Authors: Haven Cage
She was hiding something. I could see it in her eyes.
“Besides, I’m sure you don’t really want to talk about
your
disappearing mark, do you?” She swatted the hair away from my forehead and waited for a response.
“Fine,” I resigned. I could see this was going nowhere. But nobody heals that fast. I wasn’t supposed to, either. I couldn’t explain my burn vanishing any more than she wanted to explain how her wound magically healed itself.
For the rest of the day, I refrained from asking Layla questions that weren’t work related. Her demeanor was different now, like she was pushing me away. I did what she told me and pretended that there was nothing weird going on.
Every so often, I raced up to George and checked on him. Most of the time he was sleeping or hacking up a lung. Throughout the day, his color worsened and his breathing became more labored. I left without bothering him every time, telling myself he was a grown man, and I needed to respect his wishes—even if it hurt me to see him this way.
After the café settled from its lunch rush, I restocked the drink and prep stations. I kept to myself; bonding was the last thing on my mind with all that was happening.
Since we found this job, my life had become unbelievably complicated. I would rather go back to sleeping on the streets and being dirty than watch the one person I called family get sicker by the minute. Not to mention the added complication of hearing voices and seeing things. I tried not to think about it as I fiddled with pushing cups into the cup tube below the bar.
“Excuse me? Can you help me?”
I looked up to see a man standing on the other side of the counter watching me. My spit stuck in my throat when our eyes met, forcing me to cough.
There was something about those familiar aqua-blues that made my knees weak. Butterflies sprung to life in my belly, and then crashed and burned, somehow convinced that the man in front of me would evade my fascination and attraction for him just as he had before.
I cleared my throat. “Um, I might be able to.” I stumbled to stand up straight and knocked a pile of cups to the floor. He followed my every move with an eagle’s attention, his crystalline eyes glimmering under the low lights hanging above the bar. His gaze slowly shifted from my face down to my fidgety hands and then back again. The perfectly placed features of his face gave no hint of what was churning in his mind. “What can I do for you?”
He leaned in slightly, strands of gold in his dirty blonde hair shimmering to life under the light as it flowed in waves down to his shoulders. “I’m looking for someone. He’s older, short.” He smiled as if remembering something delightful about the person.
“Uh, I’m sorry, do you know a name? Is it someone who comes here often?”
“I believe he works here. Name is George.”
“I know him, but he’s not in today.” I was sure that I’d met everyone George knew, and I had only seen this man in the last few days. George didn’t recognize him when they passed each other on the steps the other day. “Can I leave him your name and number?”
“No. I really need to speak to him myself, Nevaeh. Can I go up and see him?”
I didn’t tell him my name. And how did he know George was upstairs?
My eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the man who seemed to know more about my father-figure and friend than he ought to. My wall of defenses began to raise against the alluring stranger. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned a hip into the bar. “What is it that you want with him?”
“I need to give him a message.” He grinned again. His bewitching smile weakened my resolve in its battle to protect me from his charm. My body shivered with a surge of excitement.
I quickly averted my eyes and shoved a few more cups into the already brimming cup tube. “If I can get your name, I’ll let him know you’re here.” I wasn’t about to let him up before getting some information first. “Sorry, but I can’t let you up to see him otherwise.”
His muscles tightened as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hesitating to respond. A white t-shirt strained against his well-formed chest when he inhaled deeply in contemplation. The black duster he wore covered the majority of his body, but there was no hiding the lean muscle and bound power underneath.
His posture grew rigid and serious. “Archard,” he exhaled.
“Okay, give me a minute.”
I left the mysterious man and headed toward the hall. As I rounded the corner, I backed up against the wall, staying out of sight, and watched him.
Fixed in his spot, he examined his surroundings very carefully. He never made eye contact with anyone or did anything to draw attention to himself. His clothes were plain and dulled his appeal, though not very well; the drabbest of clothing couldn’t take away from his cryptic magnetism. His appearance said he wanted to slide through life unnoticed, but his very nature wouldn’t allow it. I experienced a special kind of torture leaving his vicinity and tearing my eyes from him, so why was it nobody else seemed to notice he was even there?
I cursed his affect and continued down the hall, peeking my head into the kitchen along the way. “Has anyone seen Gavyn?”
One of the cooks jerked his chin towards the walk-in fridge.
I crossed through the kitchen and turned right into the back corridor. I passed the pantry on the right and stopped in front of the diamond-plated metal door just next to it. Latching my fingers around the handle, I tugged, breaking the heavy, steel door free of the vacuum that sealed it closed. Frigid swirls of air drifted out into the hall, forcing a shiver to crawl up my spine. I squinted into the hazy freezer and took a step forward. Gavyn stood, with his back to me, in front of Layla. I grinded my teeth together at the sight of her delicate arms snaking around his neck.
Layla cocked her head sideways, looking past Gavyn, and flashed me a sly smile. Chills puckered my skin, and it wasn’t because the freezer was cold. The intention behind her smile was clear as a bell, as well as her warming. She was marking her territory.
Gavyn grabbed her arms, untangled them from around his neck, and gently pushed her away. He spun around to find a wide-eyed statue of me, staring at them from the doorway. My heart threatened to betray me and fall to pieces.
“Sorry if I interrupted.” Jealousy bubbled to my surface. “I needed to talk to you for a sec, Gavyn.”
It was nearly impossible to pretend that it was normal for Layla to have him caged in her embrace. I told myself Gavyn was off limits. Yet, by Gavyn’s continuous attempts to end her flirtatious actions, I could see that the man she chased didn’t have the same feelings for her. Knowing that made it hard not to wonder what he might feel for me.
I didn’t want things to be this way. I hoped we would be close friends, but Layla obviously felt I was a threat—and maybe I was.
Gavyn looked back at Layla and shook his head, then squeezed by me with a box in his hands. Frustration radiated from his body as he went by. I stayed in the freezer, thinking there was something I could say to Layla that might make this better, to rid the nonsense that interfered with our friendship. Nothing came to mind though. Nothing seemed right.
Layla began gathering things off the shelves, ignoring me. Her eyes were full of rage and a nasty, sarcastic smile did a lousy job of hiding her anger. There wasn’t anything to mend between us, never was. She had her own agenda and no matter what, nothing with her was as it seemed.
I let the freezer door close behind me, leaving her in the cold where she belonged, and went to find Gavyn.
“What did you need, Nevaeh?” Gavyn asked, irritated when I caught up to him in the hall.
“There’s a guy up front wanting to talk to George. He said he has a message for him.”
His tone softened. “So what are you asking?”
“Well, I didn’t know if I should make up a story to keep him away, or if I should let him see George. It just seems very…strange. I know all of George’s friends, and I’ve never seen him before coming to the café. I don’t want to let some crazy person up into your apartment only to have him upset George.”
He paused for a few seconds before responding, “Go ask George if he knows him, or if he even feels like visitors. If he wants to see him, then let him up.” He walked away before I could say anything else.
I climbed the stairs and thought about Gavyn’s behavior, feeling a little hurt. Why was I so upset about this? It’s not like I had a thing with him. On the other hand, I felt like I could grow to trust this man—maybe as much as I trusted George.
I entered the apartment, straining to see until my eyes adjusted to the dim room. The sun’s light had moved to the rear of the building, casting half the room in a fading yellow and the other half in a heavy shadow.
George was quiet and still. My stomach knotted. My chest tightened with a burst of panic. I walked over to the couch and touched his shoulder. “George?”
He didn’t answer.
Gulping back a sob, I pulled the covers down to look at his face. “George, are you awake?” His complexion was pale and sheer, revealing the tiny veins spreading beneath its surface like a map of endless red rivers. The series of shallow, erratic breaths blew from his mouth. I exhaled, relieved by the strangled sound.
A voice in the back of my head kept whispering to me, telling me to take him to the hospital. And though I knew I should listen, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Maybe it was because I couldn’t disobey his wishes. He hated hospitals, and I knew it would be a fight to get him there. Or maybe I was just too afraid to admit that George might not pull out of this.
I jiggled his shoulder, and his eyes fluttered open. “There’s a man downstairs wanting to talk to you. His name is Archard. Do you know him?”
“Archard? No, don’t know ‘im,” he slurred in a sleepy daze. His heavy eyelids shut, and a small puff of air blew out of his mouth in a light snore, signaling that he was dozing off again.
I gave him another gentle shake. “He said he has a message. Do you want me to send him up?”
With his eyes remaining closed, George mumbled, “Sure.”
Watching him fade in and out so easily was difficult. It was so unlike him. I was still a little unsure about letting a stranger up, considering George didn’t exactly seem lucid enough to make logical decisions, but it wasn’t my choice to make.
I let him fall back to sleep and hurried out of Gavyn’s apartment, taking two steps at a time as I descended his stairwell. I set into a slow jog down the hallway, my heart racing at the thought of seeing Archard, again. My skin tingled when I neared the end to the hall. My body reacted so strongly to him, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.
I slowed my pace and sauntered back into the café, finding Archard right where I left him.
“Is he ready for me?” He moved gracefully across the floor in my direction.
“Look Mister, I don’t know who you are or what business you have with my father, but I’m willing to let you speak with him. Just understand that he is very sick right now, and I don’t want you upsetting him. If you do, I will personally remove you myself.”
He didn’t know that George
wasn’t
my father, and it gave me an edge. Unfortunately, we both knew he was too strong for me to remove him from anything, but I let him think it over anyway.
“Nevaeh, I come as a friend and wouldn’t do anything to upset him—“
“And how the hell do you know my name?” I interrupted, agitated by his creepy know-all ability.
“Does it matter?” The cool, collected stranger arched an eyebrow and waited expectantly for me to answer.
“Yeah. Kinda,” I spat back with the cockiest attitude I could muster.
“It won’t change anything. Will you take me to him now?” His tone was too quiet, too gentle.
He peered into my eyes and smiled as he side-stepped me, gliding towards the hall. A surge of electricity flowed through my body for the split second our paths crossed. I gasped, stunned by the sensation that didn’t appear to affect him in any way. Gathering my wits, I jogged ahead and ushered him toward Gavyn’s apartment—even though he had completely pissed me off with his dismissive answers and calm attitude; even though he did unexplainable things to me just by being near.