The Last Coffee Shop

Chapter 3: Watch My Back, Keep Your Blade

By late morning, word of the stranger at The Shop had managed to spread around town, although Mads certainly hadn't said anything. Soon after the gossip had started, Grandmere escorted Luc to the tiny attic room, and he hadn't emerged since, but that didn't stop the talk from flying.

Mads refilled three coffees and tried not to eavesdrop on the customers' conversations. Jay, a mechanic from the com tower, was debating Luc's species with Corrections Enforcer Roberts.

For some reason, Enforcer Roberts seemed to doubt Luc's humanity. "Why would he come here? To gawk at us? Maybe he's one of them shifters, they call them. They say they come from the planet Prznacnac(14) and they can shift their skin to look human. You have to poke 'em with a knife or something sharp, because they'll bleed green and prove they ain't natural."

Jay shrugged. "Maybe it's natural where they come from. Natural for aliens just isn't natural for humans."

Mads almost burned her hand as she plunked the coffee pot down in front of the men. "Shifters are bedtime tales, meant to scare children. The new guy is human, just like you two, but less well-fed and a lot dirtier."

Both men looked down at their ample middles, trying to decide if Mads had meant that as a jab, but before they could reply, she'd run off to serve the newest curious customer.

It was Alan, thankfully stranger-free now. Mads had seen enough strangers to last her until the winter tourist season. "Hey Alan," she said. "Something up?"

Alan leaned forward and dropped his voice conspiratorially. "Is it true, what I heard?"

Mads rolled her eyes. "You mean that we hired a new guy? Yeah, it's true. At least until he slips up . . . What about it?"

Alan frowned and shook his head. "Uhm. No, not that. I meant, is it true that an alien spy plane crashed in your field?"

Mads blinked twice. "How the hell would I know? I saw the ship, if that's what you mean. There was no one in it, and if there ever was, they were burnt extra crispy. It didn't look alien, and the boot prints around it were human-sized. And besides, every ET visitor we've ever known had no interest in war or causing trouble with the few humans left."

Alan dropped his voice. "But They watch us. Don't be naïve. Ever since They came in and played the savior card, everyone's been hopping to their tune."

Mads knew Alan couldn't afford this kind of talk any more than she could. And besides, she didn't agree with him. All her problems stemmed from her fellow humans. The alien investors (like most investors) were pleased as long as they got their money on time. And that little thing depended on Alan, and on her paying Alan.

Mads cleared her throat. "Why are you really here?"

Alan winced. "Do you have to be so direct?" Alan was a natural charmer, with enough ooze and polish to make his ordinary looks a non-issue. He'd had more girlfriends than all of his friends combined; a fact that he was immensely proud of.

Sometimes Mads couldn't believe they were friends. Even with the recent distance developing between them, Al still sought her out just like he used to. Maybe he knew she'd always tell him the truth, like now. People like Alan needed straight up honesty.

Mads cleared her throat. "I know you have to have the money, and I know your Dad is at your throat when you don't bring it in, but I just need one more week . . ." Mads slowed down, trying not to sound like she was begging, or worse, whining.

Alan cut her off. "I'm sorry Mads, I tried, you know. He said you'll pay up or close up this time."

Unlike his son, Leroy Dallas Paxton Dekker the Third didn't care who hated him, and he was rich enough for that (and other) luxuries. Mads knew that The Shop's part of the SVUAC dues was minimal to Leroy Dekker, but that was beside the point. Mads was not just the legal owner of the Last Coffee Shop in the World, she was also the unfortunate recipient of a second-generation grudge.