part0006

By the next day, Jacob was sitting in a coffee shop in downtown Duluth. It wasn’t the middle of the woods, but the city was a fifth the size of Minneapolis and off in its own quiet corner of the state, so it’d do.

Missy had stayed home, and by default, so had Quincy. But with absolutely zero distractions now, Jacob figured he could hammer out the book in no time.

He’d commandeered a table in the middle of the narrow café, a place called the Coffee Princess, and was spread out with his computer, notes, earbuds, his phone, and a cappuccino, which, to his surprise, was really good, maybe the best he’d ever had. (The barista pulling shots behind the bright-red La Marzocco espresso machine would get a bigger tip when he ordered the next one.)

Jacob grabbed his phone, took a picture of the cappuccino, and sent a tweet to his million followers: “Roasted coffee seems like the perfect cover to transport drugs, doesn’t it? Wonder if it actually works. This is delicious, btw.”

Of all the social media accounts he now had, he only bothered with Twitter. He left the rest to Tina and her team. They were the professionals. He was just spouting nonsense half the time anyway, so it was best he didn’t clog up every account he had with such drivel.

Before he could set his phone down, it rang.

“Delete that tweet,” Tina yelled. “I can see the café in the background. Someone’s going to recognize it.”

“Really?” He looked at the photo. The background clearly showed the café’s brick walls and natural light woods, some work by local artists hanging on the walls, and a couple of posters highlighting community events behind the bar, but there wasn’t anything too particular there. The largest poster in the café, the one announcing “Duluth Prince Fest” wasn’t even close to being in the photo.

“Really,” Tina said. “Delete it.”

“You can’t tell where I’m at.”

“I’m taking no chances. Delete it or I will.”

Jacob did as instructed. “At least give me credit for not geotagging it or whatever that’s called.”

“That’s not a default setting.”

“Well, you should know there are a lot of suspicious-looking characters here. I might be dead by midnight. Maybe you should get me some professional security.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll get on that,” Tina said, and hung up.

Jacob was joking, but maybe it wasn’t a half-bad idea. If he’d thought of it yesterday, he might’ve been able to stay in Minneapolis.

Looking around the café for real this time, he caught the barista eyeing him. She dropped her eyes, turning back to the espresso machine and the milk she was steaming. Jacob watched her prepare several more drinks, but she didn’t look up again. Suddenly, though, he wasn’t feeling so comfortable in the café.

The barista was surely nothing, Tina had gotten into his head.

He had to go. This anxiety wouldn’t go away now. Thanks, Tina.

Double-checking that the pepper spray was still inside his bag, he packed up, then grabbed the cup and saucer and carried them to the bin near the counter.

“Excuse me,” the barista said. “Are you Jacob White?”

He studied her for a moment, and she smiled nervously. She was a short, dark-haired woman with a slightly frustrated look despite the ease with which her smile stretched to envelope her face.

“I’ve seen you on TV,” she continued.

This was the first time he’d been recognized in public. Jacob grinned wide. The Tina-induced panic faded. This barista was no threat. Of course she’s no threat. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The barista chuckled. “Wow. This is crazy.” She checked that there weren’t any customers at the front counter, then turned back to Jacob. She squinted hard, some fresh doubt in her eyes. “You’re not him. Jacob White’s not really in Duluth.”

“No, I am.” To prove he really was the celebrity she thought he was, he unfolded his wallet and showed her his driver’s license.

“Holy shit,” she said. “You’re not lying. And you’re a Taurus. Me too.”

“Oh, cool.” He didn’t know anything about the zodiac, but she was clearly pleased by that fact, so he went along with it. “That’s great.”

“So why’re you in Duluth? It’s so boring here.”

“Writing my book.”

“Yeah, I saw you talking about it. I’m definitely buying that. My name’s Emmelia, by the way.” She extended her hand across the polished wood counter.

“Emmelia? I spoke to you earlier on the phone. I called about the Wi-Fi.”

“Sure. So you drive up here? You’re from Minneapolis, right?”

“I flew. Puddle jumper. My girlfriend needed the car.”

“Gotcha. I almost moved to Minneapolis once.”

“Fits my style. Wanted something different from Chicago but still with all the water, you know?”

Jacob nodded, his urge to leave the café completely vanishing. “Do you think I could get another cappuccino? That was really good.”

“Of course. On the house.”

Yep, he was a real celebrity now. “No, no. I’ll pay. Don’t want you getting in trouble.”

“I won’t get in trouble. I own the place.”

“You’re the coffee princess?”

“That’s me.” Emmelia then got to work on the drink. When finished, she slid the saucer across the counter. The foam was in the shape of a heart.

Hope she’s not hitting on me, Jacob thought. The problem with being a celebrity.

“How long you in Duluth for?”

He really didn’t have any idea. Until that shooter was caught? Until the cartel lost interest? Until he decided “Fuck it” and just went back home?

The café door swung open and a fedora-wearing woman popped in.

“Excuse me,” Emmelia said. She went to the elderly woman. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we can’t allow pets in here.”

Beside the woman was a toy-sized hairless dog that if it hadn’t been on a leash, could’ve passed for a large rat trying to sneak inside.

“I’ve had Billy Jack in here before,” the woman stated. “He’s a Xolo. Hairless.” She took off her fedora, revealing a buzzcut of silver hair that perfectly matched the frizzies jutting from the ears of her rat-dog.

“I’m sorry, but whoever let you do that wasn’t supposed to,” Emmelia said. “It’s the health code.”

“He’s hairless, though,” the woman persisted. Her dog was shaking and snarling, winning over no one’s sympathy.

“Nasty,” Jacob muttered as he took his cappuccino back to his table. When he gave the coffee a taste, it was unsurprisingly delicious. If he wasn’t careful, he could very well get addicted to these.