"Thanks for the pep-talk. You're as bad as my mum," I groan when she skips away like a teenager.
Finishing out my last table, my stomach is in knots. I'm sooooo nervous, I'm afraid I'll look like an idiot. I'm sooooo nervous, I'm afraid I'll act like an idiot. Jesus, I'm nervous.
"Ready to switch off?" Mike asks with a grin he can't hide. "When's he picking you up?"
"I don't know. Now, I guess. He said he'd take me for coffee after my shift which he seems to know all about. So now? Can I go? Aileen's here, and I want to change quickly."
"Go," he smiles. "And have fun, Saige. It's just coffee," he reminds me like Selena did and I almost ask if they practiced that line together.
Turning back to the family side, I walk right into Aileen as she grabs my arms to steady me. "Are you okay?" She asks with the whispered concerned voice everyone uses around me now.
"Yeah. Ah, table 4 and 3 are set up for the food wait, and table 2 hasn't ordered yet, so it's all yours."
"Got it. Have fun," she says brightly and I don't know if she knows or if she just means in general. Then again, I'm being a nervous idiot, almost paranoid over my first coffee date in forever.
Turning back for the lounge, I move quickly. It's 5:55 and though I didn't see Malcolm in the restaurant waiting, I need at least 10 minutes to change and freshen up.
Throwing open the door, I run for my locker and strip down right there in plain sight of anyone walking in. Pulling on my loose dark jeans and a black turtleneck overhead, I finish with a big black sweater overtop.
I may be a little over-dressed for the warm spring weather but I feel safe in my clothes. And I need to feel safe today.
Not that Malcolm doesn't make me feel safe because he kind of does which he shouldn't. He's a stranger to me and I need to remember that before I allow his presence to be a comfort to me.
In the bathroom mirror, I take in my face. It's no longer bumpy or swollen and all the sutures have either dissolved or been removed, but there’s a little darkness still below my right eye, and the cut above my eye is still really noticeable.
Using the foundation Selena bought me, I dab around my eye darkness and blend around the scars. The rest of my face is super pasty but that's normal for me. Even the scraps on the opposite cheek from the pavement are all healed up a pale pink now. So I'm basically back to being a pasty bog person, Tyler used to tease.
Shaking my head, I effectively toss Tyler from my mind. I'm not going there, and I'm not doing this today. Tyler is gone and he'll stay gone, I've decided. No matter how much he stalks Selena for updates and information, he's done for me.
Adding a little lipstick, my lips are fuller than they used to be, but that's actually the scar line I now have just below my lip line. When my teeth were knocked through my lips, the placement was perfect, I laugh unexpectedly. Wow, what a sick thought I grin again pulling out my eyeshadow. Adding just a little purple color in the crease, my green eyes always look so much greener with purple. Finishing up with a sweep of mascara, I'm ready.
My hair is in my standard ponytail, and that's it. Looking again, I feel so nervous still, I'll probably clam up instead of talking. And really, Malcolm has seen me yelling, crying, beat up, freaked out on the sidewalk... and that's about it. Jesus, it would be nice if he actually saw my real personality, or that I even have a personality, I burst out laughing again nervously.
Walking back into the lounge, Malcolm stands as soon as we make eye contact. Blushing, I try to quickly get my shit together, especially after he grins like he knows I'm freaking.
"Saige..."
"Um, hi Malcolm." Looking at the bar I see Mike smiling at a mixed drink, and even Selena standing just to the side of Mike grinning at the same mixed drink like idiots.
“Would you like to have coffee here, or would you rather go somewhere else so your friends won't be smiling at us the whole time?” Leaning a little closer to me Malcolm groans, "They're kind of freaking me out."
Huffing a quick laugh, I’m unable to answer. I’m not sure if leaving for coffee means more than staying for coffee here. I'm not sure what to do until Malcolm makes the decision for me.
"Just coffee. I'm not taking you out for dinner or on a date, and I'm not keeping you out late. We're having coffee only."
"Okay, but-"
"Blended down on Market Street. It’s like a 5 minute drive," Selena interrupts us. "Just thought I'd help," she smirks walking away when both Malcolm and I laugh at her.
"Okay. So Blended? Shall we walk or drive?" Ugh. Another pause as I over-think and freak a little. "Saige, I would absolutely never hurt you, and you can trust me in my truck for 5 minutes. You have my word."
"I know. I'm sorry, I'm just new to coffee. It's been a long time for me." Fading out I sound like an ass so I shut up, pull my shit together, and say all I can. "Lead the way," I start for the doors.
Turning just once I see Selena back with Mike and both are smiling with a head tilt to get going before I walk smack into Malcolm's back and bounce off him.
"You look like you're walking to the gallows," he grins.
"No, I don't. I was just checking she wasn't actually following us," I lie quickly as he shakes his head grinning at me.
"Yer blethering, Saige," he calls out my lie in Scottish before opening the doors for us.
Seated in his truck as he walks around to join me, I make a quick decision to stop the shit. He seems perfectly harmless in a brick shithouse sort of way, and he's never been anything but nice to me. I'm not socially awkward normally though my head shakes and pauses suggest otherwise, so I'm going to try to be a little more normal.
"Small talk?" He asks sitting in his SUV. "Or should we wait until we're seated with coffee to get to know each other?"
"Coffee. Everything is better with coffee."
"Does your mom call you a heathen for drinking coffee?"
Laughing quickly I nod yes. "Every chance she gets. Are both your parents Scottish?"
Glancing at me then back to the road, he explains, "No, just my father. He met my mother abroad when she was vacationing in Britain with her parents. They met, had 4 days and 3 nights together, exchanged information, and my dad moved here to be with her a year later. He said he knew he loved her the moment they met- even though she was a Limey," he adds referring to the Scottish slang for an English person. "And your parents? Both, or just your mom?"
"Actually it's almost the exact same story. My father was touring Europe and Britain before finishing his Doctorate on linguistics and he met my mum on the way to the mythical Stonehenge- or the Devil's trap, as my mum calls it now. They met, she fell madly in love within one day, and then she followed him here a few months later."
Turning to me in the parking lot of Blenders, he asks, "The Devil's trap?"
"Yeah. My mum thinks the Druids and pagan myths are just a way to hypnotize normal people into being daft fools. She's not a big believer in love so she thinks the Devil messed with her mind at Stonehenge."
"Huh," he exhales before opening his door.
Waiting for more I think, I don't really want to give it. My parents’ love story is ugly at best, and pretty devastating at worst. It's definitely not first time coffee conversation.
Joining Malcolm outside his truck, we walk inside Blenders silently. Finding a corner booth, I'm relieved it’s a little quieter in the back with soothing instrumental music heard around us so we don’t have to yell our conversation.
"What can I get you?" Malcolm asks absolutely towering over me and the booth.
"A large cafe mocha with no whip cream and an extra shot of espresso?"
"Wow. You don't mess around with the coffee do you?"
"Nope. It's my only vice," I say lightly, but he looks like he read more into it. I don't know him well enough to read his expressions yet, but there was definitely an expression before he turned for the counter.
"Here you go," he places my coffee down as he scooches not so easily into the booth across the tab
le from me. Actually pushing the round table away from him a little, he eventually gets comfortable.
"Thank you." Warming my hands on the pretty teal mug, I'm not sure what to say now.
"Q&A?" He asks with a grin and I nod. "Me first, or ladies first?"
"You. No, me!" I jump in quickly. "How old are you?"
"31."
"Wow, really? I didn't realize you were so old-er," I quickly amend.
"Nice catch," he grins. "Okay, how old are you?"
"Almost 23."
"Wow, really? I didn't realize you were so young-er," he replies cheekily.
Ignoring his reply, I continue. "What do you do?"
"I work for Dan. I'm an electrician by trade, but I home renovate and build up or tear down homes as required. What are you going to school for?"
"I'm going to be a lawyer," I admit quietly.
Pausing for a moment to look at my face Malcolm asks, "Why do you seem uncomfortable admitting that?"
"I'm not. I'm not embarrassed or anything, it’s just people always have weird reactions to hearing that. Either they're shocked that I'm smart enough based on my looks and small frame. Or they're surprised I would go to law school because of my looks and small frame. So I usually find myself either insulted or defensive most times."
"I think it's amazing that you have the intelligence and determination needed to be a lawyer. Is there a reason?"
"Um, I watched someone close to me convicted of a minor offense because he couldn't afford a private lawyer. He was defended by a half-ass Public Defender who didn't give a shit about him. And because of that he was convicted of a crime he should have at worst had a major fine for, but instead was given a hefty prison sentence over."
"What happened?"
"The asshole Public Defender didn't remember his name. At one point he called him the wrong name and even after I cried out his real name in court, he just shrugged like it didn't matter. But it did matter. And if he had put forth as much time on his client as he did brushing his teeth that morning everything would have turned out so differently."
"What did he do? What was he convicted of?"
"DUI... barely. He just blew over the limit on his 18th birthday that very night. He had 3 celebratory beers in 3 hours, reacted completely sober when the police did a field sobriety test, and he even walked a straight friggin' line when he was asked to."
"So what happened to him?" Malcolm asks quietly like he understands this is tough for me.
Inhaling, I tell him the truth. "As the State's average sentence, he should have received maybe a license suspension for 6 months with a recurrence warning, and maybe had to fulfill alcohol awareness classes and then it would've been over for him. Instead, he was sent to adult prison for a term of 6 years."
Tearing up quickly, I hold them in as Malcolm stops speaking and asking questions like he knows I need to recover.
"So you decided to become a lawyer? How old were you?"
"16. That's when I decided to become a Public Defender. Did you know financially disadvantaged people, minorities, and immigrants are sentenced to prison more than twice as often as white, middle class people are?" Not waiting for his answer, I keep going. "And you know it's not because the middle class white guy is less guilty, or less responsible for his illegal actions- it's because he could afford a lawyer who knew his goddamn name," I huff. Looking quickly at Malcolm I'm embarrassed to be so loud and I'm pissed that I let this affect me again. "Sorry," I add grabbing my coffee to calm the hell down.
"Don't be sorry. It sounds like that kid was important to you. And I think your anger is probably what makes you so determined." Calming slowly I ignore his last comment until he says in a delicious Scottish brogue, "It's quite sex’y," further calming me as I smile a little at the tease.
"He was important."
"What happened to him?"
"It's my turn," I cut him off before he can ask more. "Siblings?"
"3 brothers, one sister. And yes, my home was crazy and my mom was crazier. She yelled a lot at me and my brothers, but my father was the one to tame us. With just the quick flick of his belt coming off we would scatter and behave for the rest of the night. As far as I know he only ever used that damn belt once on my oldest brother, but we all saw it come out and panicked. We actually stood listening at the closed door until we heard it whipped down and my brother scream bloody murder. And that was it. The threat was cemented," he smirks at my open-mouthed upset. "It's okay. We think they put the whole thing on, though neither my brother nor my dad will admit it to this day," he laughs as I exhale my breath of outrage.
"Are you close to them?" I whisper thinking of Alec again.
"Yes. Well, my 2nd oldest brother lives in South Africa, but the rest of us are still nearby. My sister was the middle child of us 5, so she was protected by her older brothers, and adored by us younger ones. Your turn. Siblings? And would you like another coffee?"
"No, to both. Parent's names?"
"Carrie Havers and Malcolm MacNeil. Yes, I'm a namesake," he grins. "Malcolm MacNeil the second. Your parents' names?"
"Collin Masters and Rena MacTavish," we say her last name at the same time.
"Rena MacTavish? You can't get much more Scottish than that," he smiles when I agree.
"I'm out of questions," I admit before finishing my lukewarm coffee.
"Really? I have hundreds still. Favorite color? Favorite food? Favorite Music?"
"Green -"
"Like your gorgeous eyes," Malcolm says sweetly.
Blushing, I continue. "My mum's Scottish steak pie. And too much music to name. I’m very musically eclectic.”
“Favorite CD?”
“Um, an old school Depeche Mode album."
"Depeche Mode?" He asks shaking his head in disgust. "Like before you were even born?"
"Yup. Way before I was born. Have you heard the Black Celebration album? It's my favorite."
"Ah, no. Never. I know a few of their songs from the nineties I think, but nothing older than that."
"Well, you should listen to their older music. It's really- what?" I ask grinning at his snarly face.
Shaking his head Malcolm says, "If Dan or my buddies heard me listening to Depeche Mode they'd strip me of my man card and beat the shit out of me for sport."
"Really?" I giggle.
"No... to the beating me up part. But my man card would be gone for life," he laughs at my outrage again. "I'm still up since you have no imagination," he keeps teasing me. "Best friend?"
"Selena, then Mike second."
"Boyfriend?" He asks then pauses as I go wide-eyed.
Well, isn't this a complicated question. Or not, I guess. Looking at my empty mug I finally answer, "No boyfriend."
"Since when?"
"Just a few weeks ago. The day before I first met you actually. Ah, that's when we broke up."
"How long were you together?"
"4 totally pointless years," I say bitterly before stopping myself.
Leaning against the back of the booth, Malcolm gives me space before asking, "Not mutual?"
"Oh, the ending was all me. But the pre-ending was all him. He did something unforgivable. So though I had to leave him, I never would’ve left him if he hadn't done what he did." After my sentence I realize by avoiding the reason for our breakup I ended up sounding stupid so I quickly explain. "He cheated on me, so I had to leave him. And it was a shock. Still is a shock actually."
"I can only imagine after 4 years together. Do you still love him?"
"Yes."
Looking over at Malcolm, he doesn't look mad or anything he just nods like he gets it without judging my answer. Glancing past the other people in the cafe, I realize the sky is darkening and I need to get home before it’s completely dark.
"It's getting late so I should probably get going. Thank you for the coffee."
"You're very welcome. How are you getting home from the restaurant?"
"Selena said she'd come back to get me."
"Let me drive you to your door. I'll make sure you get in safely."
"It's okay. I'll just call Selena."
"Why?" He sounds confused as he pauses for my reply.
"Because I feel a little nervous still and I like the routine of Selena and I walking in together," I admit pathetically.
I need him to understand so he lets this go. He is NOT driving me home because then it feels like a date or something. And it's not a date. It's just coffee.
"You're very stubborn," he says like I don't know that already.
"I know."
"I'm stubborn too, Saige. So I promise you I'll be driving behind you to make sure you both get in safely before I leave."
"Isn't that called stalking?" I laugh just a little uncomfortably.
"Nope. Not if I tell you I'm doing it. Stalking is about being sneaky, but I'm blatantly telling you I'm going to follow you home. Therefore, I'm following, not stalking," he counters with a smug grin I can't help smiling back at. "Can I ask you one more question?"
"No. I'm exhausted," I groan playfully.
"It's about the night you were attacked." Flinching, I'm shocked he would bring that up so suddenly. Breathing in deeply, my chest is tighter and my hands start shaking almost immediately. "Just one question?"
"God no," I almost beg holding my breath until he relents.
"Okay. Another time." Never, I think to myself. There will never be a time to discuss that night with him. "Are you ready to go?"
"Yes," I nod already rising.
The playful Q&A is over, and my mood has shifted totally. I was starting to really like him, and now I'm back to feeling awkward and self-conscious. I don't even want to get back in his truck with him now I'm so uncomfortable.
"On second thought I'll just call Selena to pick me up here."
"Why? What changed?"
"Nothing, I'm fine," I smile as best as I can stepping out of the booth.
Already dialing Selena she answers on the first ring with a dramatic, "Sooooo?" But I cut her off before she can really start grilling me.
"Can you come get me at Blenders? I'm ready now," I say with inflection hoping she understands and drives quicker.