I Unintentionally Became Her Kitten

Chapter 96: Glass

Alisha sat down next to me on the couch. I looked up, pulled the earbud from my ear and paused the video on my phone.

“Good day?” I asked. “Bad?”

“Worse,” she sighed quietly. Her voice was low. Her guard had joined mine by the door and it was hard to know how much they were listening to us.

I nodded though, and patted her knee before turning back to my phone.

She went on hers, messaging and the like as always. I realized she spent a lot of time simply looking over messages as well. Perhaps calculating people’s intention from whatever she might see from between the lines.

Once Tye picked us up, we could speak freely again, away from prying eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her. I even reached over to put a hand on her knee, but my seatbelt wouldn’t let me get too close to her.

“Sergei’s acting up since I won’t just hand over what he wants,” she explained. “Thinks that turning in Toni is a symbol of loyalty… but it’s not the kind of loyalty I want.” She rubbed at that space between her eyebrows that always showed so much of her tension. “What about you? You look exhausted.”

“Cafes are a warzone,” I explained.

“A warzone?” she repeated.

I nodded, and explained to her the overwhelmingness and the way my hands ended up shaking.

She listened, nodding.

“Sounds like your manager doesn’t care,” she interpreted.

“Is it… not caring?”

“Well… she cares. About the money and the performance. But not about her employees. It sounds like she views you as tools rather than people.”

I wasn’t sure. That sounded harsh.

“I wouldn’t look at a person with so much disdain simply because they’re struggling with something they’re not used to… but I might do that to a knife that doesn’t quite cut all the way through,” she explained. “That’s the way she sees you.” She ran her finger along the seatbelt that was across her chest. 

“Do you want to quit?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No. I’m just… learning.”

She put her hand on mine. “Don’t be afraid to back away if it's too much,” she said. “I can and will support you. No repayment expected.”

I nodded. That was how it always was and I trusted it to always be. “But I want to experience routine… and normalcy for once… maybe before…” I let the rest go unsaid. My associated status right now only meant I knew too much, was willing to walk into too many situations to remain on the outside. But in the future… who would I be in Alisha’s world?

It was scary, and possibly even stupid, but I loved her far too much to walk away.

“Alright, Kitten,” she agreed. “But know your life is still yours.”

“Thank you,” I said with meaning.

I arrived at Starmaid's late the next morning. Kind of. It was five-thirty-one rather than five-twenty. I clocked in right away but still had Charlotte come from around the back to glare at me.

“Thought I was clear you should get here ten minutes before you clock in,” she stated.

I nodded, trying to be respectful. “Yes, we got held up in traffic,” I explained. “I'm sorry, I'm still getting used to the commute.”

She glanced to the back window where Tye’s Hon-yoda was pulling away. Her eyes narrowed but she said nothing other than, "don't let it happen again,” before disappearing into the back office. I let out an uneasy breath. It had been a stressful hurry to get ready after I ignored the alarm a couple times until Alisha finally gave me a nudge and I went down to start making coffee… and then remembered I had work.

Kye had already gotten most of the opening tasks done but some of the syrups still needed to be put in pitchers. Along the back wall of the line were sparkling glass pitchers of every color, lined up to make a sort of lopsided rainbow. A few were mostly empty after the previous night’s closing shift. Kye directed me to where the mixes were stored. I was still working on refilling them as the store opened. It was again the same occasional person, up early for whatever reason, and then things started to get busier. Alex came in, gave me a friendly nod, explained to me I could do the pitcher things next to the register so it was easier to alternate between taking orders and pouring mix.

It wasn’t bad at first, simply pour a box in, get some water to dilute it, if needed, then stir, then put it up on the shelf with the others.

The line got chaotic, though. The other baristas, more experienced than I were weaving between each other in a rush, with adept foot work used to dealing with the crunch of coffee grounds under foot and having four people all working different drinks at different rates and different stations. Kye hurried past me as I was starting to turn back to a pitcher of strawberry lemonade goop. I scurried a bit, trying to get out of the way and shrink in to myself at the same time. My elbow smacked into the pitcher, which was still mostly empty and I heard it tip, felt the gentle disturbance of air as it fell.

I braced, expecting the shatter. It hit hard with that hair raising glass-sound that meant something broke. I looked down, worrying about the mess and froze. The shards of glass were everywhere. A few big pieces were here and there, still attached to the heavier bottom but others were scattered across the entire line, drenched in sticky red liquid.

I felt the color drain out of my face.

“The hell is wrong with you?” I heard Charlotte ask, but it was distant, too far away until she grabbed my arm. “Are you a princess that’s never worked a day in your life?”

I pulled away instinctively. My heart was racing, part of me knew why and part of me didn’t.

“Clean this up, now,” she ordered.

I started to, my brain understanding the need even if my legs were shaking. I tried to grab the broom, missed, my hand groped for it again and gripped. My weight leaned on it.

I couldn’t get enough air in.

Charlotte was still watching me as my knees started to go weaker. My hands weren’t just shaking, they were burning, tingling.

“Kit?” it was Alex this time, concerned.

“I’m–I’m–” but I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Come on,” Alex said and brushed my arm,

“Where do you think you’re going?” Charlotte’s voice snapped.

“Give us a minute,” Alex told her softly.

They guided me away from the line, back to the backroom and then into the walk-in cooler.

It was hard to do much other than follow.

“It’s okay,” Alex said. They took their apron off and draped it over my shoulders. “You’re safe, okay?”

I nodded, though the trembling wasn’t going away. Hot tears were sliding down my cheeks, probably running my makeup on the way down.

“I think,” I managed. “I need a garbage.”

Alex nodded and hurried up and dragged one back with them, planting it in front of me. They stayed despite the retching and the vomit.

When I was done, I tied the bag closed at least. My hands were still shaking but I was regaining control. 

“Charlotte’s a real bitch,” Alex said softly. “She doesn’t understand people aren’t here to be machines.”

I shook my head.

“Was it the glass?” they asked instead.

I nodded. “A bit… triggering,” I explained.

They rested a hand against my arm, not enough to restrict or restrain, but enough to be present.

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with this,” I told them.

“We need to look out for each other. I’m sure you’d return the favor if it happened the other way around,” they said.

I wasn’t so sure. I’d listen to Charlotte, as much as I could. If Alex had been me at that moment, I didn’t think I would’ve had the guts to defy her and leave the line. If that came in the future, I’d remember that.

My breathing was even again. The cooler was making me cold, not just cool at this point. I stood, still trembling, still unsteady, but stabilizing.

I rubbed my eyes, hating the way I saw fragments of Brett’s face half hanging off his head when I did so, and the inches deep glass shank pulling free of Alisha’s back. 

It was then the cooler door opened, with Charlotte standing in the doorway. She was calm at least. But her voice dripped with authority when she spoke. “You’re dismissed for the day. Both of you, get off the premises now.”

Alex opened their mouth, “Charlotte, it was a panic-attack, for god’s sake. It’s not like she wanted this.”

“If she can’t handle the line she doesn’t belong here.” She fixed me in her gaze. “Take today to reconsider your position here. I won’t give you a second chance.”

I swallowed, the bile still burning in my throat.

And then she turned to Alex. “You listen to me. If I tell you to stay, you stay, is that clear?”

Alex wanted to talk back. I saw their rigid posture, the clench of their jaw, actively biting back the words. And finally, they said, “okay,” and broke their eye contact.

“Out. Both of you. Now.” Charlotte turned to go back out to the line, leaving us in the cold silence.