It’s been a week since Dani punched me in the face.

The bruise has almost gone, though mum won’t stop asking me where it really came from. I’m not so surprised that she doesn’t believe my half-assed excuses. She’ll forget about it in time.

Frank took Dani to a safe-house—he won’t tell me where. It’s fair, I suppose. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do at Emotiv yet, so he’s got no real reason to trust me.

Although you’d think that taking a beating in a dark alley with a smile and a nod would be enough, but there ya go.

“Good morning, Kyla,” Melly greets me for my morning shift. I’m going through the motions at this point—check the pipes, clean the brewer, wipe down the surfaces, restock the syrup supplies. There really isn’t all that much to it.

Serving people, though, that’s still a skill out of my reach. I’m getting the hang of it, bit by bit, and some drinks are easier than others…

Let’s just say I wince whenever a patron requests Serenity. It’s a pain in my ass.

A short while before opening time, Frank opens the back door.

“Mornin’,” he calls.

“Hey Frank.”

I expect him to shuffle into the back office right away, but he comes to the front of house. “Melly, CCTV off.”

“Yes, Frank.”

He leans on the foliage wall, trailing a long ivy vine through his right hand. “So, you decided yet?”

Should have known this was coming. I shrug. “I dunno, Frank. It’s still raw…”

“Of course, I understand. But look, you’re getting much better. You learn fast—that’s not nothing.”

“Thanks?”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way.” Frank looks skyward, searching for the words.

“It’s okay, boss.” I chuckle to defuse the tension. “Seeing Dani last week shocked me. I never thought of what these people were like before they became… what they are.”

Rather than berate me for my stupidity, Frank nods in understanding.

“I don’t know how much I can help, and I’m scared as all hell, but… yeah. I’m in.”

The effect is instant—Frank breaks into a dazzling smile. “Ah, that’s great to hear! I promise you won’t regret it.”

I snort. “Yeah, right. We’ll see about that.”

He points to the cameras overhead. “Okay, so if anyone comes in—”

“I think I get it.” I hold up my hand to stop him. “Sign language, signal the camera, water, blend syrups. Check.”

“One more thing.”

“Hmm?”

Frank steps right up to me and places his hands on my shoulders, looking down into my face earnestly. “Thank you.”

I’m speechless, gaping like a goldfish.

“Right, that’s enough of that crap. Time to open up!” He ducks back into his office with a wave.

Grinning, I stride over to the door and unlock it. EVen though I’ve essentially signed myself up to a life of subterfuge, a huge weight’s been lifted from my shoulders. It feels right. “Melly, CCTV on.”

“Yes, Kyla.”

#

The morning passes simply enough, though a higher ratio of VIPs comes through the doors than usual. A stern woman with rimless glasses peers down her nose at me, barely tilting her head.

“What’s good today?” she sneers.

“Uh, today? Well, um…” I motion to the menu board overhead. “We have the usual varieties for VIP class—”

She snorts loudly with a roll of her eyes. “No, child, what’s new? What’s different? I’m bored with the same old. Surely they have something fresh? Maybe even something—” She leans on the counter, resting her chin on her hands. The effect is ridiculous. “—Special?”

“Frank!” I shout loudly, startling Miss eight-inch heels into a standing position.

He bustles in from the back room, eyeing the situation. “What’s up, Kyla?”

I motion to the VIP. “Madam would like to know if we have any fresh, new, special varieties in recently?”

Frank raises his eyebrows and nods, a smile spreading along his broad face, and turns to simper to her directly. “Yes, yes, of course, madam. Would you like something by way of productivity or relaxation?”

“I don’t care about any of that!” she spits, turning her attention back to her phone. “Just hurry.”

Frank points below the counter to one of the worker syrups, but I already know what he’s chosen; Understanding.

Not for the first time that week, I feel a pang of remorse for Dani. It was only two weeks ago that I watched her do this same thing.

I pour a double measure of the fuschia liquid and watch it bubble in the glass. A quick top up with some oat milk, and a swirl of whip, with a flourish. Frank talks the whole time while I prepare the drink, as though he’s commentating a sporting event.

“You see, it’s a bubbling pink—the syrups rarely bubble like that. Emotiv imported oxygen from Iceland, especially for this blend. It gives it a really fresh overtone. And the oat milk helps to carry the flavours best, a creamy hint and—oh! Great thinking, Kyla, a little soy-whip will really complement the new flavour very nicely. Maybe a little cinnamon on there, too?”

But she isn’t listening. Instead, she continues tapping on her phone, merely cocking an eyebrow at Frank’s constant commentary.

“Yes, yes, how much?”

Frank smiles. “That will be eight hundred credits, madam.”

“Eight hundred?” This gets her attention enough for her to look up, though she’s only mildly surprised.

“We’re technically breaking the rules, serving it to you at all…”

“Oh fine, here.” She taps her bracelet on the counter, and the credits beep through.

Frank slides the glass across to her. “With our compliments, madam.”

She gives another snort on her way out the door.

“She took the glass,” I say, wiping the stray moisture from the counter’s surface.

Frank chuckles. “At that price, she can keep it. That should cover a few expenses. I bet her workers will have a better day than usual, too.” He gives me a wink and heads back to his office.

#

Before I even realise it, the sky is darkening, and it’s almost time to close up for the night. It’s been non-stop all day, with wave after wave of VIPs coming through the door. I’ve only seen a few workers, but that’s not unusual—there are better things to spend our credits on.

“Melly, time?”

“The time is seven fifty-two pm. Eight minutes remain before closing time.”

I inspect the storage cupboard, noting the syrups Frank will need to re-order. Maybe I’ll be able to make my deathmatch with Caleb tonight, for once. I’ve missed spending time with him. We’ve both been too busy this week.

“Greetings, patron. You will be served by Kyla today.”

Shit! I drop my notepad and rush back to the counter, brushing my hands off on my apron.

“I’m awfully sorry—”

A middle-aged woman stands at the counter, her clothes stained and threadbare. She’s more well kept than John, but it’s unmistakable. One glance at her wrists confirms it.

I take a deep breath and nod to her, speaking in sign language.

Sorry, just one moment.

She nods and signs a thank you in reply. I glance up at the CCTV camera and raise one finger before reaching into my apron. Turning my back, I down the small vial of Composure that’s been tucked there all week, waiting for me to freak out.

Now’s your time, little buddy.

The effect is instant. In distilled form, Composure feels like a wave of cool water, relaxing every muscle in my body, even my scalp. My heart finds a steady rhythm, and my brain fires off commands with ease. I turn back to the woman.

My apologies. Would you like a drink?

Oh, thank you. I’m so thirsty…

Of course. One moment.

I fill a cup and squat low, adding a small measure of Blessed. Glancing to the side and up a little, I read one of the VIP syrups on the top shelf.

Luck.

I shake my head. No, that’s going too far.

But my hands move without listening, adding a measure of Luck to the cup.

I stand and hand it to the woman, who takes it with a grateful smile.

Thank you so much.

She drinks, and her eyes light up in understanding.

You put something in here?

I nod. It’s only something small.

Her smile is intoxicating. Nothing Emotiv sold could ever match this feeling. No chemical could elicit this response in my body. I’m buzzing from head to toe, and I can’t wipe the stupid grin from my face. I finally understand what people mean when they say something makes them feel ‘warm and fuzzy’. That is literally the only way I could ever describe it.

Yes. This could get quite addictive.

She keeps thanking me all the way out, backing out of the door slowly, bowing occasionally. I chuckle and wave her off.

No, please, it’s nothing.

“Thank you for your patronage.”

“Kyla, who was that?”

“No one, Frank.” Shit, what was the signal again? Blessed… “I think Melly’s on the fritz again!”

What should I add for Luck?

I bite my lip. “Maybe it’ll sort itself out, with a bit of luck?”

A little on the nose, Kyla, but it’ll have to do.

Frank tuts a little. “Right, sure thing.”

I head to the front door to lock up, but as I reach it, I’m horrified to see wardens outside. They’re pinning the woman to the ground, pointing a gun to her head.

“Stay down!”

I recognise the rough voice instantly. It’s Harding.