Chapter Text
Saturday October 2, way too early in the morning
Your hand fumbles awkwardly for the alarm clock when the incessant beeping finally filters through your sleep fogged brain. You're back to sleep before you tap snooze, but not ten seconds later it seems, the alarm is sounding again. There are several confusing moments as you try to find the off button, and when the annoying sound finally shuts off, you wonder when you're ever going to listen to the you who doesn't encourage you to drink coffee after 11pm.
Probably never.
Heaving a sigh, you finally open your eyes and turn towards the clock.
It reads 6:29.
“Oh crap!” A surge of adrenaline slams into your chest as you lunge for your phone, almost launching the cat across the room.
“I’m sorry Jorts,” You croak, but the cat’s already hissing off towards the living room.
You shake the pants out of the pile of clothes you’d thrown together the night before as you dial Sevika's number.
You jam the phone against your shoulder. “Hi Sevika I’m so sorry I have no idea what happened I didn’t hear my alarm go off but I’m getting ready right now I swear I’ll be there in fifteen minutes and-”
“Woah woah woah, relax! It’s alright.”
You freeze with one foot jammed in your pant leg. Your horror slides quickly into confusion. “It is?”
“I got you covered, and you don’t have to come in till 3. Silco gave me a call last night and told me to switch your shift. I sent you a text.”
"Oh." You sit back on the bed, stunned. “He did?"
"Yep."
"Why?”
“He’s the boss. He doesn’t have to give a reason and I don’t ask questions. It works out for me anyway. I messed up the schedule and put two newbies together for close, and I would have felt like an ass calling you in again to do the drawer.”
The adrenaline is fading, but your mind is now racing at a hundred miles an hour as you flop back onto your pillow. “Yeah, that really worked out.”
“Well since I've got you here, I wanted to ask if you could make a quick meeting with me tonight after close. It shouldn’t take more than 5 minutes.”
“Uh huh.”
“Great. Now get back to bed. You sound like hell.”
You stifle a yawn. “I feel like it too. Night. I mean bye, thanks.”
You can just hear her throaty chuckle as you hang up. You don’t quite understand what’s going on, and quite frankly, you’re too tired to try and figure it out. You set a new alarm for noon and struggle out of the pant leg before flopping back into bed. As you roll onto your side and close your eyes, you wonder if the week could possibly get any stranger.
Saturday OCTOBER 2, Evening
It’s a busy night at The Last Drip.
But the extra sleep seems to have done wonders for your mood, and you don’t even have to fight to keep a pleasant expression on your face after the fifth customer comes back with the bathroom key to tell you that it doesn’t work.
You head through the side doors and insert the key into the bottom keyhole (The one that’s clearly marked “Please use this keyhole”), upon which the knob immediately gives way. As you push open the door for the sheepish customer, you’re reminded that people often approach reading like they approach the rules of the road.
Meant for thee and not for me.
“Oh haha wow! I didn’t see that. I must be more tired than I thought.”
“It’s alright, it happens all the time.”
You hum while you put the key back on the peg located next to the community board. You glance at the “Meet our Staff!”, which decorates the top of the chalkboard in large, playful letters. The writing is familiar, and you wonder vaguely if Jinx was the one who wrote it.
A collection of mini polaroids are lined up beneath the heading, and you automatically find yours taped somewhere in the middle of the lineup. It was taken on your first day at The Last Drip, and you’re standing behind the register wearing your favorite Bowie t-shirt and an awkward smile.
The picture gives you a strange feeling. When you first started working for Sevika you’d been at the bottom of the food chain, but it hadn’t been long before you'd been elevated to the top. That could be attributed to the fact that you were at least eight years older than the majority of your coworkers, and Sevika naturally looked to you to lead the team. It could also have been because most of the kids who came through only stayed six months or so before moving on, so you became a lead based solely on your ability to last longer than anybody else.
But maybe, just maybe, a part of it was because you really do pay attention.
Guess you haven’t been doing as much coasting as you thought.
“You know what, Sherri? I think I’m going to take my thirty. Can you and Jefferson hold down the fort till I get back?”
“Yeah for sure, we got it. What are we pulling at?”
“18 even.”
“Cool.”
After receiving two thumbs up you hang up your apron, grab your sweatshirt, and make for the exit. The sun’s just beginning to drop below the city skyline when you step outside, casting purple shadows across the cracked sidewalks. There’s a slight chill in the air, and you jam your hands into your pockets as you head down the street. There’s an alley nearby that’s filled with street food vendors on the weekends, and the Korean Fusion Truck is one of your favorite haunts.
You add a side of kimchi fries to your usual bowl of bibimbap, and quickly find a table nearby. A contented sigh escapes you after you stuff the first steaming handful of fries into your mouth, but you barely have time to take a second bite before a flash of blue drops onto the chair next to you with an enthusiastic, “Hiya toots!”
“Hey, Jinx!”
Today the girl is dressed in a dress reminiscent of Wednesday Addams, her hair still in braids. She’s carrying a coffin shaped purse and wearing a smile way too cheerful for the amount of black smudged liner on her lids.
“What are you doing here?”
She waves her hand. “The real question is, when can you come to the studio? I’m blocked and desperate for a distraction.”
“Blocked? Since yesterday?”
“The artistic muse is fickle. Besides, nobody else wants to watch HalloweenTown with me and I’m pretty sure you will.”
“Well you’re absolutely right about that.”
“I knew it,” She grabs a handful of your fries and munches on them distractedly. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Well my sister is getting home from a trip tonight and we made plans. But I work open on Monday.”
“Hm. You know I used to have a sister too, but she died when I was a kid.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
She licks her fingers and shrugs. “It’s whatever. Life sucks, you go through a thousand losses and mental breakdowns, and then you die, right?”
Before you can even begin to figure out how to answer, she’s bouncing back. “At least I’ve got Silco. And Sevika! Although she’s more like a reluctant aunt since she's almost as old as he is. How old are you?”
“Twenty eight.”
“Dude, seriously? That means you’re like, ten years older than me! And ten years younger than Sevika, and fifteen years younger than Silco.”
That means Silco’s… 43?
“Huh.”
“Yeah, I know. He’s super old, right?”
The sudden, striking image of Silco leaning up against a counter flashes across your mind. His sleeves are rolled up, his hair is fashionably askew, and a smirk is tugging up at the corner of his scarred lips.
“I wouldn’t say that,” You reply, hoping she can’t see the heat flushing your cheeks. “When you’re young age matters, but the older you get what it really boils down to is life experience.”
“Sure, whatever,” She holds out her hand. “I need your phone real quick.”
You pass it over without thinking.
Besides, women seem to reach peak maturity faster than men do.
You take another handful of fries, thinking. While Silco might be literally 15 years older than you, he may only figuratively be a few years ahead. Of course his life experience still needs to be taken into account, but his past can’t be as wildly criminal as everybody seems to believe.
Can it?
The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it.
“What did Silco do before he was director of ZCC?”
“Something to do with the military. That’s where he met Sevika. And that’s how he got landed with me.”
She throws up a peace sign.
Now that she's mentioned it, you could definitely see Sevika as ex-military. But you can’t help wondering how she went from military operations to managing The Last Drip. And what about Silco? What exactly did he do? And what does he do now, for that matter?
Whatever it is, he certainly seems to have his fingers in a lot of pies.
“There, I had you text me so I have your number.”
You blink as she shoves your phone back into your hand. “Thanks. So, what have you got going on today?”
“I just got out of class, and I need to buy some stuff for a super secret project I’m working on. Have you been to The Lanes Warehouse? They have so many art supplies there it literally makes me want to scream.”
“I went a few times when I was in school, but that was years ago.”
“Well we should go together. You can learn a lot about a person based on what kinds of art supplies they buy. Or the kinds of weapons they prefer, but that’s a question for another day.” She takes one gulp of your drink before knocking you in the shoulder. “Well I gotta run and see the old man about a gun. Thanks for sharing your stuff! See ya toots!”
And just like that she’s gone.
You reach for your fries with a bemused smile, only to realize that they’ve all been eaten. You don’t quite have the heart to be mad at Jinx. She’s given you a lot to think about, and you spend the rest of your lunch, and the final hours of your shift, creating even more hairbrained theories about Silco’s past than Connor.
You finish closing in record time, and climb the stairs up to Sevika’s office. She’s clipping a cigaretto when you appear, and she beckons you inside as she lights the tip.
You have time to settle before she’s finished puffing out a few clouds of aromatic smoke.
“Alright, so I’ll keep this brief. Silco’s finally come to his senses and is handing the brewery expansion project over to me.”
The brewery expansion.
Sevika may have mentioned the project once or twice (or a hundred times) over the last year. Her favorite topic of conversation is to bring up all the ways that the current project manager is an idiot.
“Congratulations.”
She looks pleased. “If everything goes according to plan, I’ll be transferring to head of operations starting in November. Which is why I want to start handing the responsibilities of The Last Drip over to you, if you want them.”
You stare at her, dumbfounded.
“It would make my life a hell of a lot simpler having someone I trust take on the day-to-day responsibilities of the shop while I figure out the mess Chuck’s made of the contract. And let’s face it, you’ve been doing most of that leg work for the last few months anyway.”
Your head is spinning. “You want me to manage The Last Drip?”
She nods, tobacco and spices spilling from her mouth in heavy plumes. “To start you won’t be doing much more than you are now, but you’ll officially be the new point of contact for the team, take the lead on training, and do all the ordering. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re more than prepared to take the reins when the time comes.”
She leans forward to flick the ash into the tray on her desk, then hisses and makes a grab for her shoulder. At your questioning look she jerks her head.
“It’s this damn rain. It gets between the plates and my skin and makes my bones ache.”
Her jacket sleeve pulls away from her glove as she reaches into the top drawer of her desk, giving you a view of her prosthetic. The gold coated carbon fiber arm is some kind of fancy prototype that’s been attached to the nerves in her shoulder so her hand and fingers are fully articulating. Thinking about it now, it seems like an expensive prosthesis.
Must have been a parting gift from the military.
She pulls out a bottle and pours herself a glass of amber colored liquid before fishing two small purple pills out of her pocket. The pills and the drink are gone in three seconds flat.
“You know, I’ve been trying to convince Silco to give me the brewery project ever since he brought it to the table. I don’t know what you said to him last night, but whatever it was, it made one hell of an impression.”
"Oh," A blush blotches your cheeks as you remember every single stupid thing you said.
If by ‘impression’ she means you did your best impersonation of a looney tunes character, then yeah.
"I’m sure I made a huge impression.”
She smirks. “Look, Silco doesn’t trust just anybody. If he wants you to run a branch of his business, that means he saw something in you that he likes, and that doesn’t happen too often.”
You blink in surprise. “Wait, Silco wants me to run The Last Drip?”
“It was his idea.”
It’s a lot to take in at once. "I don’t know what to say. But thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You still have a shit ton of boring ass training videos to watch, and they’re all on floppy disks, if you’re even old enough to know what those are.”
“Yeah, I am. I mean, I do know what they are.”
“Good, that saves me a lot of time,” She leans back with a satisfied smile. “Silco was right, you’re the obvious choice. I’m just mad I didn’t think about promoting you earlier. I could’ve been spending the last couple months getting drunk tasting craft beers instead of having my blood pressure ruined by a bunch of snot-nosed college kids.”
“Well I’m glad I can help you out with that.”
“You’ll start your training in November. I’ll have you shadow me in the office a few times a week, and you’ll see a change in your wage. Any questions?”
You shake your head.
“Good. Now get out of here so I can drink my brandy in peace.”
You walk slowly to your car.
For so long you’ve been feeling stuck and without a purpose, as if the coffee shop was just some random hiding place you limped into to lick your wounds after life knocked you down. But now it seems like it was exactly where you were supposed to be all along.
You’re going to manage The Last Drip.
And on Silco’s orders, no less.
The entire drive home you try to recall what he might have seen in you that inspired such confidence.
Nothing comes to mind.
By the time you push open the door to your apartment you’re tired of thinking and in need of a distraction. That distraction quickly takes the form of epic music and sounds of clashing battle coming from the living room.
Allie.
The sound suddenly cuts off as you drop your keys on the counter.
“Hey, whaddup!”
“Hey. Do my ears deceive me, or are you actually playing Horizon?”
When you step around the wall, you spy your sister on the couch. She's in her signature sweatpants, and her purple hair is in a messy bun on top of her head. She's got a ramen bowl in one tattooed hand, and a Playstation controller in the other. The cats are curled up on either side of her, purring.
She looks sheepish. “Yeah. I had a walk-in client yesterday who wanted Aloy’s bow tattooed on her forearm, and I figured it was probably a sign for me to give it a shot.”
“Good pun. 10 out of 10.”
“Honestly, that wasn’t even on purpose.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
It only took you three years to convince your sister to play Horizon Zero Dawn, and of course you knew she’d love it. You’d have to be insane not to love a game about a post-apocalyptic viking bossbabe fighting metal dinosaurs (In your opinion).
Allie stuffs her face with noodles before mumbling. “How’s work been? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages.”
“Good. I’m going to start training to be a manager in November.”
“What? Dude, that's amazing!”
You drop down on the edge of the sofa. “Thanks. I still can’t believe it.”
“Why not? You’ve been there for ages. Besides, most of the people who visit think you own the place.”
“No they don’t.”
“Yes they do! Don’t you read the yelp reviews?”
“No. Wait, do you mean to tell me that you’ll spend time looking at yelp reviews for the shop, but you’re too busy to respond to my text messages?”
“Okay I’m sorry but I don’t have to respond back to every single meme you send me.”
“But memes are my love language.”
“Wow. You seriously need to get more friends.”
“Rude!”
“But true.”
You huff. “Well for your information I just made one yesterday. Her name’s Jinx. She’s Silco’s daughter.”
That name has an instantaneous effect.
Her mouth drops open. “Hold on a second. Silco’s daughter? Does that mean you’ve finally met him?”
“Dude, seriously? Did you just open the messages I sent today so they were put on ‘read’?”
Her guilty expression is telling. “Your texts were like a mile long and I was really busy packing! Then Marcus called on video chat and I talked to him on the drive home…”
“Wait, Marcus? You mean awkward Marcus, the one you said had a boring stick up his butt?”
“I might have exaggerated a little bit. He's not horribly boring. And he's kinda cute, so I think he's got some potential.”
“Didn’t he forget his wallet on your first date?”
“Yeah, but he apologized a ton and made up for it by paying for everything on the second date. Even the drinks. And it turns out Marcus and I both love solving puzzles, so we’re going to go do an escape room next weekend. You should come with us!”
She’s trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a familiar, starry look in her eye.
You bury a sigh.
Here we go again.
It’s not that you don’t like escape rooms, but you know your sister, and you know that if you go you’ll be the third wheel on what’s sure to be the most awkward date in history. Still, you're curious to see what made her change her mind about him. He must have seriously upped his game to land himself a second and third date after such a horrible first.
“Alright.”
She pumps her fist. “Heck yes! It’s gonna be so much fun, I swear.”
I guess we’ll find out.
She takes another bite of noodles. “Now, Silco. What’s he like, really?”
“I don’t know. He's ex-military, so I think he's used to, you know... commanding people. But he's also very polite and observant and intelligent.”
“So, you still think he’s still sexy now that you’ve met him in person or…?”
“What? I never said I thought he was sexy!”
“Well maybe not in so many words, but it was always heavily implied. Also you’re blushing, so case and point.”
“I’m not blushing,” You lie, definitely blushing. “It’s just really hot in here.”
“It’s alright sis. Just open your arms wide and embrace the crush.”
“Come on Allie, you know I can’t do that. He’s my boss! And he’s 43!”
“43’s not that old. Marcus is almost 40. And anyway, women are usually way more mature than men so age doesn’t really matter.”
Weren't you just having this conversation with Jinx?
You pinch the bridge of your nose to stave off the odd sense of deja vu. “I’m not saying it does, but I just became friends with his 17 year old daughter so that makes it a little weird.”
“But she’s not his real daughter right?”
You heave a sigh. “I don’t know why I thought I’d get good relationship advice from my hopeless romantic of a sister.”
“You probably told me because deep down you secretly want the encouragement.”
“Ugh, stop, please!”
“Fine. You’re right I’m sorry. I'll stop.”
“Thank you.”
The silence stretches.
“So I guess that means he’s sexy, right?”
You release a groan and throw your face into the nearest pillow.
“I knew it.”