Get Me Some Vodka
Shaw didn’t know if it was done to piss her off or not, but from every day forward the woman would purchase only water. She wouldn’t even purchase a cheap $3.54 Mocha… Only free water.
Harold, Shaw’s boss, said that this counted as a purchase for her.
Shaw thought that it was all a load of bullshit.
Harold was scared of this woman, and she didn’t know why. She could see something flash in his eyes every time he hobbled around the Café, checking tables and greeting customers. He never greeted the woman, though… Which furthered Shaw’s curiosity even more.
“Is she your long lost daughter or something?”
Harold pursed his lips and turned back to his computer. “No…” He murmured at last, “Ms. Groves, or Root… Is… Well, I’ve known her for some time. Indirectly at least.”
“And now she’s here? Is she stalking you?” Shaw’s back stiffened, “do I need to do something about her?” The question flew out without control, and she was understandably relieved when Harold brushed it off.
“No. She’s not a danger…” He cleared his throat, “she just knows that I provide excellent internet service.”
“Do you have a private server or something?”
“I guess you could say that.”
Shaw stopped there, not willing to delve into it further. This was oddly abstract for Harold- and she didn’t know much about the technological world, so she felt that pushing and intruding more could end in an undesirable fashion. Still, it was weird.
From that conversation onward, Shaw watched this “Root” a little more closely.
“Do you want to go and grab a bite to eat some time?” Root lifted her hands from her keyboard before looking to a bewildered Shaw.
“Excuse me?” Sameen, who had been walking by Root with coffee in hand for the twentieth time that day, stopped dead in her tracks.
“You keep coming up to me like you’re going to say something,” she explained, “I couldn’t help but hope that ‘something’ would be a date request.”
“Nope,” she stated.
Root frowned.
“But thanks for the offer. Now I can cross ‘get asked out by an annoying and suspicious nerd that comes to the coffee shop every day without ordering anything except for my patience’ off of my bucket list.”
Before she could retort, the sharp sounds of multiple gunshots echoed through the still café air. Shit.
They had found her, just like a bullet had found Sameen’s left arm. The moment Root looked upon Shaw, worry etched into her features, she slapped down her glass pitcher of coffee and grabbed at her newly freed hand. Sameen winced and pulled back, if only for a moment. As soon as another gunshot rang out, Root had pulled Sameen out through the back of the café and into the women’s restroom.
“Shit, who the hell was that?” Sameen questioned, ripping off her apron and tearing away at one of its straps. Root looked upon her with interest and concern, ready to help, but was eventually shut down as Sameen began patching herself up. “Are you listening to me?” Her stern brown eyes looked up towards Root’s.
“Definitely not the CIA,” she started, “probably an independent organization.”
Shaw huffed, “wow, thanks, that helps a lot.” Shaw had learned a lot about governmental tirades, and it was no surprise that this wasn’t one of those. “What I’m trying to get at is what do they want?”
“Probably me.”
Shaw had to do a double-take at the quickness of her answer. She sounded pretty confident, and this was not something she should have been confident over.
“What the fuck do you mean probably you?”
Root gently began backing both herself and Sameen into one of the blue stalls, locking the door as footsteps neared. Casually, Root ducked down and placed one foot on the toilet seat, and then another before inviting Shaw up with her. She beckoned her forward rapidly, holding out her hand… Which Shaw quickly swatted away. “There’s a reason I like Harry’s Wi-Fi so much,” she started. “It’s a heavily-encrypted proxy network. Which,” she shrugged, “in my line of work is very. Important.”
Shaw’s racing heartbeat seemed to drown out the sounds of Root’s careful whispers. This was not cool, she noted. Not her ideal way of ending the week. What was even less cool was that when Root was leaning forward, giving away useful information, Shaw couldn’t even pay attention. All she could do was feel this woman’s hot breath on her cheek, tickling her ear, making her squirm. As soon as she tried to duck away, a quick sploosh sounded around the duo and a certain coolness washed over Shaw’s right foot. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Her foot was now one pound heavier with piss water.
Sameen allowed her teeth to set, back molars pressing against each other out of utter annoyance. Before she could take it out on Root, the bathroom door opened and the sound of shuffling feet sounded around them. Shaw took in Root’s crouched posture and replicated it, to which she earned a smug grin from Root in return. ‘You’re short enough as is. No need to duck,’ [the look] said.
As soon as they got out of this stall, a tanned fist was going to find itself firmly set against a soft cheek. Repeatedly.
The men outside the stall shuffled around a little more, checking under each door before starting to push them open down the line. At this rate, the two of them were screwed… Until,
“Sir, the back door was just opened!”
Shaw let out a small sight of relief, “saved by the asswipe…”
Root smiled calmly and stepped down from her toilet–perch. Saved, indeed. Before she could turn around and make any sort of comment towards the shorter woman, a hiss erupted from [Shaw’s] lips and silenced her own. There was another gunshot wound, this one was on her left calf and had been completely missed. Without a moment’s notice, Root ducked herself below Shaw and under her arm, acting as a human crutch.
“We need to get you to the hospital.”
“No,” Shaw retorted, “no, I can take care of myself. Thank you. Plus, I really don’t have the wallet for a twelve-grand hospital bill.”
“That was really specific.”
Shaw rolled her eyes. “Get me a knife, a lighter, and some vodka. I’ll be fine.”
“Will do.”
Together they wait in silence for a few moments, Shaw comfortably supported atop Root as they begin to weigh their options.
“… Really, I need some Vodka.”