The Last Coffee Shop

Chapter 4: Second Male Lead Syndrome

"You too, eh?" Luc cocked his head, apparently trying to get water out of his ear.

"You know," sighed Mads. "They make towels for that."

"This works for me." Luc shook his head again. "Thanks, for letting me crash here. I don't think I'll be around long, but . . ."

"Just don't cause any trouble."

Luc looked up, and his eyes narrowed. "I'll try to lay as low as the locals will let me."

Mads glanced at her watch. Late. "Look, I have to go. You can talk to Grandmere if you need something." She pushed past Luc and hurried down the rickety wooden stair, but she could feel his gaze following her.

Grandmere was stationed at the front counter. "Alan's waiting." Her tone was cold, disapproval evident. "If you had to make him wait, you could have tried a little harder. Here." 

She had whisked off the scarf before Mads could react, and tied it around her granddaughter's wild dreads. "Much better. You could use some brighter colors near your face, dearest. Or some lip stain?"

Mads grabbed her travel mug. "I love you too. And I don't have time for makeup." She was out the door before Grandmere could reply.

Alan was indeed waiting outside, looking sharp as always in his faux "vintage" Ithirian clothes. His pale green sweater was new, if Mads wasn't mistaken. It complemented his hazel eyes. The burgundy tie, white collared shirt, and tan trousers completed his stylish but respectable image.

He grinned at her when she slid into the passenger side of his shiny Shuttle V. "Primping for me? You shouldn't have. But the headscarf is a nice touch, brightens things up a bit."

Mads rolled her eyes. "Come on, we're late."

"Yeah, and we're not getting any earlier." Alan floored the gas, but Mads was ready for him. She braced herself and avoided most of the whiplash. Somehow, though he had several ships and shuttles, Alan had never learned the proper way to drive. Still, they made it to the Dekker Auditorium in one piece.

"You ready?" Alan opened her door, giving her his signature crooked grin.

Mads closed her eyes and inhaled, commanding the butterflies in her stomach to cease. "Yeah. I'm good. Let's get in there."

They slipped in the back, ducking behind the state park advisors. Alan slipped his way through the crowd so he was closer to his father, leaving Mads alone at the back. She sat down quickly, not wanting Leroy Dekker to see her. He was at the podium, gloating about the successful year, and the upcoming winter tourism. It was all stuff she'd heard before.

Mads managed to stay awake and alert until the vote on the hotel. The speaker for the business was droning on about the now familiar "benefits" of the new lodge and resort. They'd all heard it a thousand times. To Mads' credit, she wasn't the first person to fall asleep.

Mads was reawakened by an unscheduled commotion in the hall. People were milling around the giant screen used exclusively for communications from Ithir's representative (19) and Human Liaison for the Semi Galactic Empire: Honorable Tareq Syed.

Mads reeled forward, unbalanced and disoriented. "I'm awake," she slurred unnecessarily, as no one was paying her the slightest bit of attention.

All of the business owners and council members were gathered around the screen, staring with unease and confusion at Liaison Syed's projected image. Mads shoved herself upright and pressed closer to the screen herself, trying to figure out what she'd missed.

From what she could gather from the low, buzzing conversation around her, the Human Liaison's broadcast was unscheduled and had hijacked the hotelier's long-winded presentation.