Chapter 4 - Honey, I'm Home!

The coffee was lukewarm by the time it hit her face. Samantha just stood there, drenched in bitter-smelling coffee that slid down her cheek and dripped into her collar, soaking through her apron.

Behind the counter, a couple of regulars gasped. Meanwhile, the table of guys howled with laughter as they pounded on the table, nearly spilling their drinks. The couch girl twirled her empty cup in her manicured fingers and her lips stretched into a cruel, smug smile.

“Oops, sorry”, she giggled, not sounding sorry at all. “I just had to return the favour. It’s not so fun when you’re the one soaked in coffee, is it?”

Couch girl wasn’t done yet. She leaned across the table, partly so that she could give the guys a good view of her cleavage in her tiny crop top, but also so she could lower her voice and whisper, like she was telling a delicious secret.

“You know what, boys? Her boyfriend practically begged me to take over. Poor thing was starved, so I gave him something to eat, if you know what I mean. Or what was I supposed to do? Say no?”

The guys snorted and jeered, elbowing each other. One of them leaned forward, smirking at Sam’s soaked shirt. “Damn. Jason ditched her for you? Can’t blame him though.”

Another guy squinted at her soaked shirt with a sly grin on his lips. “Looks like she finally loosened up, huh?”

Sam’s jaw locked so tight her teeth ached. She wanted to scream, she wanted to lunge across the table, wrap her hands tight around that girl’s throat, and never let go.

But she couldn’t. She had rent, bills, her parents' debts, and this shitty job was the only thing keeping her afloat.

So she remained there, the coffee dripping off her chin, her smile brittle while her insides burned. Of course, the manager averted his eyes, refusing to intervene because “The customers are always right.”

“Clean up our table and get us something else to drink. Okay, babes?” said the girl to Samantha, as she gestured at the mess on the table with her hands.

Samantha lifted her tray, balanced the empty cups on it, then walked away. She lasted the rest of her shift without a word, and the minute the clock hit closing, she yanked off her apron, slapped it down on the counter, and walked out, couch girl’s laugh ringing behind her.

Her phone pinged as she stood at a bus stop and waited for the next bus. Another rejection email. We regret to inform you… We regret... We regret.

She gazed up at the moon, her childhood dream and obsession that slipped further and further away with every denial. She told herself she’d make it someday, but then days stretched into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years, yet still no one would fund her. No one believed in her enough to give her a chance.

She bit her bottom lip raw, chewing until the metallic taste of blood replaced the bitterness of failure and shame. She didn’t bring any spare clothes to work,  so the coffee stain stood out on her white shirt, already smelling stale.

Her phone rang, buzzing so violently that it rattled in her pocket and broke the silence.

She almost didn’t answer, because she wasn’t in the mood for it. But she knew the number; it was her brother.

“Sam!” His voice exploded the second she picked up. “You gotta help me. I fucked up, I fucked up bad.”

Her throat tightened. “What did you do this time, Ben?”

“I need money.” His voice was hoarse, panicked. “I lost fifty-six grand at the craps table, okay? The mob’s after me, Sam. They want their money. They’ll kill me, Sam. They’ll kill me!”

Her knees went weak, and she pressed a hand against the wall to steady herself. “Fifty-six thousand? Are you insane?”

“You don’t understand!” He was shouting frantically. “These people don’t play around. They’ll cut me up, Sam, then they’ll dump me in a river. Please. You have to help me. You have savings, don’t you? Please, you’re all I have.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she hissed. “I don’t even have enough to cover my own rent most months! Fifty-six thousand? I couldn’t get that if I sold myself into slavery.”

“Don’t say that!” His voice cracked, shifting from fury to desperation.

“You have savings!” he shouted over the phone, “I know you do! Mom would’ve helped me if she could, but she’s sick all the time, so she can’t go to work, and neither can Dad. It’s on you. You’re supposed to take care of me!”

“What the hell, Ben?! How the hell did you manage to lose all that money gambling?!”

 “Please, Sam. You’re all I have. You don’t want me to die, do you? You don’t want to see your brother’s body in some ditch?”

Her breath stuttered. She stepped off the curb and into the street without thinking, as his desperate voice filled her ears.

A car screeched, swerving so close to her that the mirror grazed her arm. Sam jerked back and stumbled; her phone nearly slipped from her hand. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and her whole body trembled with shock.

Her brother was still crying in her ear. “Please, please, please, I’ll pay you back, I swear!”

She hung up.

Her head was spinning by the time she climbed the stairs to her apartment, her body moving on autopilot. She kept thinking of numbers, the pathetic total in her savings account. Even if she drained it, even if she stopped eating and started triple shifts, she couldn’t make a dent in fifty-six thousand.

She heard the faint sound of a drill coming from her apartment. What was that?

She pushed her key into the lock, but the door was already unlocked. Fearfully, she shoved the door open to investigate.

Sitting in her chair, legs stretched out like he owned the place, his suit jacket folded over the armrest, was Jason.

He lifted his eyes slowly to meet hers, then smiled.

“Miss me?”