In The Cafe (Co-written by Ella Thomas)

I told the taxi driver to stay parked in front of the post office before I slammed the door shut. The fare was ridiculous, so I guess you could say I was doing myself a disservice by making the bill double, but I didn’t have a choice. Glenn was using my car for a stakeout and the office wasn’t exactly in walking distance. As I pulled the smooth metal handle on the glass door, I held it open for a blonde woman and her daughter to step through before I entered. She thanked me for being a gentleman and I insisted it wasn’t a big deal.

As I stepped into the main corridor, it amazed me to this day just how beautiful it was on the inside. Marble pillars holding up the ceiling shouldn’t have been wasted on a post office. I thought to myself that this place would be perfect to house a museum. The security guard, Roman,  greeted me the same way he had every week since he started working here. The badge on his jet black uniform was crooked, but he was too involved with the world inside of his phone to notice.

“You gotta put the phone down, Roman. It’s rotting your brain.”

He looked up at me with a smirk on his face, “Ha, yeah but it’s so addicting! You don’t have one?”

“Of course not, I barely like talking to people as is, why would I want them to contact me at any moment?”

He shrugged his shoulders and disregarded my comment as I fiddled around with the contents in my pocket. Pushing aside the slim wad of money to finger the key for my P.O. Box, I walked over to box number 154. I slid my key into the lock and turned until I heard a click, and pulled it open. The usual array of obligations rested inside, but behind them laid a package. As I reached for and grabbed the package I walked over to a marble platform and placed it on top.

With the key still in my hand, I used it to cut through the plastic tape to see what was in the box. Inside was a mirror with a small post it note attached.

“I want to see you. Meet me at the Brightmore Café tonight at 7. I don’t like to ask twice, I detest having to beg.”

I relinquished a small laugh to myself before pocketing the mirror and note, acknowledging Roman before I left. He wished me a good day as I walked through the corridor. I liked Roman, even though he was a pea brained imbecile who allowed technology to consume his mind.

The Arabian cab driver complained when I approached the vehicle, citing the heat as one of the many reasons he was miserable. As beads of sweat manifested on his forehead, I slapped the roof of the taxi and told him I would no longer need his services. I handed him a 50 and when he reached for change, I told him not to bother. He adjusted his Mets cap before pulling away.

As I strolled down the crowded streets of Yonkers, I couldn’t help but wonder who sent me this package. The package was without a return address, so that removed one of my leads right off the bat. The contents of it made me lean towards the sender being a female, which didn’t really add up to me. Interaction with the opposite sex was at an all-time low, so maybe I should step into the café with my guard up.

A car horn disrupted my train of thought, beeping at a pedestrian too busy on his iPhone to care of his own wellbeing. I shook my head and carried on, just blocks away from the Brightmore Café. As I crossed the street safely, the sunlight beaming down and onto a skyscraper nearly blinded me, the reflection causing me to squint into the distance.

I approached the coffee shop with loads of questions tumbling around in my head. I took a deep breath and stepped through the entrance, which sent a “ding!” throughout the store to alert the workers of a customer. I perused the setup, looking for a woman sitting alone.

Directly in front of me sat a couple sharing a bagel. I doubt she’d come here with another so it couldn’t have been her. Then a woman caught my eye. A young woman, barely in her twenties, sitting crouched up with her legs against the table, notepad resting on her knee with the end of a pen just grazing her lips. She looked up at me. I walked towards her to share her presence. She was wearing a pink Hollister low cut top and an even lower cut pair of white silk shorts.

“Are you James?” she asked me.

“I am. And you are?” She offered her hand and I took it in my own, kissing it with a soft touch, marveling at her natural beauty. If she wore make-up, it wasn’t much. Her blonde hair extended further than her shoulders, and her face was relatively small. She resembled a Hollywood starlet who refused to come to mind. Finally, before giving her hand back to her, I took a quick glance at her eyes. Her pale baby blue eyes spoke stories, novels of a Hell that she’d only dare share with her coveted readers. I couldn’t begin to fathom what she had been through.

“My name is Ella Thomas and I’ve aspired to meet you for as long as I can remember. This is a dream come true,” she said, gushing, “I’ve imagined this day many times. You’re one of the few who writes what they live. I admire that.”

I scooted my way into the seat across from her, questioning what she knew and how she knew it.

“Let’s not get into details. I have friends in high places and that’s all that matters. “

“Yeah? You make it seem like I haven’t heard about you.”

“Oh,” she shot back, “I know you have. Which makes me question why you’d even show up tonight. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Finally, he cut to the chase, “I don’t really care what you were expecting,” he remarked before calling the bartender over to their table. I came to the conclusion that she chose this café above the others because this was one of the few that actually served alcohol. It was a fact that they didn’t opt to hide, either. Calligraphy painted over a green backdrop read, “We proudly serve alcohol.” The lighting was dim, creating a night time setting even though it was still early evening. The brick walls were a nice touch and complimented the scenery very well.

The bartender slumbered over to us and asked what I’d like.

“Give me the house vodka and Sprite, and whatever the lady wants.”

The bearded, slender bartender looked in her direction. She scratched her chin while choosing her drink, ultimately on a scotch with a water.  Before she could proceed forward, the barkeep approached them both with their requested drinks and asked if they needed anything else. They both shoed him away, resulting in a simultaneous smile from the both of them.

She spoke again, “can we get down to business now?”

“Shoot,” he said, while taking a sip of his mixed drink.

She pointed to a man sitting at the bar, donning a leather jacket and sunglasses. “Wanna see me work? Let’s see if you can handle being a witness to what I do. I ask you to just sit back and enjoy,” she said with a rye smile.

“Wanna join me outside for a cigarette? I’m not really comfortable discussing this in here. At least outside we can create our own privacy.”

James studied her eyes and quickly picked up on the fact that she took it the wrong way, but he couldn’t bring himself to fault her for it. Beyond her beautiful eyes resided a damaged ice queen. Her blonde hair surrendered to the flow of the air conditioning, basking around in its continuous flow. I followed her out the door, marveling at her tremendous backside, knowing there was nothing I could possibly do with her.

She led the way and sparked her cigarette first in the parking lot before passing the lighter to me. Before I could exhale my first drag, I asked her what she sought me out for.

“Because we have a kinship. We are both killers. Are we to avoid that fact?”

“Avoid it? You haven’t a clue as to who I am, let alone what I do.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she snapped back.” What if I knew the real you? The one who maims and murders, but for a good cause? That’s where you and I are alike. That’s when I gained such an interest in you. I want to know more.”

I sighed at the harsh reality that somebody knew my truth, but felt as if I could trust her.

“So why do you do what you do?” I asked before putting the butt to my lips.

She flicked hers before answering, “Men are pigs. Groomed, made this way. Their way of thinking is instilled in their brains since birth, they’re all the same.”

I shook my head in agreement, billowing out a cloud of smoke that the wind swept away within seconds.

“The guy inside, you taking him home tonight?”

“I’d planned on it, but only if you watch. I have a room at the Mariott in Manhattan. Here’s a spare key,” Ella said before placing it in my palm, “Meet me there as soon as I have my claws in him.”

I thought about her proposition, but she tossed her remaining stick away as she walked towards the door. I again played follow the leader and sat at the table we called our own while she moved next to the man in the leather jacket.

“Hiya,” she chirped and as the man turned to face her, I could see a look of sudden sexual hunger flash across his face.

“Well, if you aren’t the prettiest piece of blonde cake I have seen all day. Can I get you a drink?”

“You can get me…” she began, pausing to bite at the side of her lip, “A scotch please, kind sir.”

“Please and sir, even. Looks to die for and you still have manners,” the man said as he turned his stool toward her, his hand casually brushing her leg. As she made no move to stop his advance and indeed, gave him a warm sexy smile, he put his palm on her knee and leaned closer to her. “You smell wonderful.”

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, taking a sip of the drink as he ran his hand along the inside of her leg.

“Your skin is amazing,” he said, making no pretense to hide his desire, pushing his thumb under the silk shorts.

While he stared at her exposed flesh, she turned her head to give a quick nod to James, as she was now quite sure she set the hook deep enough.

“Listen, I’ve been walking around this city all day. Is there any chance you might be so kind as to give me a massage? I’d be mighty grateful, sir,” she said, her voice bringing a smile to his face.

“How grateful?” he said, leaning quite close to her.

She pressed her mouth against his ear and whispered, “Sir, you can do whatever you want to me. All. Night. Long.”

The man didn’t waste another moment, pulled a twenty out of his pocket and threw it on the bar. He jumped from the stool and offered his hand to Ella. I couldn’t help but smile at her brutal efficiency as the man led her from the bar less than ten minutes after she had approached him.

Less than thirty minutes passed before her hotel room door was nudged open lightly. This guy could barely contain himself, already kissing and caressing before they were even through the doorway. Ella stopped and smiled before I made my presence known.

“Hello.”

He staggered back, shock overcoming him. “Who in the fuck are you? Ella, get him outta here, there’s some creep in your room. Call security.”

As I sat in the darkened corner with the lights off, I laughed at her response.

“I’m fairly sure the only creep in this room is you. He isn’t going anywhere. He is going to watch. Either you deal with that or leave. If you are not leaving, come here.”

She sat down on the bed and leaned back, waiting for him to join her. I put my elbows on my knees, holding my head in my hands as he slowly approached. Reading his body language, I could tell that he was uncomfortable with the situation but wouldn’t let it get in the way of getting his piece. He draped his jacket over the edge of the bed, close to where Ella’s purse rested on the floor.

He grabbed her face and kissed her lips roughly, his breathing getting a heavy as he climbed on top of her. Getting a bit more aggressive with each passing second, he ripped her shorts down and pinned her arms back. I could tell Ella didn’t like where this was headed, but I knew she was fully capable of taking care of herself.

“What about the massage?” she said.

“Fuck the massage, did you really think that’s what we were going to do?”

As he unzipped his pants and stroked himself, Ella took the opportunity to attempt an escape, but he dug his fingers into her shoulders and pushed her onto the bed like a ragdoll, her back making a thud against the headboard. She tried to roll away from him, but he pinned her to the bed, stomach against the sheets and in an instant, forced himself into her. As she let out a yelp of pain, I rose up from the chair and tossed it aside, crashing it against the lavish flower patterned carpet.

“That’s enough, get out of here. I mean it, go.”

The man’s stature alone was intimidating, and his reaction even more so. He chuckled at my order and told me he’d leave when he was done.

I grabbed the medium sized hunting knife from the sheath wrapped around my right leg and stuck it into his back. I was not sure if he was dead after the first strike, but he toppled onto Ella. She asked for my help to get him off her, so I tossed him off of her and onto the floor below where it made a huge crash.

She threw her arms around my neck and thanked me for my help before asking me for one more thing. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a knife of similar size to the one I had used and put it on the bed.

“I’m gonna need you to lift him and put him back on the bed.”

“Oh come on! What for?”

“Would it make for much of a story if I told you why? Just do it.”

A deep sigh exited my lips as I bent down to lift him. He must have been at least two hundred and fifty pounds. I struggled to place him where she wanted him, but saw her request through.

“Now what?”

“Now you hold his head for me so I can slit his throat.”

I was confused. “Ella, he’s dying, if not dead already. There is no need.”

“You’re right, but he deserves for me to slice him for what he did. So hold his head up for me.”

Again, I did what she told me and held his head up so she could get a clean cut. A once white tee turned crimson as she slid the knife across his throat, slowly collecting in small puddles on the bed.

“James,” she said as the man expired in her arms.

“Yeah, Ella?” I sat across from her with the corpse in between us.

“Will you just hold me?”

Without hesitation, I rolled the man off the bed, leading to another thump echoing across the room. I embraced her small, slender physique, my hands sliding under her shirt and cupping her small firm breasts as I held her tightly in a pool of his blood. She turned her head to look into my eyes and I knew we’d be the perfect couple. The perfect killing couple.