L. Marie Adeline- S.E.C.R.E.T

notice I was there. He looked up at me. “Plans tonight?”
“Nope.”
“Not seeing that guy?”
“What guy?” I asked, perplexed.
“The guy from Halo.”
“Oh that guy,” I said, my heart speeding up. It’d been weeks since that night and
neither he nor Tracina had brought it up, Tracina because she was probably too drunk to
remember and Will because he never pried. Had he seen something after all?
“That guy was just a one-time date. There was no real chemistry.”
Will squinted as though he remembered things a little dierently. “No chemistry?” He
turned back to his adding machine and punched in more numbers. “Could have fooled
me.”
When I asked Matilda what to do if I ever ran into someone I knew while out on a
S.E.C.R.E.T. date, she told me that the truth was always better than a lie. And yet, here I
was, lying.
“Will, Tracina’s here, so I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, making ready to bolt.
“Cassie!” Will said, startling me.
Please don’t ask me any more questions, I prayed silently.
Will met my eye. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said.
I saluted and left.
“Cassie!”
What did he want this time? I turned and walked back to poke my head through the
doorway.
“You looked really … good that night. Great, even.”
“Oh. Well. Thanks,” I said, no doubt blushing like a teen. Oh, Will. Poor Will. Poor
Café Rose. Something had to be done soon.
It was inevitable. That evening Tracina got the heel of one of her neon pumps caught in
a crack in the sidewalk. Her toes moved forward, but the heel stayed put, wrenching one
of her bird-like ankles. She had warned—and had been warned—about the cracks in the
pavement and the perils of wearing those pumps at work. But such is a woman’s vanity,
and such was my life, since I was the one who had to absorb a few of her night shifts
until her pued-up ankle returned to its normal dainty size. I complained to Matilda,
who had asked me to keep her aware of my work schedule. I was hoping my next
fantasy would take place in the Mansion, and I was also hoping it would happen soon.
But it was looking more and more like this month might be fantasy-free. “Not a
problem,” she said. “We will just schedule two events next month.” But still, memories of
that interlude in the jazz bar were fading and the truth was, I was longing for more.
Thank goodness for Spring Fling was all I could think, while wiping down the tables. I
couldn’t have made it through a week of double shifts if we’d been busy. The days stayed
dead quiet, but the early evenings cast an even sadder mood over our part of the city.
There were so few customers to absorb the glow o the streetlights, it just bounced