The Chicago Rat Shifter

Chapter 12

Cyrus had just enough time to get home on his electric skateboard before night fell. He jumped onto the sidewalk in front of Wicked Cat Coffee & Brew, flipping his board into his hands and hooking it on his backpack. He couldn"t stop smiling.

He sniffed a bouquet of random flowers that he had stopped to pick up for Becca. Their wet, fragrant smell mixed in with the strong aroma of roasted coffee beans.

Wicked Cat Coffee & Brew was a corner shop with brown and green brick, and windows that served as loading doors that folded up in the summer so people could sit on the patio after dark. Becca’s apartment was on the second floor, capped with a historic green turret, the kind that gave the old Chicago buildings flair.

Back in the day, North Milwaukee Avenue in Logan Square was a rough spot. Scary place to go to at night. Lately, the place had been gentrifying, and it was a lot safer. Becca, a hipster at heart who wanted to be in the middle of the city, opened her shop there, as if there weren"t a million other coffee shops that the neighborhood was famous for. But even though she was a coffee snob, she was an even bigger beer snob. After dinner, she served microbrews and spiked coffee for all the people who wanted to sober up a bit for before going home. Nothing made Becca happier than wandering her shop with trays of drinks, giving s**t to the locals, and not taking s**t from anyone at the same time.

He spotted her behind the reclaimed wood counter, under a mason jar light, making what appeared to be one of the last caramel macchiato lattes of the day. A few baristas were rearranging tables and chairs for the night crowd.

He pushed into the shop, and a chime rang over the door.

“I am the champion,” he said, holding up his hands in victory. After everyone in the store paused and stared at him, he said, “That is all.”

He sat at the bar. A barista with a pompadour hairdo and coffee-stained apron give him a high five. Cristián was one of the original employees that Becca hired when she first opened the shop. He worked the swing shift, and he was equally adept at slinging coffees as well as mixed drinks. The female patrons constantly hit on him too. A Spanish accent would do that. He’d come over from Spain as a foreign exchange student at the University of Illinois at Chicago and ran a photography business on the side.

“Jesus, man,” Cristián said.

“Don’t ask,” Cyrus said.

“Your wish is my command, but Becca will bleed the truth out of you,” Cristián said. “And I’m not missing it for the world. Even if it means sacrificing a tip.”

Cristián dug a finger into the plastic around the bouquet and pulled them to his nose. “You got me flowers. How sweet.”

“You wish,” Cyrus said. “I got a new job.”

“Let me guess: flower shop?”

“Guess again.”

Cyrus spotted a blonde ponytail bobbing around the Wicked Cat in the corner of his eye. Becca served coffee to an elderly couple in front of the window. The bottom of her camo tank was stained with coffee. Then she wandered over. Cyrus handed her the flowers and kissed her on the cheek.

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” she asked, skeptical.

“You"re looking at the newest employee of the Whisker & Claw Corporation,” Cyrus said, grinning. “I walked in and they practically begged me to work there. I’ll be working around rats, I think. I’ll learn more tomorrow.”

“Well, s**t. I don’t know what to say,” she said, sniffing the bouquet. “I was prepared to say something snarky. I stand corrected, Cy.”

Then she noticed his eye. “Oh my God, what happened to you?”

“It doesn"t matter,” he said.

Becca’s eyes searched his face. She arched an eyebrow.

“You went to Jules"s, didn"t you?” she asked. Before he could reply, she hit him several times with the bouquet.

“Oh, come on!” he cried.

Cristián whistled and did a covert slide toward the espresso machine.

“You are such an i***t,” Becca said. “When is Jules going to serve you a restraining order?”

“I’m surprised we’re not planning your funeral,” Cristián said. “Jules’s new boyfriend is a muscle factory.”

The chime rang over the door, and a duo walked in that stopped the bar. Straight out of the magazines—a man in a leather jacket, white concert t-shirt, and ripped jeans. With him, a blonde-haired woman in a faded flannel shirt with the top two buttons undone, jeans, and brown leather boots.

They stopped as they entered, looking around the shop. Cyrus could smell the guy"s cologne from across the shop; he smelled of wintergreen and rubber. A man"s man cologne.

Becca called out, “Be with you in a minute.” She looked at Cyrus and said, “Thank you for the flowers, and congratulations on the job, but I hope you learned your lesson for once. Cristián, get my brother a drink, on the house…and an ice pack.”

Cristián saluted her and said, “One Keystone Ice, coming right up.”

“Do it and die,” Cyrus said.

Cristián laughed as he squeezed behind the counter with Becca and started mixing a drink.

Cyrus settled down at the table, easing his backpack and skateboard on the floor. He didn"t see that the man and woman had sat at the table next to him. They stared, and it startled him.

“Nice wheels,” the man said, eyeing his board. “Do you ride a lot?”

“Every day in the spring and summer,” Cyrus said. “Unless it"s raining.”

“I thought about making the investment myself,” the man said, “but I’m a motorcycle guy through and through. Nothing will separate me from it.”

“Pretty cool,” Cyrus said. “Is it outside?”

“We took the train today,” the man said. “Luna isn’t fond of bikes. Isn’t that right, Luna?”

“If I’m going to die, there are better ways,” the woman said. She watched Cyrus intently, and her eyes were...mesmerizing. She was taking all of him in, completely concentrating on him, squinting her eyes a little. It made him feel small, yet butterflies in his stomach soared.

“Rocco was so busy admiring your wheels, he didn’t see your black eye,” she said. “How’d you get that?”

Cristián floated back to the table and slid Cyrus a mixed drink—Becca’s Special, cranberry vodka, Sprite, blackberries, and green food coloring, rimmed with crusted salt. He produced an ice pack from his apron, which Cyrus accepted with a grateful nod. Then he blocked him as he took the couple"s order. After he walked away, the man smiled at Cyrus and said, “Did you get jumped, bud?”

Rocco glanced over at his female companion and said, “I remember those days.”

The woman propped her head on her fists and tilted her head at Cyrus. “I don’t. I love a man who knows how to take a fist to the face, though. For a woman, of course.”

“I knew there was a reason you were with me,” Rocco said, placing his hand on hers. “But seriously, though, you ought to get that eye checked out.”

Cyrus held up the icepack to his temple. “It’s no big deal.”

Rocco shrugged. “Hopefully, it was a good lesson for you. You get those kinds of battle scars, and you try to avoid them in the future. But you don"t strike me as the kind that goes around looking for fights.”

Cyrus took a sip of his drink. Sweetness exploded across his lips. “You’re right.”

“Let me guess: it happened over a girl,” Luna said.

Cyrus grinned sheepishly.

“I knew it,” she said. “Did you clock the other guy?”

“We won’t talk about that,” Cyrus said.

“Gotcha,” the man said. “So you really did get your ass kicked, then.”

Cristián returned with a rum and Coke and a tall glass of straight Scotch.

The man raised his Scotch to Cristián and said, “We were just talking to your buddy here about the virtues of self-defense.”

Cristián made whiskers with his fingers before heading toward the bar. “Maybe talk to him about self-defense for rats. That’s his new job.”

“Something like that,” Cyrus said, sipping his drink.

“You’re a man of mystery,” Rocco said. “First, street fights, and then rats, eh?”

Luna sipped her rum and Coke and slid to Cyrus’s table. “You’ve got my attention now, sweetheart.”

“It’s some job I got today,” Cyrus said. “I start tomorrow.”

“Congrats,” Luna said. “Hopefully, you don’t scare easily.”

“For the money, I won’t.”

“Ah, the perennial money issues,” Luna said. “We know all about those.”

“You don’t want to mess around with rats,” Rocco said. “Buddy of mine works for the city doing sewer maintenance. Got bit on the hand and ended up in the hospital for a week. Bad infection.”

Luna shivered. “I can’t imagine. Can we please change subjects?”

“You said you were looking for a job,” the man said. “I might know someone who can help you. How’d you like to use your board?”

Cyrus brightened. Sometimes there was a benefit in talking to strangers. You never knew about city life.

“What’s the range on your board?” the man asked.

“About seven miles.”

“I think that could work,” he said, glancing at Luna. “Tell you what. Why don’t you come out to Uptown with me tomorrow night? Around dark? I’ll give you an address so I can introduce you to a friend of mine. Don’t do anything until you’ve had a chance to talk to her. I think you’ll dig what she has to offer.”

The time. He was supposed to meet Thurston at the same time.

“That’s when I start this new gig,” Cyrus said. “Can’t we meet earlier? Or the day after tomorrow?”

“She’s out of town for a month after tomorrow,” Rocco said. “It’s gotta be tomorrow, bud.”

Cyrus thought about Dr. Thurston and the $15-an-hour paycheck. And then he saw Luna’s and Rocco’s smiling faces and felt guilty.

“Listen, I really appreciate it, but I already signed a contract,” he said, lying. “I don’t know you guys.”

“Really?” Luna asked. “They made you sign for a job you haven’t even started yet?”

Cyrus shrugged.

Rocco took a tall swig of his drink. He dangled the glass, swirling the remainder of the Scotch inside. He looked Cyrus in the eyes. “All right. I get it. You won’t reconsider at all?”

“I made a commitment,” Cyrus said. He downed the rest of his drink. “It was nice meeting you guys.”

Rocco raised his hands in surrender. “I apologize if I came off too strong. I just meet good people and want to help.”

“It’s why I love him,” Luna said.

Rocco nodded. Luna looked away and ran a hand through her hair.

What was up with them? Were they hitting on him? Cyrus couldn’t always read people’s intentions.

“Good luck, bud,” Rocco said, reaching up and patting Cyrus on the back. Cyrus recoiled at the pat.

“Whoa, bud. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Rocco said. “We wish you all the best.”

Cyrus excused himself and headed toward the back of the shop.

“What’s with them?” Cristián asked. “They were pretty friendly. Maybe they thought your black eye was sexy.”

Cyrus stole another glance at the couple. Rocco and Luna sat, speaking to each other in hushed tones. Rocco noticed and nodded to Cyrus. He chugged the rest of his Scotch and took Luna’s hands and caressed them.

“No idea,” Cyrus said.

Cristián poked him. “If I didn’t know any better, my ménage à trois-dar is going off.”

“Get out of here.”

“The way she was looking at you and then looking back at him,” Cristián said. “Opportunity of a lifetime. They seemed sad that you rejected them. The way he reached up and patted you on the back? That qualifies as a love tap, my friend.”

“You’re nuts,” Cyrus said under his breath.

“Would it be the end of the world?” Cristián asked. “I mean, you’re single.”

“You talk to them, then.”

YouBefore he climbed the rear stairs to Becca’s apartment, he took a final glance at the couple. Rocco and Luna paid for their tab and left. Once they made it to the sidewalk, Rocco put his arm around Luna and they disappeared into the night.

Cyrus shrugged and went upstairs.

* * *

He spent the night thinking about Jules, listening to the Bee Gees, and looking out the window at the blinking traffic lights below.

He fixed himself another Becca’s Special from the fridge—she kept the supplies on hand to mix it upstairs if needed.

He sat at the window, swilling the first sip. The patrons from the bar were trickling out of the bar now. A glance at his watch told him it was two o’clock. Closing time.

Boots sounded on the wooden steps approaching the apartment door.

He turned the music off to not irritate Becca. He hurried around, cleaning up a little.

An ear-splitting scream stopped him and made him drop his drink. The glass shattered.

It was Becca.

Cyrus leapt over the couch and whipped open the door, where she was standing in the hallway, pointing at the floor.

Cyrus almost stepped on it with his bare feet but caught himself just in time.

A giant, bloodied rat lay on the doormat.