at my doorstep. He followed.

I shook water off my shoes and wiped my palms across my face. As nasty as the weather may have been, I wasn’t in
a hurry to get out of it. Maybe it was just the fear building inside me for what lay ahead. Anything was better than
her
…

“Thanks for the ride.” I wiped my feet on the doormat and smiled at Derek. “And the coffee.”

“No problem,” he replied without hesitating. He slicked his bristly, wet hair back against his head and swiped water from his brow with his fingers. “Don’t worry about tomorrow. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, but I’ll come in either way.”

“Good night, Kathera,” he said with a tender touch of his hand against mine; he couldn’t hide the admiration in his gaze.

Derek took a step off the porch and tracked halfway to his car before turning again to face me. He was already drenched
from the pouring rain.

“Take care of yourself,” he added. His lips formed a small
, sympathetic smile as he waved goodbye for the night.

I returned a small gesture with my fingers.

“I’ll try,” I uttered, too softly for him to hear.

I THREW THE LOCK AND
spun around, startled by the hallway light switching on behind me.

The barrel of a black handgun stared back at me, the trigger tickled by the fingers of my stepmother.

“Where have you been?” she spoke through gritted teeth.
The roughness of her voice made me cringe.

I backed myself up against the door in an attempt to gain a bare inch between us, just to catch my breath.

“I-I was out. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“With who? Where? Why are you back so late?” The gun trembled in her grasp.

My thoughts scattered as fear took over. No amount of
distance could settle my nerves with a gun pointed at my face.

“My boss… we… we were out getting coffee. Damn it, Aldréa, get that thing out of my face!” I shimmied my way past and toward the nearby staircase, her sight never breaking from me.

“I have worked far too hard to get where I am today.” Aldréa followed me, her nose wrinkled and her lips flared.
“I will not have it ruined by a worthless little whore like you.”

My jaw tightened and my face grew hot.

Damn her.

“I am not a—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Aldréa’s eyes narrowed.

She was so damn sure of her accusations. It made me sick.

I took one step backward up the staircase. And then another.

I had to get to my room.

“I won’t share my home with a tramp who thinks she can
come and go whenever she pleases.” She waved her hand
as she spoke, her finger slipping on and off the trigger of the gun.

Fear made my legs heavy and a tingling sensation started
in my hands. I tried to stay focused and grasped the handrail with my sweaty fingers.