Kassie pushed the door open and stepped inside. There were numerous Starbucks in West Town, but this was by far the busiest, and though she had passed through it several times already over the last few days, she returned to it now, anxious to warm her bones after a deeply dispiriting morning. Making her way to a vacated table, she took ownership of an abandoned cup of coffee, hoping that the staff would think she’d bought it and leave her alone.
It was a good vantage point – centrally located in the store, with a clear view of the entrance, the counter, the staff area. She examined the faces that passed by, trying to look uninterested as she read their fate, while quietly dying inside. Minutes dragged by and, as her mood plummeted, her desire for actual refreshment started to grow. The smell of the coffee was intoxicating and the sight of other patrons wolfing down almond croissants and granola bars was too much to bear. She’d forgotten to eat anything this morning and now, in spite of her dizziness and unease, her stomach was growling.
She delved into her pocket, eventually finding a twenty-dollar bill, the meagre remnants of her savings. Rising, she crossed quickly to the counter. A middle-aged Korean man was stationed at the register, awaiting new orders.
‘Latte, please,’ Kassie mumbled. ‘And a chocolate croissant.’
‘Sure,’ the man replied, in a flat tone of voice, taking the proffered bill and gesturing her to wait at the pass. Kassie moved along the counter and lingered, shifting from one foot to the other, as she did so. Moments later, a hassled young barista approached with her coffee.
‘There you go, ma’am,’ he said, his strong European accent mangling the words.
Kassie snatched it up eagerly, but as she did so, her eyes rose to meet his. Immediately, she felt a jolt of naked fear, an electrical surge of terror that seemed to rip right through her. Her mug tumbled to the floor, shattering as it sprayed her legs with hot coffee, but Kassie didn’t move. She could no longer see her server, was no longer in Starbucks. She was in a room she didn’t recognize, writhing in a pool of blood, gasping for air, as the life drained from her …
Screaming, she lashed out, trying to find purchase, some way to drag herself from that awful, gore-spattered room. Her hand connected with something and she grasped it eagerly – and now suddenly she was back in Starbucks again, gripping the startled barista’s shirt. The young man looked confused, even a little scared and was desperately trying to loosen her grip.
‘You need to leave.’
The young man hadn’t spoken, which confused Kassie. But then she became aware of the store manager standing right next to her.
‘You’re scaring the other customers. You need to go.’
He plucked Kassie’s hand away from the man’s shirt. Kassie glimpsed the barista’s name – Jan Varga – on his badge, but had no time to communicate with him, as she now found herself being marched towards the exit. Too late, she tried to recover the initiative, twisting in the manager’s vice-like grip, but her feet skidded on the floor, as he dragged her away from the counter.
‘You don’t understand. I have to speak to him –’
Her voice was high and hysterical. She knew she sounded crazy, but she had to try.
‘He’s in danger. Serious danger. I have –’
‘The only one who’s in danger is you,’ the manager replied angrily. ‘Now beat it, before I call the cops.’
Heaving the glass doors open, he shoved her outside. Regaining her balance quickly, Kassie charged back towards the entrance, but the burly manager stepped in front of her, blocking her path. She screamed and shouted at him – what the hell was this moron thinking? – but he remained unmoved. Beyond him, Kassie could see Jan being comforted by other baristas, but there was no way to reach him. Only she knew what lay in store for him – what agonies he would have to endure – but for now she remained a frantic but hopeless presence, on the wrong side of the thick glass doors.