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    MAIDENS
on MERCURY
     
    I
turn off the vibration on my cell phone so I won’t notice when my cheating,
good-for-nothing newly ex boyfriend calls me again. And again.
    I
shove the phone into the front of my low-rise jeans pocket. “You’re such an
asshole!” I hiss through clenched teeth.
    “Excuse
me?”
    I
jump. I  hadn’t noticed the car pull up to the drive through. My face heats up
but I sigh with relief because it’s one of our regulars. Tessa Smothers won’t
be offended by my outburst. In fact, she’d likely agree. She knows my cheating,
good-for-nothing newly ex boyfriend.
    I
press a hand to my heart. “Oh, whew. I’m glad it’s just you.”
    “Thanks
a lot, Melody.” She gives me a look.
    I
giggle. “You know what I meant. I’m glad it was just you who heard me cussing
out Chase and not a different customer who might not be so understanding.”
    “What
did he do this time?”
    I
make my friend’s drink—she always orders a sugar-free white-chocolate
Americano. “I caught him fucking another girl last night.”
    Tessa’s
eyes widen. “Seriously? What a pig.”
    “He
swears he didn’t cheat, that it wasn’t what it looked like. Right.” I roll my
eyes, and it pisses me off they burn with unshed tears. He is so not
worth it. “I am so over men.”
    “Oh,
don’t say that. Your Mr. Right could show up any time now. It’d be a shame for
you to miss the opportunity.”
    I
resist the urge to roll my eyes again. Tessa is such a romantic, and sometimes
just a bit too Mary Sunshine. Not everything happens for a reason, and not
everybody gets a happy ending.
    “You’ll
miss the sex eventually,” Tessa says as I hand over the hot drink and take the
money in exchange.
    “I
didn’t say I was giving up sex. Just relationships.” I wink at my friend as she
drives off, but I really just want to hit something. Or scream at the top of my
lungs. I compromise by pulling a small bottle of whiskey from my purse and
chugging it. My boss would probably fire me if he saw me do that but—no,
he wouldn’t. I am his best barista. I bring in the most traffic. I might not
have the biggest tits, but I get the biggest tips.
    I
glance down at my meager cleavage, barely covered in the candy apple red bikini
top. If I ever make enough money, I’ll get a boob job. Working as a bikini
barista in Seattle might not be the most glamorous job in the world, and some
of my friends–and my mother–think I am demeaning myself, but pays
my way through college. So they can take their opinions and suck it.
    I
finish closing up for the night and grab the bag of garbage, holding it in one
hand while I set the alarm and lock the door.  The dumpster is on the other
side of the parking lot. I’ve  bugged the owner to put in better lights out
here. I hate closing by myself at night. Kinda freaks me out sometimes. I’m not
a wuss, but tonight I swear the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. I
feel like I am being watched.
    I
straighten my posture and lengthen my gait, trying to look strong and
confident. I don’t see anyone lurking in the shadows, but I adjust the keys in
my fist so my keys face pointy side out. Just in case.
    I
am halfway across the parking lot when the hairs stand up on the back of my
neck and I just know I am being watched. Stalked.
    I
spin around and see nothing but the buildings on either side of the coffee
stand, hear nothing but the occasional car driving by on the street.
    The
creepy feeling remains. I tighten my grip on my keys, and put a thumb onto the
panic button. Just in case.
    I
look around again. Nothing.
    It
never occurs to me to look up.
    * *
* *
    I
open my eyes and immediately slam them shut again, it is so bright. My eyes
feel gritty. My body is stiff and I try to stretch my muscles but can’t move. I
open my eyes again and blink a few times to acclimate them to the brightness.
    I
realize I’m naked and suspended spread-eagle by soft shackles on my ankles and
wrists. I squirm