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KENNEDY HAD NEVER SEEN a drive-up coffee hut like this before, but Willow told her they were all over the state. “I read online that if you took every stand in Alaska and stacked them from one point to the other, they would stretch all the way from Anchorage to Santa Barbara.”
Kennedy wasn’t so sure about that, but she could at least appreciate the convenience of grabbing a hot drink without having to get out of the car. Willow rolled down her window long enough to give her order then shut it again to keep out the cold.
Kennedy was surprised to see the girl inside was wearing nothing but tight shorts and a tank top. “She must be freezing.”
“Don’t worry, she’s probably got a couple space heaters in there. I’m sure she’s perfectly toasty.”
Kennedy tried not to stare while the young girl mixed their drinks.
Willow raised her eyebrows at her. “Sheesh. Haven’t you heard of a bikini barista before? They’re all over Anchorage. That’s why these coffee stands make such good money.”
“So they get paid to look pretty in their swimsuits?”
“No, they get paid to make coffee. They get tips for looking pretty in their swimsuits.”
Willow was joking, but Kennedy didn’t think it was all that funny. “Isn’t that dangerous? I mean, it’s the middle of the night, totally dark. She’s out here all alone ...”
Willow laughed. “First of all, that’s a perfect example of rape culture right there. Second, she’s an Alaska chick. Probably packs more heat than that police detective back in Boston. Don’t be so uptight. In the past five years, there’s only been one barista kidnapping.”
“Only one?” Kennedy repeated sarcastically.
“Really sad story, actually. She grew up in Valdez, girl named Brandy. We knew each other from a few summer theater programs. Anyway, don’t worry, she didn’t even work at one of the bikini ones.”
Willow rolled down her window to grab the two drinks. Kennedy kept her eyes on the dashboard.
“Oh, stop being all weird about it,” Willow said as they drove off. “That barista’s probably a straight-A student like you, working one or two late nights a week and earning enough in tips to pay for her entire college education.”
They arrived at the theater two minutes before starting time. As they hurried through the parking lot, the air stung Kennedy’s face, and she wondered how she’d handle Copper Lake, which was regularly thirty degrees colder or more than Anchorage.
Kennedy had never seen her roommate get so engrossed in a film before, especially not one with such canned dialogue and stiff acting as this one. Forty minutes into the movie, Kennedy found herself nodding off as many times as the camera changed its angle. She shouldn’t have gotten a plain hot chocolate at the drive-up stand, not if her goal was to stay awake. She should either stop fighting her fatigue and squeeze in an hour-long nap or run out to the lobby and grab herself something more caffeinated. It didn’t matter which she chose. Either option would be preferable to sitting here jerking herself awake every two or three minutes.
The main character was explaining the rapture to the perky love interest when Kennedy leaned over and whispered to Willow, “I’m going to grab a drink. Be right back.”
Not surprisingly, the theater was almost empty. Kennedy didn’t have to worry about stepping over anybody’s legs or distracting any viewers behind her.
She stopped by the bathroom on the way to the concession stand and splashed cold water on her face. She could travel across twelve time zones a couple times a year and manage not to turn into a zombie. With a little gumption and a whole lot of caffeine, she could make it through the rest of this film.
She stared at her reflection, wondering what strangers thought when they saw her. She wasn’t like Willow, never was one to stand out in a crowd. Not that she wanted to. She thought back to her first international flight by herself two and a half years ago. Straight out of high school, never suspecting the trials she’d have to walk through. She still didn’t feel all that old, but she was definitely more mature than she’d been when she first stepped foot on the campus of Harvard University.
The same university that last semester had humiliated her, taken away her job as a teaching assistant, and threatened her medical school acceptance when all she’d done was write an article that certain people didn’t like. She might have never gotten her offer reinstated if it hadn’t been for her friend, Ian. The red-haired journalist had championed tirelessly for her before hopping on a plane to China to continue with his filming.
She hadn’t heard from him since, which shouldn’t disappoint her all that much. They’d only had a few breakfast dates together, not enough to know if there really was any spark or chemistry between them. Still, she’d thought he would at least text or email her from overseas, even just to let her know he was still safe.
She sighed as she made her way out of the bathroom. Standing in line to get a drink, she felt her pocket vibrate and realized she’d missed several texts from her dad during the first portion of the film.
Her mouth immediately went dry. She could taste the fear in the back of her throat. Her lungs constricted once. She did her best to swallow down her panic.
There wasn’t time to write her dad back. Praying Willow had forgotten to turn her phone off before the start of the show, she steadied her hands enough to send a simple text.
Volcano erupted about twenty minutes ago. We’ve got to leave.