His Twisted Queen

Chapter 2

Alaina.

..................

With a boss like Jenna, I couldn't complain at all. Even now, she's standing beside me and taking orders, both of us moving so fast behind the counter, it's a miracle we don't bump into each other.

We are good at co-existing in the small space and had long established patterns of movement that the others understood and quickly adapted to.

I suspect that Jenna is the real reason, all the customers love this place. She's warm, loving as ever today, throwing interesting comments, making idle conversation with the regulars. She's a sympathetic ear to so many and people actually find it easy to talk to her.

I'm not nearly as chatty as Jenna.

The most I do is tap on that-hope to see you again- cause Jenna made me, said it softens my interactions with the customers so that they leave on a good note even if I was dry.

No one ever complains about me even though I barely make eye contact and sometimes rush them out of the door.

I'm busy wiping down the counter and condiment station when a trio of cops walk in. I act beside myself, I've had my fair share of shitty cops in the past. I always feel a little shiver of fear for them since some of them had the priveledge of slapping cuffs on me.

The cops exchange raucous banter, popping in for coffee and probably pastries. As usual.

"And here I thought my day couldn't get any better." One of the cops say, leaning over the counter and winking at me.

"It will get a whole lot worse if you don't stop leaning on my counter that I just wiped down." I retort.

"Deserve that one, buddy." Another cop teased. "Shoulda known she's out your league." He smile at me, making a kissing motion with his lips.

"Out of yours too." I snapped. If they only knew I can crack both their necks without skipping a beat.

The first cops shrugged, straightened, dusted himself off and adjusted his belt. "Guess, she's not into cops." He remarked to his friends, before turning his attention back to me. All the humor is gone, now he is all business.

"Can I get a coffee, black and a cinnamon roll?" He peeled a few bills from the wad of money he lifted from his wallet and toss it on the counter.

"You got it." I say, ringing him and wondering if it would've been better to indulge him. Now he looks pissed because I embarassed him infront of his buddies. I don't want to get on the bad side of a cop with my record.

But then again, someone need to put them in their place from time to time, it might as well be me.

The cops take their coffees and snacks, heading out but one remained. I was right. He is mad that I rebuffed him and seems eager to try his luck again.

"I know we got off on the wrong foot," He says. "My buddies are d***s, even I know that, but I think you'll like me if you get to know me."

"Thanks but I know enough people and don't need to know any more." I almost added especially a cop, but I know that would be a bad idea. I turn away to grind more beans, but the cop reached over the counter and grabbed my wrist.

"Are u always this rude to people that are nice to you?" He hissed.

My instincts called for me to say, screw it, haul off and clock him across the jaw when someone grabbed the cop from behind and yanked him away.

"You were asked nicely to back off, now I'm telling you. You better leave if you know what's good for your ass."

I'm flustered and ready to yell it whoever the hell that just intervened to back off, but then I laid my eyes on the saviour and lost my voice in shock.

Before things could escalate, the cop's radio erupted with a series of garbled commands that he made a show of answering to as he made a hasty retreat without looking at me or the hero again.

The man stayed put. He shook his head, and muttered: "Good riddance." as the cop got in the cruiser and took off.

I look at him, not in the slightest interested in showing gratitude for his saving. I scrutinize the older guy, he has a head full of grey hair and yet his eyebrows are pitchblack.

He gave me a curious look as he approached the counter. "You okay?" He ask. "I hope I didn't overstep by telling that cop to scramble off? I guess, I couldn't help myself and I'm sure that you can take care of yourself."

"All good, Dominique." I casually say but have to admitt it kinda feels weird to say his name after what...three years.

"Hey, what happened to uncle Dom?!" He gives me that warm smile that always managed to reap at my heart.

But today after so many years I can only quietly stare at the man that saved my life when I was just eleven years old. And I feel nothing

At the tender age of eleven, I cut my wrists in my father's Olympic size swimming to silence myself...erase my entire existence. I didn't feel the pain...I had no fear, I eagerly waited for the scythe of death to come down and take me. I knew I would either die of the excessive bloodloss or by drowning cause I didn't know how to swim, I still don't.

Only I didn't die cause this old man came at the wrong time to be a saviour.

At that time, I didn't even know mom had a brother.

I met my uncle in a hospital bed for the very first time.

"You got big and damn...ugly." He gently laughs as he plops down on the high stool at the counter.

"You are more ancient than I remember. Shouldn't you have been dead by now?" I'm bashfully suprised that I managed to match his energy of playful insults.

Back and forth banter of insults between us was a thing and I secretly knew that, that was his way of helping me cope with whatever situation, I needed to deal with.

"You've always been an ass." He laughs. "How are you, Alaina?"

Haven't heard that question in a while. I drop my eyelashes, clearing my throat. "I got my s**t together. How is aunt Viola, she still make a killer chicken soup?"

He softly chuckles. "Yeah, she still does."

Whatever this is...it ain't going smooth, not even a bit.

Dominique Roman was my mentor, ATM, uncle...anything I needed him to be.

At a very young age, it was already imprinted into my head that I'm from a seen family of higher stature. I was taught how to sit, how to talk, how to be...perfect. I was confined in a gilded cage. Beautiful. Hidden. A perfect prop for my father.

I was just a perfect picture with a broken frame. And this man with his constant reek of cigars made it his duty to put my broken pieces back together again.

One night, I sneaked out of one of dad's fancy parties and as soon as I stepped foot out of the gilded cage, Dominique Roman pulled up in a dirty old Ford and said: hey kid, need a ride?

And soon, he became my unlimited uber, always taking me to wherever the wind blew me.

I knew he was being a cool uncle but I also knew that he was secretly hoping that I seek for the light and come out of the forlorn darkness.

"Why do you spend your time, making coffee for straight edges?" Uncle Dom --gosh, it feels weird to call him that-- looks around the coffee shop setting.

"With smarts like yours, you could literally do any thing else."