Iswallowed back the thick sludge of bile this place called coffee. It wasn’t the worst cup I’d had. That award went to the Morningside Café in a little town outside of Detroit. This vile drivel was a close second. Couldn’t really expect more in a town like Worthington.
They had three restaurants–if you could call them that–none of which could cook an egg to save their life. The one down the street did, at least, have a tolerable brew though.
Then again, I wasn’t here for the coffee.
The portly waitress with a pencil in her bun beamed down at me. “Can I get you a menu?”
Her name tag decorated with sparkly flower stickers and a fake ruby pin made me tsk. Flo. The name was fitting. Everything in this town seemed to be stuck in the fifties. The streetlamps, architecture, and even the people. Like Flo, with her curly red hair and too much make-up.
“Would you like to hear the specials? My personal favorite is the beef stew.”
Her bright red lips parted, spewing more menu choices, none of which I was interested in. I’d be safer digging through the dumpster than eating anything the overweight cook with a nicotine addiction had put his hands on.
I slid my mug over. “Just a refill.”
Flo did her dutiful job, tipping the steaming pot in her hand to refill my mug. That happy sunshine spark in her rosy cheek would call to Tobias.
He liked his women thicker than my other brothers and I. Claimed they could handle more. A valuable asset for a woman to have when it came to the youngest Cordoza.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
Simplicity should not be encouraged. So, rather than answer Flo’s question, I arched a brow. Anyone with eyes could see I didn’t belong here. The Brioni suit I was wearing was worth more than the vehicles I saw driving down the street.
“Not much of a talker, are you?” Flo hummed, “That’s alright. I suppose there’s something to be said about a little mystery. But just between you and me, all mysteries are meant to be solved.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded. “In my experience, it’s the quiet ones that want to be seen the most.” She tipped her chin and gave me an inquisitive smile. “I bet you have all kinds of secrets, just waiting to be discovered.”
Flo should be careful. Digging around in closets was dangerous. She might find herself in a situation far worse than any skeleton she stumbled across.
“I don’t think you’re related to anyone in town. I would’ve heard about someone like you.” She paused to give me a quick scan, lingering a little on my arms and chest.
The corner of my mouth lifted at the pink hue flashing through her cheeks. Flo liked what she saw. Most women did. My dark hair, olive complexion, and light eyes called to the weaker sex. They flocked to me like moths to a flame. So blinded by beauty, they didn’t know it was too late until they got burned.
“Do you have a friend in town?”
I sighed, slightly annoyed by her persistent prodding. “No.”
“I didn’t think so. If you’re born in Worthington, you die in Worthington.” Her hand twirled through the air. “I know every single person in this town. Who they’re dating, what they do on Saturday nights, and all their bad habits.”
Most people in these little clutches of populace thought they knew their neighbors. They grew up with the kid down the street, so naturally they’d know if he was up to no good. All those true crime documentaries made me shake my head. Some woman claiming,‘He always seemed so normal, mowing his lawn and walking his dogs’.
Would people never learn? No one ever truly knew who someone was. I’d bet my luxury jet that Flo had no idea what her esteemed mayor was up to behind closed doors.
Her curious eyes roamed over my open laptop. “Are you here on business?”
“You could say that,” I said, clicking the laptop closed.
“What kind of business are you in?”
Curious kittens didn’t last long in my world. Neither did busy Betty’s that enjoyed spreading gossip, and Flo appeared to be both.
“I obtain and distribute product.”
That product being pretty young women, and sometimes men. Much like the tiny redhead I delivered to the mayor two days before. My eldest brother, Jackson, found her on the streets of New York sucking dick behind dumpsters for her next hit.
Those were the simple targets. Coaxed into following with the mere promise of a dime bag. Nice and easy, Jackson called them. I called them boring. Addicts were already broken.
