Page 28 of The Comfort Trap

Broken Open

Patrick [NOW]

Thecaféisaghost town when I finally finish counting thetill, the last of the caffeine addicts having stumbled out into the night an hour ago. Gabriel, a scrawny newer guy who's somehow become my favorite right after Aubrey, is already by the door. His hoodie is up, earbuds are in, looking like he's about to vibrate right out of his own skin with impatience.

He's good at his job, I'll give him that. He’s efficient, quick on the draw with the espresso machine, always smiling, doesn't cry when some asshole spills his latte all over the counter. A goddamn angel.

I'm wiping down the last of the stainless steel, watching my reflection blur and distort like some funhouse mirror version of myself, when Gabriel walks up to me.

"Hey, boss," he whispers. "There's... someone outside."

I sigh, not even looking up. "It's LA. There's always someone outside."

"No, I mean... there's someone sitting there. In a car. Been there for like, twenty minutes. It's giving me the creeps." He bites his lip, his eyes wide. "My boyfriend made me watchTerrifierlast night and I swear to God, if I go out there and some clown is gonna jump me with a hacksaw—"

I finally straighten up, tossing my rag onto the counter with more force than necessary.

"You carry mace?"he asks.

"I have a knife," I say, patting my pocket where the butterfly knife I've carried since I was fifteen rests. Old habits die hard. "What kind of car?"

He points a trembling finger toward the window. "It's shiny. Andhe's revving itloud."

My stomach does that stupid little flip it always does when I think about Ricardo and his ridiculous car. I move to stand beside Gabriel, peering through the glass into the dimly lit parking lot.

And there it is. Ricardo's baby. A gleaming chrome beast that looks like it was designed by a god with a serious hard-on for speed and aesthetics. Even in the dim parking lot lights, it's unmistakable.

"Oh," I say, the sound barely audible. "That's my boyfriend, Ricky."

Gabriel's eyes widen even further. "Your boyfriend? I like his car... Why is he just sitting there?"

I pull out my phone, fumbling with the screen. No missed calls. No texts. I’m staring at the same lock screen of us at that stupid flea market last year, me scowling while he grins like an idiot with some vintagehatperched on his head.

"I have no fucking clue," I mutter, my mind already racing through possibilities. Car trouble? Surprise visit? I stuff the phone back in my pocket.

"Alright, Gabriel. You're good to go. I’ll lock up in a second."

He looks relieved, practically sprinting for the door. "Thank you. See you tomorrow!"

The bell above the door chimes as he scurries out, his footsteps echoing in the sudden silence. I watch him for a moment, then turn my attention back to the car. To Ricardo.

I take a deep breath, the scent of burnt coffee and cleaning supplies filling my lungs. Time to go find out what kind of fresh hell awaits me.

Gabriel's beat-to-shit Honda sputters out of the parking lot, and I'm halfway to Ricardo's chrome monstrosity when the driver's door aggressively swings open.

"Hey, baby, what's—"

"Get back inside."

The words hit me like a slap. "What?"

"Get back inside," he repeats, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Now."

My brain's still trying to process this whiplash-inducing turn of events. "Oh. Okay." I turn on my heel, my keys jangling in my hand as I head back to the café door. The bell chimes its irritating little tune as I swing it open.

"I'm basically ready to go, I just needed to set the alarm and lock up." I glance at the clock on the wall. "It's not even late or anything—"

Click.