Page 81 of Famous for a Living

Mark, Zaiah, and I stand in a row by the window, arms over our chests as we watch until his truck’s headlights reach the end of the road and turn.

Eventually, Mina clears her throat behind us. “He seemed really nice—”

“We will talk more about this when we get home,” I say.

I spin around to Kevin. “And you.”

The lecture lasts for several minutes, Mark steadily refilling my coffee as I slosh it around with “And another thing!”

Going over the basics of stranger danger. Cuing in on the signs of stage-five creepiness. And overall, just telling Kevin to man up.

The horror stories to back up the warnings aren’t hard to find; I just scoop from the top of the bin in my memory.

By the time I’m done I realize the shop has quieted down significantly.

The espresso machine grinds quietly for a single customer.

The snow outside the window has stopped.

The room is nearly empty.

“Right.” I lower my finger at Mina and Kevin, who look like scolded puppies. I reach in my pocket and give Mina my debit card. “Now go get yourselves hot cocoas for the ride home. I’ll be right there.”

The two skirt off, and as they do so, I turn around.

Zaiah and Mark are still here.

“Sorry,” I say a bit sheepishly. My face is hot. “I just . . . They needed to get a little reality check.”

“You’re a good breed, Cat Cranwell.” Mark tips the rest of the coffee in the carafe into my mug. “You’ll always be welcome in my establishment.”

I laugh. It was nice to feel so openly welcomed. So openly liked for being, well, me.

“Thanks, Mark. All creeps aside, I think you have the finest shop in town. I fully intend to come down more often.”

“Excellent,” he says, his grin broadening. “We need a designated bouncer.”

His eyes flick from me to Zaiah.

For a moment, there’s silence.

And then he nods, a respectful sort of nod, and wheels backward. “I’d better go start breaking down the machine. See you soon, Cat. Zaiah, don’t be a stranger. It’s nice having you around again.”

As Mark wheels off, picking up leftover coffee mugs from tables as he goes, Zaiah turns to me. His voice is quiet. There’s a respect in his voice I haven’t heard before. “You’ve had quite a few scrapes in life. I wouldn’t have expected you to be so . . .”

“Street-smart?” I say, filling in the gaps. “Yeah. Well. You kind of have to be if you’re going to do what I do. Take the good with the bad.”

“How do you sleep at night?” His question is sincere. Curious.

I laugh. “With three security guards, five locks between me and outside, and a hidden panic button GPS on my wrist.”

He gives a curious smile, and I pull up my sleeve. Show him the charm bracelet with the button attached. “I’ve only had to use it once, but it’s handy. Calls the police straightaway and gives them your location.”

The smile in his eyes dies away.

“It’s not that expensive, really.” I shrug my sleeve down. “And frankly, given what I saw tonight, you can bet I’ll be gifting Mina with one.”

Zaiah gives a breathy chuckle. “Seems you’ve given a lot for this job of yours.”