Beauty and the Blackmailer

by Amorette Anderson

  Did I just cook dinner for myself? he thought, with a vague sense of satisfaction. Huh. I think I did. Maybe I can cook! Look at that!

  He picked up the paper bowl.

  “Hot, hot, hot!” he shouted aloud as the bowl filled with boiling water scorched his fingers. He dropped the whole thing. It bounced off of the counter, and he jumped back just in time to avoid being splashed in the face with the hot broth. Noodles slithered across the countertop, and broth dripped onto the floor.

  He cursed under his breath. Unsure of how to clean up the mess, he decided to leave it. Surely a maid would come once he was done with the apartment in two more days. He’d just leave it until then. At least he’d bought a box of crackers at the little market where he’d grabbed the instant noodles.

  He moved to the lumpy loveseat and ate a few dry crackers, feeling miserable. How do people live like this? he wondered.

  He picked up his phone and dialed his father’s number. “Dad, I’ve had enough of this,” he said, the minute his father answered.

  “Hello, Sebastian,” Giovanni said. “How was work?”

  “My feet hurt. My back hurts. I’m hungry. I’m tired. I miss my life. I get your point, Dad.”

  Giovanni laughed. Sebastian didn’t see what was so funny.

  “Do you really get it, son?” Giovanni asked. “Have you helped a customer yet?”

  “Of course! I’ve helped more than I can count. I’ve done nothing but help customers for the last two days!”

  “No,” Giovanni said. “Sebastian, I’ll know it when you have. I’ll hear it in your voice. You’ll have a story for me—and it will change you. That’s what I’m looking for. You’ll know when it happens, too. Until then, I don’t want to hear another complaint. Have fun, Sebastian. This is good for you.”

  Giovanni hung up, and Sebastian dialed again—four more times.

  Giovanni didn’t pick up.

  Sebastian cursed under his breath. There was no television to watch, so he finished eating a few more crackers, washed them down with water, and then took a quick shower. He dressed in a tee shirt and boxers, and walked over to the firm twin bed positioned under the apartment’s window.

  He laid down and stared vacantly off into the distance, through the window. My dad wants a story, he thought. I’ll give him a story. I’m smart. I can figure this out. I’ll fake the change he wants to see. I’ll help some little old lady to her seat tomorrow, and then get all choked up when I tell dad about it. I’m smarter than he thinks.

  The moon came up, and Sebastian found himself contemplating the silvery white surface of it. He hadn’t just laid still and looked at the moon since he was a very young child. There was always something else to put his attention on—something much more exciting and stimulating. But in its own boring way, the moon was sort of beautiful.

  As he looked at the shapes on its pale, luminescent surface, his mind drifted toward Bridget. He felt a soft smile grace his lips as he recalled the way it had felt to stand side by side with her and work on the food orders. Her laugh was bubbly and warm; her eyes sparkled with an aliveness that Sebastian didn’t often see in the other adults in his life. He’d even laughed with her a few times. It had felt so good. He sensed that it had felt good to her, too.

  Then he recalled her damp lashes, and the puffy red rings around her eyes. She was so upset about something... what was it? Sebastian thought. Oh yes, her father. His missing folder, and the blackmail attempt. Was one of the staff members really behind it, like Bridget suspected? If so, who?

  As he wondered about this, he realized that he’d forgotten to pay attention to the chitchat from the three baristas, like Bridget had asked him to.

  I’ll do a better job of it tomorrow, he promised himself. Maybe I’ll overhear something that will help her. I hope I do.

  I’m also going to do a better job with the food if I get stuck with Adrienne again. She’s not so bad – actually, she’s kind of nice. It wasn’t terrible working with her.

  Croissants go in the microwave... bagels go in the toaster...

  With that, he drifted off to sleep.

  8

  Beauty

  On Thursday morning, Bridget arrived at work shortly after seven. Jeremiah was just unlocking the doors.

  “You’re here early!” he said. His tone was cheerful, but Bridget detected some nervousness in it. Soon she knew why. “Hey, about what happened between me and Adrienne...” he said, while slipping his key back into this pocket. “She told me that you two talked about it. That was just a one-time thing.... Nothing to go to HR about.”

  He held the door open for her, and Bridget stepped inside. Entering Glitter Cup used to be one of her favorite feelings in the world. She loved the smell—new books and fresh coffee. She loved the colors, the warm decor, the familiar sensation of being in her cozy home away from home. But now, as she flipped the sign on the door to Open, she noticed a buzzing apprehension in her body. Someone that she worked closely with had betrayed her trust. It made her feel suspicious and unsettled.

  Jeremiah was lingering, obviously waiting for her response. She glanced at the café, and saw Christine setting up a display of baked goods. Sean was wiping down tables. Adrienne was nowhere to be seen.

  Bridget kept her voice low, so that only Jeremiah could hear her. “I’m sorry, but she’s on my staff. I’m her manager. I can’t just ignore it. I’m not saying it was wrong, Jeremiah. Sometimes, these work relationships happen. It can’t be helped. But the Glitter Cup Café and Bookstore policy is very clear—if a relationship develops, it’s got to be documented.”

  This seemed to make his nervousness worse. He kept adjusting the messenger bag he wore over his shoulder, fiddling with the strap at the point where it touched the lapel of his Jacket. “But we don’t know each other that well. She’s not my girlfriend. There’s nothing to document.”

  “You know her well enough to kiss her,” Bridget pointed out.

  “That was the first time. We’ve flirted for years. But it’s not a relationship...” There was more he wanted to say, but he wasn’t allowing himself. Bridget could tell by the redness that was developing on his pale, puffy cheeks.

  “Do you want a relationship with her?” Bridget asked carefully.

  “Of course I do!” Jeremiah blurted out. There we go. That was what he wanted to say, thought Bridget.

  Jeremiah glanced toward the café, then lowered his voice and said. “She’s hot! And really nice to talk to. But I’m sure she doesn’t want anything to do with me...”

  Bridget kept her voice low, too. “Jeremiah, she likes you. You two actually have a lot in common.”

  “But she’s got a kid,” he said. “I can’t be a father... “

  “How do you know?” Bridget asked. “Have you ever tried?”

  Jeremiah shook his head. “I’ve actually been working on growing up a little bit myself this past year. I didn’t even buy ComicCon tickets. And I’m going to move out of my mother’s basement.”

  “That’s great!” Bridget said, trying to sound encouraging. “Jeremiah, I think if you asked her out on a date, she’d say yes. I don’t know for sure, but that’s my impression. But first, let’s just fill out the form from HR, okay? It’s not a big deal. It’s just a piece of paper that saves the company from legal messiness down the road—not that it would ever come to that.” She spoke quickly; she wanted to wrap up this little relationship counseling session as quickly as possible.

  For one thing, she was eager to get to work on her own problem—figuring out who was blackmailing her father. And for another, she didn’t feel qualified to give relationship advice. It made her uncomfortable. Who was she to counsel another about love? She hadn’t had a serious relationship since college, and even then, it was based only on superficial convenience. Since then, she’d been on dates, but nothing ever really felt right. I’m the last person who should be telling another about something as mysterious and elusive as love, she thought.

  “
You really think so?” Jeremiah asked. His eyes became brighter. “If I ask her out, you’re saying she’d say yes?”

  Bridget nodded.

  “Well, Jiminy Cricket!” he exclaimed. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get that paperwork filled out. Print it up and let me know where to sign.”

  His complete turnaround in mood made Bridget smile. “Give me until the end of the day, okay?” she said. “I have a few other things I’m dealing with.”

  “You know what? I’ll print them off myself,” he said, before turning and walking away with a bounce in his step.

  Bridget’s apprehension grew as she neared Sean and Christine.

  Was one of them the blackmailer?

  “Morning, Bridget!” Christine chirped. “The St. Patrick’s Day decorations should be here today!”

  Bridget faked a smile. She looked over at Sean, who was pouring chocolate sauce into a waiting pump bottle. He finished his task and looked up. “Morning, boss!” he said cheerfully.

  Bridget felt slightly queasy. The idea that Sean might act one way towards her and another altogether when she was not around was quite disturbing.

  “Good morning, Sean,” Bridget said as she stepped back behind the counter. How am I going to question him? she wondered. For the next hour, she worked on some managerial tasks while keeping a careful eye on Sean the entire time. At eight, she saw her opportunity. “I’ve gotta go grab some clean dishes,” he said. “I’m out of milk pitchers.” He headed to the backroom.

  Bridget waited a minute or two, and then followed him.

  When she stepped into the back room, she saw Sean. His phone was out, and he was looking at the screen with intensity. His brow was furrowed, his jaw tense. Something on his phone was upsetting him.

  As soon as Bridget stepped into the space, he quickly set his phone down on the countertop and opened the dishwasher. He grabbed two silver milk pitchers in one hand, and one in the other. “Hey, do we have any spare thermometers?” he asked. “I swear, the one out there isn’t calibrating right. It’s been broken for about a week now.”

  Bridget sensed he was fabricating the problem to deflect from the fact that she’d just caught him using his phone during his shift.

  “I’ll look into it,” she said. Then, “Adrienne was telling me that you were out front with Christine on the morning that my dad’s folder went missing,” she said, trying to sound kind and casual.

  “Oh, yeah, I think so. Why? Is it still missing?”

  He wore a goldenrod yellow cardigan over his apron and uniform shirt. Staff members were allowed to wear light outerwear during a shift, as long as their name tag was visible. The sweater looked vintage. It had leather patches at the elbows, and large wooden buttons. His hair was up in a bun on top of his head. His goatee and mustache topped off his hipster appearance.

  “Yeah, still missing,” Bridget said.

  “That is so strange!” Sean exclaimed. Now that she was looking for it, she could actually detect the falsity in his tone. Was anything he’d ever said to her genuine? “What a bummer. Darn.” he went on.

  “Yeah, it really is a bummer,” she said. “So, were you out front on that morning, like Adrienne said? I’m just trying to get a feel for how things were going around here that morning. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “Of course you’ve gotta try to put the pieces together. Your poor dad. Man... that really sucks.” He shook his head. “Really. A bummer. Sure, I was out front. Adrienne usually comes back here. I don’t know if she’s trying to get out of the hardest duties or what. You know, she doesn’t like working that hard. I get it. If you’re not a morning person, getting here at 6:00 and starting right in can be tough.”

  I didn’t ask about Adrienne, I asked about you, thought Bridget. She pinched her lips closed.

  “Do you remember seeing the manilla folder on one of the tables?” she asked.

  “Oh... yeah, sure, I think so. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Bridget wondered which answer was truthful—if any. Yeah, I think so, maybe, or I don’t know. They all expressed different things. She wanted to ask him to clarify, but before she could, he said, “I was so totally wrapped up in what I was doing. I guess I didn’t really look that closely.”

  “The tables looked clean when I arrived,” she said. “Did you clean them, or Christine?”

  “Oh. I usually clean them, but I was so busy with other stuff that I guess Christine did it that day.”

  “What tasks were you working on?” Bridget asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Oh... uh... the usual,” Sean said. “Getting everything ready.”

  At that moment, the phone in Bridget’s office rang. Sean took it as an opportunity to say, “Gotta get back to those drinks!” He hurried off.

  Bridget was about to turn to her office to see who might be calling when Sean’s phone caught her eye. It was still lying on the counter where he’d left it.

  She didn’t like the sight of it lying there. She picked it up with a mind to bring it back out to Sean, along with a polite reminder to please not use it while he was on shift. As she picked it up, curiosity struck her. What had he been upset about, when she walked into the back room? A text message? An email? Something he was reading online?

  She looked at the dark screen and gave it a quick tap. It lit up. Apparently, it wasn’t password protected, because she was immediately in his email. Her steps slowed down as she scanned the message quickly.

  It was from someone named Timmy Kendrick, and the subject was DUDE! Where’s my paycheck?

  Hey dude,

  I know that this week has gotten off to a rough start. Sorry I freaked out on you on Monday, man. But bro, seriously, I need to get paid. I took your word for it that you were good for the money.

  Every time I told you we were going over budget you said you had it covered. My guys need paychecks for all the labor they’ve put into Base Camp, and dude, to be honest, I need a paycheck too.

  We’ve been bros for a long time. Remember the days back at Evergreen? Lets not let this job mess that up. We’re still gonna go skiing in New York next winter. Stop ignoring my calls. Man up and call me back.

  Timmy

  Bridget slowed to a stop and read the whole thing again. No wonder Sean looked upset. He was reading a message from someone who seemed to be a friend at one point, given all the “mans,” “bros,” and “dudes” thrown around.

  Didn’t Sean mention once that he’d gone to college at Evergreen? And Bridget had heard Sean talking about ski vacations with some college buddies before. Maybe this guy Timmy was one of the guys he usually went with. So what was this job that was threatening to mess up their friendship? And what was Base Camp?

  Why was it over budget?

  She was surprised that though she’d worked with Sean five days a week for the past nearly two years since he’d started at Glitter Cup, he’d never mentioned it to her.

  While Bridget thought this over, the phone’s screen went black again. She walked it out to the café and handed it to Sean, along with a quick reminder about the company policy regarding cell phone usage. Then, her mind still chewing on the message, she walked to her back office.

  The cordless phone by her computer had a flashing red light, which indicated a waiting voicemail. Bridget listened to the message. It was from Sara White, the associate editor for the Dayton Newspaper. The message was brief; Sara simply requested a call back.

  Bridget grinned as she dialed Sara’s work number. She’d gotten to know Sara the year before, when Glitter Cup was awarded a people’s choice award for Best Dayton City Coffee Shop. In addition to being the associate editor of the Dayton Newspaper, Sara also headed up the business section. Sara had written up a great piece on the café, and in the process, she and Bridget had become friends. Sara was smart, thoughtful, and had a kind heart. Bridget liked her.

  “Hey, just got your message,” Bridget said when she got Sara on the line. “What’
s up?”

  “Bridget! Thanks for calling me back so fast. Listen, I just got a tip that there’s some big changes afoot for the Glitter Cup organization. There’s a buzz around this news that the CEO, Giovanni Costa, is going to announce early next week. People are speculating that he’s going to retire.”

  “Really?” Bridget said. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “I guess they’re keeping the news quiet within the company, too,” Sara said. “Too bad: I was hoping you might have the inside scoop to share with me.” There was a sound of rustling papers on Sara’s end of the line, and then she said, “Can I bring a videographer by within the next few days? We want to get some footage of the inside of the shop so we’re ready when the story breaks.”

  “Video?” Bridget said, surprised.

  “Sure. We post video clips on our website. It’s a new thing I’ve initiated since taking over. We’ve got to keep up with social media these days, you know! How does tomorrow at 1:00 sound to you?”

  “I think that’ll be fine. Let me run it by my regional supervisor. She can be fussy about media coverage. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll call you back by the end of the day so you can make plans with your video guy.”

  I wonder if Giovanni Costa is really retiring? Bridget thought once she got off the line.

  She placed a call to Shelby, who quickly agreed that allowing the paper in to grab video footage would be no problem. Bridget called Sara back to share the news.

  Once all that was handled, she allowed herself to think over her brief conversation with Sean, and the message she’d read on his phone.

  It had surprised her to find out that he was having money troubles. He’s never mentioned his financial stresses to me, she thought. And what’s this Base Camp all about? How come I’ve never heard him talk about it? That struck her as odd. Is he under so much pressure from this Timmy guy that he decided to blackmail my dad?

  She bit her lip. It was a tough question to answer, especially because the more she found out about Sean, the more uneasy she felt. It was like he was only showing her parts of himself and hiding the rest.