1: How much for the lady?

Someone was watching Hana. No, not one. Three men were watching her. She quickly finished her tea, shoved her notebooks into her purse, and stood. The men didn’t move, and her shoulders sagged in relief. It must have been her overactive imagination. Her mother would tease her about having a mind too active for her age, but it was the price she had to pay for being a writer.

An upcoming writer. She wasn’t at the point she wanted to be just yet.

The coffee shop was almost empty except for the four of them and the staff on duty. Leah, an old friend, was behind the counter when Hana went to pay. Taking out money from her wallet, she pouted when her friend refused to accept it. This was one reason she hated eating here when Leah was on a shift. She never let Hana pay.

“Come on, you have to let me pay,” Hana said.

“You can pay when you become a bestseller.”

Hana’s smile faded. Her strict father considered her writing a useless hobby and was waiting for the right time to… She shook off those thoughts before they ruined her evening. She would run once she found that one book that would make her an international bestseller. But she wouldn’t go alone, she must get her mother and baby sister out of the house of that psychopath. For now, she had to endure him. All of them.

“Yeah,” Hana replied as she tucked her wallet into her bag. Leah braced her arms on the counter holding glasses of pastries. Hana was tempted to throw the money at Leah and run off. “But until that happens, you need your money. This shop needs it.”

The interior of this shop could use some renovations. Starting from the chipping paints of the wall to the tables and chairs that had been repolished too many times.

“We are fine—”

Hana looked up to see what caught her friend’s interest, and her throat dried up. It was one of those men from earlier, staring at her like he wanted to bend her over the counter and spank her. The image left bile in her mouth, a bitter taste she was used to.

Her shape and beauty got her more attention than she needed. Once, she had joined a pageantry to hasten her chances of leaving the house but had to quit when the organiser demanded to sleep with her before she could be given first place. After that, modelling was a no-go area for her.

The modelling agency wasn’t the only one with that erroneous belief that she was a pretty face and an easy lay. Book agents she had contacted in the past had been more interested in what she had between her legs than the novel she wanted to publish. So, she was doing this on her own.

One firm hand squeezed Hana’s shoulder, and she snapped out of her trip down memory lane. The familiar smell of cake, coffee, and other pastries filled her nostrils. She jumped, and the man chuckled. He was much taller than her with broad shoulders hidden in his tattered brown leather jacket, so she had to strain her neck to view him properly.

How dare he touch her? If Baba saw this, he would assume the worst of her. She took an instinctive step away from the invader, and her head lowered when he caught her staring. She wasn’t staring because she found him handsome or appealing. But because she was trying to find the best means to escape him without creating a ruckus.

The man grinned, flashing her his yellow teeth. Hana almost threw up. His breath smelt of cheap beer and weed. They must have mixed their coffee with beer because Leah’s shop didn’t sell alcohol. On instinct, she took another step away from the man. He glanced at the little space she created and covered it. Chills raced down her back.

For once, Hana wished she had listened to her mother and stayed at home today. She glanced at her friend for help, only to see she wasn’t the only person affected by his unwanted presence. He reeked of trouble, and she wanted to leave, but his friends were watching.

The man slapped two hundred-dollar bills on the counter and drawled out in a voice heavily slurred from drinking, “How much for the lady?”

“Excuse you?” Hana barked.

She was not for sale, even if her father thought so.

“For your coffee, ma’am,” he said, flashing her his tobacco-stained teeth. Hana gritted her teeth. She didn’t like coffee, and her tea and snacks hadn’t cost up to half of that amount. She was also fine without his help. “What’s a fine lady like you doing here?”

“If that will be all,” Leah spoke up for the first time since the man waltzed over to them like he owned the place. Hana sent her friend a smile of relief. “Please leave.”

He pulled out an additional hundred-dollar bill and slammed it on the countertop. “For our drinks.” He turned to Hana with a grin that made her blood run cold. She didn’t like to judge people by appearances alone, but this man looked and acted like a creep. And for your friend.” His hand reached for her jaw, but she dodged his touch. What the heck was wrong with him? Sure, she got the wrong attention, but no one was ever this touchy. “Sweet, I like ’em feisty.”

Leah banged her fists on the countertop. “Time to go.” She pointed to the door. “Out. All of you.”

After offering Leah a salute, he blew a kiss at Hana. The content of Hana’s late afternoon snack rushed up to her throat, and she breathed easier when he retraced his steps to his table. His friends were already on their feet, and they all turned to wave at Hana and Leah, who ignored them.

The ladies watched the drunken men exit the coffee shop, and only then did Hana relax a little. She needed to leave, but who was to say they weren’t out there lurking and watching her?

“I think you should wait a bit,” Leah offered like she had read Hana’s mind. Hana wasn’t willing to argue, so she nodded. “Let’s wait for Gerard.”

Gerard was Leah’s husband. They had been married for over two decades. Leah didn’t know, but some men in Hana’s books possessed Gerard’s manners and characteristics. She had watched the couple enough times to spin their romance into her books. Her phone vibrated in her purse before she could answer.

“It’s my mum,” she said, holding the phone up for Leah to see the caller. She picked up, and her mother’s voice came in immediately. The first thing she asked was for her daughter’s location, which she gave up. To avoid a lecture from her mother, she quickly added, “I’m already on my way home.”

Leah raised her brows, and Hana shrugged. Her mother allowed her to leave the house as long as it didn’t get her or her sister into trouble. But she needed to return home before her father arrived from work or whatever business meeting he was at now.

“I’m in an Uber. You will see me soon,” she said into her cell. As she said this, her forefinger jerked, and she hid her hand behind her. Hana cut the call before her mother could say more. Leah shook her head in disappointment, and she felt bad for lying. But lying was easier. “What?”

“Why did you have to lie?”

Because as much as Hana’s mum claimed to understand her, she shared the same archaic values as her father. They would marry her off to a stranger once the chance presented itself. She decided against speaking. Leah would not totally get it.

Leah believed in love, but love didn’t matter in Hana’s world. It was second to connection and wealth. Hana peeked at her wristwatch. Twenty minutes had passed. The men must be gone.

“I should go now,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Leah picked up her phone on the counter and nodded at the door. It reminded Hana of those men, but they would have gone. “Gerard should be here any second. He can drop you off at yours.”

Hana rejected the suggestion before it was completely out of the woman’s mouth. As far as Leah was concerned, Hana was the only surviving daughter of a poor single mother. She wanted to keep it that way.

“I don’t think it’s safe, Hana.”

But Hana had to refuse the offer. One, she didn’t want Leah to know her house. Two, her father wouldn’t welcome Leah. The owner of a coffee shop was beneath them.

“I’ll be late, Leah, and if I’m late, I won’t be allowed to come here anymore.”

“You’re twenty-three,” Leah cut in. Age didn’t matter to Baba except when it came to business deals. “They can’t ground you.”

“Twenty-five,” Hana corrected with a fake smile. Well, she would be twenty-five in six months, then her life would officially no longer be hers. Again, Leah wouldn’t get it. “It’s more complicated than my stories.”

The older woman stared at her for so long that she squirmed. “More complicated than your books? That’s something, since all your stories are twisty,” Leah said. A smile landed on Hana’s lips. Asides from her kid sister, Leah was the only one she allowed to read the words she bled into paper. She wasn’t ready to share her books with the world. Well, she was, but she couldn’t afford an editor or cover designer. “Give me a call when you get home, alright?”

“I will, I promise.” They hugged over the counter, and Hana slowly let go of the woman. On some days, she felt closer to Leah than she did with her mother. “Bye-bye, Leah. Send my greetings to Gerard.”

“He will hear,” Leah added.

Hana walked out of the coffee shop, and the chill January air swept her messy hair into her face. The air smelt of sweat and fumes from the cars speeding past her. She loved it. Rumbling from the distance made her look up. Lighting forked through the skies, and she grinned. Another thing she loved was the rain. So instead of ordering a cab, she started walking in the direction of her house.

A few feet down the alley she took to protect herself from the light rain, she noticed them.

The same men from the coffee shop.