𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 || j. daniel atlas

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

Alena stripped off her blazer as soon as she stepped into the café. Her interview could have gone better, but she had managed to remember enough from what little research she had managed to fit in that the citizenship test had seemed easy enough. Now all that was left to plague her mind was whether or not her forged documents passed the USCIS's screening process; she had certainly paid enough for them.

It was this café in particular that Merritt had mentioned visiting almost every day. She knew it was a long shot that he would be there at the same time she was, but with her forged documents finally under the scrutiny she had paid for, Alena would have given a great deal to see a friendly face.

Knowing caffeine would only worsen her nerves, she ordered a hazelnut hot chocolate at the counter and found a table towards the back of the café. She pulled out her planner and pen, thanking the waiter when he brought her drink over, with extra cream, chocolate flakes and a wink. Flicking through the pages, weeks of blank spaces, Alena pursed her lips and sighed. Somehow, she would either have to tempt in more clients or get a second job again if she wanted to stay afloat.

Then, the bell above the door jangled wildly and one of the baristas gave a little cheer. "Wait! Wait! Don't tell me!" He screwed up his face, pressing two fingers to his temple and holding his other hand out in front of him, fingers spread as if about to cast a magic spell. "Black coffee with one sugar."

"You got it," the man replied, and only then did Alena look up.

Merritt McKinney looked much older than in any of the pictures Alena had seen. His long, blonde hair was absent, his face littered with wrinkles, but his appearance was altogether friendly and even coaxed a glimmer of a smile from the corner of Alena's lips.

He turned away from the counter, casting his eyes over the table and Alena ducked her head again. She flipped through to the notes section of her planner and just as she was about to start absentmindedly doodling, she heard footsteps approaching her table.

"Hello there," came the voice.

Alena looked up to see Merritt standing over the chair opposite her. "Hello."

"May I?" he said, gesturing to the chair.

Alena shrugged. "Be my guest."

"Interesting accent you've got there," he smirked. "And you just came out of a job interview. No. A naturalization interview."

Alena put down her pen, leant forward, and propped her chin on top of her fist. "And how do you figure that?"

"Your blazer's dumped on the chair instead of on or properly hung, which means whatever you needed it for is over."

"Okay," Alena said, though still with a steady, expectant stare.

"You're British, most likely, though there's a touch of the European there, and you're here. Tourists don't generally come to this particular café. You could have lived in New Orleans for a while, but it seems unlikely as I've never seen you in here before, which means somebody recommended this place to you. If you heard about it from a friend, you wouldn't be here alone. And look at you, with your fancy pen and your planner; you're someone who has enough to organise that they need to keep note of it. You've got clients and I reckon it was one of them who recommended this place."

Alena raised an eyebrow.

Merritt leant back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his lips. "Hello, Alena."

"Very good, Mr McKinney. It's nice to know that your talents aren't overrated. Tell me, do you always explain your thought process to your audience? Kind of ruins the magic, doesn't it?"

"Only for you, sweetheart."

"I'm honoured," Alena smiled, her reply laced with sarcasm.

"And as long as we're being honest," Merritt leant close again, "I confess that I don't always use my powers for good. A man's gotta eat, you know? I hope that won't be a problem."

"Mr McKinney-

"Please, Merritt."

Alena cleared her throat. "Mr McKinney, I don't care what you do. I don't care how many people you hustle. As long as you're bringing in the money."

"Wow, you really are all heart."

She offered him a sardonic smile. "A woman's got to eat, you know?"

"You're smart. That's good."

"I do have one condition, however, on us working together. Face-to-face, I mean." Merritt's face shadowed with a serious expression. "You are, under no circumstances, to use your tricks on me."

Continuing to nod, Merritt held out his hand. "I think that's something I can abide by." Alena took his hand and shook it. "You got a place to say?"

"I'm still looking. I'm staying at a hotel for a moment."

"There's an empty apartment in my building. It's not much, probably three rooms, certainly not your Ritz-"

Alena scoffed. "You should have seen the last place I lived in. Compared to that, anywhere is the Ritz." They both chuckled before Alena took in a more solemn breath. "Has there been any interest?"

"Nope," Merritt said, then leant forward yet again and added, "I reckon you could probably get a good deal if you negotiate it right."

Jotting down the address that Merritt gave, Alena paused mid-zip code and frowned. "Why doesn't this feel weird?"

Merritt rubbed his chin. "I don't know. Perhaps I just give off a...trustworthy aura?" Alena shrugged, knowing that Merritt could very well be lying, being a hypnotist and all, but that things would never get better if she didn't take any risks. "Or maybe it's because you're not used to trusting people."

"What did I tell you?" Alena raised an eyebrow, though allowing herself a little smirk. "Stay out of my head."