Mr. Dangerous Page 7

  Hopefully, nothing was wrong with anyone. She bit her lip and jumped out of bed, sitting down on the office chair next to her desk. Shaking the mouse to wake up her laptop, she was greeted with a message from an anonymous sender. She didn’t even know anyone could be anonymous on an instant messaging service, but what could be the harm? She decided to engage the sender who sent the message that read:

  ANONYMOUS: Hello, Jasmine. Do you have a moment to chat?

  Fieldsofjasmine92: Hello. Who is this?

  ANONYMOUS: Do not worry who I am. I am here to warn you.

  Fieldsofjasmine92: Warn me about what? I’m still curious who this is. How did you find my username? Why can’t I see your username?

  ANONYMOUS: So many questions, but I have so little time to offer. This is a secure line, so I cannot show you my username. That means that our conversation can be entirely private.

  Fieldsofjasmine92: Why does our conversation need to be private?

  ANONYMOUS: In case they are listening.

  Fieldsofjasmine92: In case who is listening? You aren’t making any sense.

  Jasmine was becoming frustrated. The anonymous chatter was not giving her answers, but he was the one who had reached out to her. She felt a twinge of anxiety. It was strange enough that someone was contacting her from a “secure line” to have a private conversation, but the creep factor was heightened with the way the chatterer spoke. She felt goosebumps cover her arms as if someone was watching her. Deciding that a bit of light would help her feel better, she walked over to the door and flipped on the light switch at the entrance of her bedroom. When she returned to her office chair, a new message was waiting for her.

  ANONYMOUS: There are very bad people in Rootsville right now, Jasmine. I know you saw the news. I am here to warn you that The Morning Bell is next. Stay alert. Do not trust anyone.

  Fieldsofjasmine92: How would you possibly know that?

  ANONYMOUS: Let me create an addendum: Do not trust anyone except for me.

  Fieldsofjasmine92: Why should I trust you? Who is coming to The Morning Bell? Why would they do that to me or to anyone in Rootsville?

  Fieldsofjasmine92: What is going on?

  Fieldsofjasmine92: Hello?

  ANONYMOUS has logged offline.

  Jasmine stared at the screen for several moments, absorbing what had just taken place. Who was warning her about the possible crime taking place at The Morning Bell? Who would even know about that anyway? She felt a strange fear that caused the hairs at the back of her neck to stand on end. Before she could ponder the situation for too long, she heard a knock on the door. Calvin slowly opened her bedroom door, peeking his head in to speak.

  “Hey, Jas. I made it home safely. I just have a quick question.” He pointed toward the living room and whispered to her. “Why is there a young woman sleeping on our couch?”

  “Oh,” she stifled a giggle. “I forgot to mention that. She is Abby. Abby is staying with us for a while. She’s a waitress of mine and her parents kicked her out of the house. So, I told her she could crash here – at least until she finishes high school. She graduates soon anyway and she needs us.”

  He laughed softly and shook his head. “I figured as much. You’re still always saving baby birds from doom, aren’t you?”

  “You still remember that?”

  “How could I not? You’ve taught me a lot of things throughout my life, Sis. That’s one of the biggest: always be the hero.”

  She smiled in response, “I was just thinking of that today, actually. Anyway, enough about that situation. I’m so glad your job went well.”

  “It really did. I think this will be a huge deal for me. I’m actually good at it.”

  “I’m sure you are. Thanks for checking in with me. I promise I won’t bring home anymore stray humans,” she stated. He nodded and ducked out of the door, closing it shut behind him. She sighed and stared back at her computer, wishing that the anonymous person would pop back up and start speaking again.

  Chapter Six

  The anonymous sender never did log back on to finish the conversation. Several weeks passed with no word and no crime committed. Each night before locking up, she waited anxiously for someone to set fire to her building – but no one ever did. During the several weeks, everything ran as status quo. Calvin went to his new job daily, taking on more and more automotive repair projects.

  Abby’s parents still had not contacted her, so she remained at the apartment, mostly using it as a place to sleep. She often left to spend time at school, study at the library, or hang out with friends in between working hours at the café. Jasmine’s life was run by managing The Morning Bell, as per usual, but with an exciting twist – the addition of her loving boyfriend, Mason, to her daily life.

  The relationship between the two had ignited like a hot flame. Between the fantastic sex, romantic dates, and loving companionship, their relationship was moving along fast toward a future. The adoring couple worked together professionally all week long while she spent many nights at his place.

  Then, each Friday was a designated date night, where the two would go to see a movie, grab a nice dinner, or have a night inside devoted to sharing intimate details. She was in heaven with Mason and realized that she was swiftly falling in irrevocable love. Unfortunately, just like anything in life, things that tended to go well often never lasted that way for too long for Jasmine.

  Several weeks after their first date, she became very sick and was in a terrible mood as she entered the diner to work. After spending the morning with her face glued to the toilet bowl trying not to vomit, she wasn’t in the mood for any drama that day. It was as if fate had deemed it to be so, because Mason appeared at work that morning in a strange mood.

  He seemed distant and emotional, refusing to tell her what was wrong. Throughout their time dating, he still had not revealed much about his life. Due to his mysterious nature, whenever his mood became dismissive, it bothered her deeply. Usually, she buried her feelings to keep the relationship running smoothly, but on that particular day, she couldn’t stop herself from asking him what was going on in his head.

  “Hey,” she walked into the kitchen and tapped his shoulder, “what’s going on with you? Why are you acting so strange today?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He walked over to the sink and washed his hands to prepare for cooking that day.

  “Why won’t you talk to me?”

  “There’s just a lot that I can’t tell you. It’s not personal. There are just things that you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me. I want to know you, Mason. I want to know what goes on in your head. It makes me sad that I know what goes on with everyone in my life except for you. You’re the only person who I can’t figure out,” she begged. Suddenly, before she could stop herself, she whispered a sentiment they had not yet shared, “I love you.”

  He looked up from the sink and stared into her eyes. His face transformed from dismissive and angry to sad and distraught. She raised her eyebrows in confusion, unsure why he looked so torn. Her heart began pumping faster when he pulled off his hairnet and removed his apron, handing it to her. She asked what he was doing, and gasped silently when she noticed that his eyes were filled with tears. He strode up to her and placed both hands on her cheeks, kissing her in a way that made her feel as if it was the last time.

  “I love you, Jasmine. I told you I would always keep you safe, and I meant it.”

  Before she could respond, he turned around and walked out of the door and out from The Morning Bell, leaving her shocked and standing like a statue in the middle of the kitchen holding onto his apron and hairnet.

  Her mouth gaped open in utter shock. She could not grasp what had just happened. Did he just break up with her? Time slowed to a crawl as her brain attempted to catch up with the current situation, causing the room to spin gently – or was that the nausea? Her stomach twisted violently as she turned around to heave into the sink. Wiping her mouth, she sighed and s
traightened her blouse. Just as there are several stages of grief, there are also the same several stages of a break up – and her shock had just turned to bitter anger.

  “Well, fine,” she said to herself as she rolled her eyes with venom. “If he wants to be that way, then that’s perfectly all right. I suppose I’ll just get to work because at least someone cares about the customers.”

  Clearing her throat to place any tears on standby, Jasmine walked straight out of the kitchen and called for Abby, who quickly appeared in front of her.

  “Yes, ma’am?” Abby asked.

  “Come to the kitchen. I’m teaching you how to be a proper chef.”

  “Seriously?” she gasped, then squealed in excitement as she quickly followed behind. Jasmine had the tendency to lose herself in the lives of others when her own life did not work out too well. If she couldn’t be happy, she could at least improve matters for someone else – and who better than sweet Abby?

  The rest of the day was spent in the kitchen, teaching Abby the ins and outs of the chef career. Surprisingly, she caught on rather fast without much direction needed. Still, Jasmine felt the urge to be useful to someone, so she continued to teach; Abby, being the kind girl that she was, humored her by listening intently and following directions. After a long-winded tutorial on how to properly clean the cast iron skillet, Jasmine asked if she had any questions.

  “Not particularly,” she replied. “Well, at least not related to cooking. Is something wrong? You seem upset.”

  “I just don’t feel very well.”

  “I saw Mason leave,” Abby looked up at her with her big, round eyes full of empathy.

  “Chefs don’t usually last long at The Morning Bell. Hopefully you will be different, eh?”

  “Jasmine, I’ll be the best chef you could ever ask for,” she smiled, then continued. “I still feel like you’re upset, but I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. That’s fine though, because I have a plan.”

  “What kind of plan?” Jasmine asked suspiciously.

  It turned out, Abby’s plan consisted of making a batch of pancakes – dubbed “the world’s best,” although Jasmine did not quite buy her sales pitch. Regardless, she allowed Abby to make her recipe while she went to go lock up for the evening. As she walked out of the kitchen to do so, she was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of nausea.

  Trying not to make it seem as if it were a big deal, she slowly strolled over to the bathroom. Once inside, she turned the sink on full blast to cover the sound of her hurling into the toilet of one of the stalls. She sighed miserably at the gross, sick feeling that caused a bloating feeling in her stomach.

  Typically, she only had bloating near her menstrual cycle, so she began to wonder if she was due for one soon, as it had definitely been a while since she had started her period. In fact, she could barely remember the date of her last cycle. She shrugged it off. Stress tends to delay menstrual cycles anyway.

  Jasmine washed her hands and left the bathroom, feeling slightly better. The smell of cooking pancake batter welcomed her nostrils, causing her mouth to water with a ravenous hunger as she had forgotten to eat much throughout the day. She swiped the broom from the cleaning closet and began to clean up the café, enjoying the sight of Abby working hard in the kitchen – right where she was meant to be.

  Her auburn hair was pulled back in the hairnet and she smiled her sweet, toothy grin when she met Jasmine’s eyes. Jasmine frowned when she thought of what type of parents would kick that loving girl out of their home. All she ever wanted was to follow her dream to make and provide delicious food to others – how terrible of a dream is that?

  Abby was pouring chocolate chips into the batter when Calvin entered The Morning Bell from a long day at work. He was covered in grease and dirt and sniffed the air hungrily as soon as he walked inside.

  “Something smells absolutely delicious,” he rubbed his stomach dramatically. “Is that you, Abby?”

  “W-well,” she started, straightening her hair through the hairnet. “It’s not me per se; it’s the pancakes I’m making, though. You are welcome to try some.”

  “Yum. I can’t wait. I bet they taste fantastic if you made them.” He smiled at her.

  Jasmine watched as she smiled back shyly. Looking back and forth between Abby and her brother, she suddenly felt an odd mix of discomfort and excitement. Could a romance be blooming between the two? It would definitely explain Calvin’s sudden great mood lately. The two seemed to fit well together, especially since Abby had just turned eighteen with Calvin only a couple years older.

  Jasmine smiled and felt happy for them – if anything was even going on as she had assumed. She cleared her throat and shot a meaningful glance at Calvin, who returned her gesture with a pointed look, revealing that her suspicions must have been accurate.

  Although her day had not gone well, and her mind was racing with thoughts of where Mason could be, she felt a sense of comfort from the wonderful people in her life. Her stomach was racked with an uncomfortable nausea and her heart was painfully numb, threatening to break.

  Yet, simultaneously, she felt lucky to have Abby and Calvin around to keep her company so that she didn't feel so alone. When Abby’s head ducked back into the kitchen to finish making the pancakes, she sighed and tugged on Calvin’s shoulder to pull him aside.

  “What’s up, Sis?” he asked as if he didn’t already know.

  “Is there something going on between you and Abby?” she whispered, holding back her wishful smile.

  “What? No. Why?” he said rather faster than usual.

  “You guys have just really seemed to hit it off. I mean, she is pretty cute.”

  “Are you kidding me? She’s beautiful!” He caught himself. “That doesn’t mean I automatically have to like the girl. She’s just very nice to me, and most people usually don’t really give me the time of day.”

  “Hey,” she placed a hand on his shoulder, “I think it’s great. You guys would be sweet together and I like that she treats you well. You should go for it. Just don’t be a jerk and break her heart because that would be very awkward with her living in my apartment, okay?”

  He laughed. “Got it. By the way, when am I going to meet Mason? It’s been over a month and you still haven’t introduced me to your boyfriend.”

  “You may not be able to meet him at all. He acted strange today and suddenly left. I don’t know where he is or if he’s coming back.”

  “Wow,” Calvin shook his head. “It sounds like he’s being a real jerk.”

  “I’ll be okay. Hey, I’m going to take the garbage out, okay?” she yelled loud enough for Abby to hear, then winked at Calvin – motioning him to talk with his blooming romance. She quickly grabbed several garbage bags compiled from the cans and walked them through the kitchen toward the back door.

  A crisp breeze whipped at her face as she opened the door to the dumpsters. The smell of garbage burned at her nostrils, causing her to scrunch her face in a grimace. A gentle glow of moonlight created a sparkling shimmer that added a faux sense of beauty to the large dumpsters swarming with flies. She shoved the bags of garbage into the opening, then rested her back on the foundation of the building – allowing Abby and Calvin to have ample time to talk inside without worrying about her being around.

  She felt her bottom lip quivered slightly, as she had not yet been alone since Mason left that morning. Her heart felt as though the life was being sucked from it, shriveling it into nothingness. How could he have left in that way? They had a wonderful relationship that was finally lasting. She had never loved someone the way she loved him, burning with the intensity and brightness of the sun. He lit up her world and made her smile, making her think she had finally found the one. She gritted her teeth and kicked the dumpster. Hard.

  “Ouch!” she yelped and bent down to grab her toe when she saw red paint at her feet. That’s strange, she thought as she began to follow the trail. Splatters of bright red paint formed a line directly behin
d the dumpsters toward the wall – with the rest hidden just out of sight. Pulling her phone out of her back pocket, she turned on the flashlight to illuminate the path in front of her to better follow the trail to the source.

  As she rounded the corner, she rolled her eyes, assuming that an annoying teenager must have vandalized her building with graffiti. When she viewed the wall, however, her heart pumped violently and her mouth gaped open in horror.

  Written messily with bright red spray paint, ugly letters spelled out the warning: “You’re next.” Below the terrifying sentiment was a pile of matches symbolizing a frightening threat. Letting out a shocked gasp, she walked quickly backwards, causing her to trip and fall to the ground. As she quickly hopped back to her feet, she brushed off the scrapes on her hands and looked over toward the door where a sudden warm, oaky scent was permeating from the inside of The Morning Bell.