Amateur Detective at Work

My coffee shop was crowded, but of course it was a Friday night. Several of my coworkers came over to chat with me, and I could sense that some of them were feeling sorry for me: Poor Persephone, she must not have a date, and isn’t it sad she’s visiting her work on her day off?

My waitress was Kellie—the one who hates me because John never so much as looked twice at her, and chose to date me instead of her—who slammed my cappuccino down on my sticky little table, causing the coffee to spill. I just smiled at her

The smile seemed to infuriate Kellie even more. It was strange to be hated by someone who didn’t even really know me; I could feel the hatred baking off of her in waves. As I sipped my coffee, briefly wondering if she had spit in it, I noticed she walked over to another waitress, whispering to her and simultaneously looking over at me.

They were talking about me. Suddenly I realized something; Kellie had overestimated herself, and underestimated me. She had simply assumed that since she had always gotten what she wanted, she could just as easily get John, as if he were an expensive purse on sale or something.

I knew that since many of the girls who worked with us liked John, that had made him all the more of a prize to Kellie--she wanted John like a trophy to rub in all the other girls' faces; she would relish the jealousy and attention she would get from everyone. I also realized two other things: She wanted John even more since we had started dating, and that she truly hated me becuase she felt I had somehow stolen him from her.



Kelly was going to be trouble, I could feel it. Unfortunately, I had other things to contend with right now. I was on the lookout for some witches.

I turned my attention to the people in the coffee shop. I spotted a small group of girls sitting across the room; there were three of them, crowded into a booth. They all three had dyed black hair, fish-pale skin, and numerous tattoos and body piercings.

The lone skinny girl of the three sat facing me, across from her two chubby friends. I was certain she was their leader; it was in the way they seemed to defer to her in every manner, and she was the more attractive of the two--which wasn't saying much believe you me.
She was thin, and her dyed black hair had been professionally colored. She had not colored it herself with a box of Clairol from the drugstore.

And her clothes--long black skirt, black silk top, black combat boots, and expensive distressed leather coat--were high-end designer clothes, although I was willing to bet she told people she shopped at thrift stores.

They were all three smoking clove cigarettes, and sipping cup after cup of coffee. It was possible they were only Goth girls out for a night on the town, but I had a sense they were more than some suburban poseurs out for a wide-eyed thrill or two.
The skinny one particularly gave off a menacing vibe. I felt strongly that these girls would lead me to at least someone who would know where some real-deal witches were.

I rummaged through my big purse and pulled out a paperback book, and began to read, keeping one eye on the Goth girls.

After about twenty minutes, the Goths paid their check, and they all three scooted out of the booth to leave. I slammed some money on the table, only leaving that bitch Kellie a fifty-cent tip, and followed them out. Kelly gave me a scowl and hateful glance as I left.

I transferred my bottle of mace to one jean pocket, and slid my razor-sharp pocket knife in my back pocket. I didn't know where they were going or what I was about to walk into, so better to be as safe as possible. Plus, I have other special weapons of my own, just in case.

I joined the flow of light foot traffic, staying an adequate distance behind the Goths. After a few blocks, we were near the river. The girls turned down a dark lonely street, and as I looked up at the place where the girls were going, I gasped.

Then all hell broke loose.