Chapter 115: I Want Coffee

Chapter 115: I Want Coffee The heat of the sun pressed down as Heather trailed behind Lauren, her arms weighed down with shopping bags. Designer logos from Chanel, Balenciaga, and Fendi dangled off her wrists like shackles. Her lower back ached, and her shoulders were stiff, but she kept her posture straight, her face blank. Lauren walked ahead like she owned the pavement, strutting confidently in high heels, sunglasses perched on her nose, and her assistant trailing quietly behind, typing something on her phone. Everywhere they went, heads turned. Cameras clicked. Paparazzi hovered nearby, careful but present. Heather couldn’t help but feel ridiculous—here she was, carrying bags like a personal shopper, while the same woman blackmailing her strutted free. They finally stopped in front of a crowded coffee shop, the smell of espresso and warm pastries wafting through the open door. Heather shifted the bags on her arms, already planning how quickly she could be done with this. But before she could even catch her breath, a young woman in her early twenties approached, her face lighting up like she’d seen a movie star. "Wait... are you Heather?" the girl asked, her eyes wide, and her phone was already in hand. Heather forced a polite smile, brushing strands of hair away from her face. "Yeah... that’s me." Before Heather could say another word, Lauren leaned forward, slipping off her sunglasses. "You probably know me too." The fan’s eyes darted to Lauren, hesitating for a moment. Then, her face lit up with recognition, but it wasn’t the reaction Lauren was hoping for. "Oh my God," the girl said, her voice tinged with awe. "You’re Heather’s mom, right?" Lauren froze. Heather bit back a laugh, watching Lauren’s expression shift — shock, then offense, masked quickly with a brittle smile. She glanced down at herself, smoothing the front of her designer dress, as if reminding herself she looked nothing like someone’s mother. "I’m Lauren Remington," she corrected, drawing out her name like it should mean something more. "Surely you remember." The fan’s eyes lit up again, but this time with awkward realization. "Oh... yeah! You’ve changed. I used to love you back in the day." Heather tried — she really did — not to smirk. Lauren’s nostrils flared faintly, but she kept her smile intact. "Do you want a picture?" she asked, saccharine sweet. The fan nodded eagerly, handing Lauren her phone. But instead of standing beside Lauren, she stepped in close to Heather, slipping an arm gently around her waist. Lauren’s hand tightened around the phone for a second, but she lifted it, mask still on, snapping a few quick photos. "You’re so beautiful, Heather," the fan gushed. "I mean, seriously. You’re flawless in person." Heather murmured a polite thank you. Lauren’s jaw clenched as her sunglasses slipped slightly down her nose. She snapped her fingers at the bouncer and the security guard gently gestured for the fan to leave. Lauren bit her lip, the faintest shade of embarrassment coloring her cheeks."You paid her, didn’t you? You’re so pathetic." Heather crossed her arms. "What are we even doing here? It’s nearly noon, I have a brand deal to shoot." Lauren straightened her shoulders, tossing her hair. "I want coffee." Heather snapped her fingers at the quiet assistant nearby. "You heard her, grab her coffee." The assistant started forward, but Lauren caught her wrist. "No," Lauren said, voice turning syrupy and commanding. "Heather can get my coffee." Heather’s brows lifted. She stared at her, the disbelief plain on her face. "You want me to get your coffee?" "Would that be a problem?" She asked, her eyes danced with challenge, as she gestured toward the shop. "You’ve got to be kidding me," Heather frowned. Not only did she want her to be her personal shoppers now she wants her to be personal coffee go-getter? Lauren smiled sweetly. "Smile, Heather. You look so sour." Heather’s lips pressed together in defiance. But before she could react, the door opened and a woman rushed toward Lauren. "Oh my God, Lauren, babe!" the woman squealed, arms outstretched. Lauren’s icy exterior melted instantly. "Trisha, darling!" They hugged, their laughter loud enough to draw attention. Heather observed the woman — tall, sleek, ginger head, with an accent that clung to her. It sent a strange shiver down Heather’s spine. She squinted, trying to place where she had heard it. That accent: It was familiar, disturbingly so. "Go get the coffee," Lauren ordered smoothly. "One for me. One for Trish." Heather hesitated, her eyes locked on Trish. The accent rattled in her mind for a while. Without another word, she entered the coffee shop and ordered two lattes, then sat by the window, her phone in hand. Her instinct made her replay the video footage—the one haunting her every moment. The dead boy, the music, the laughing voices of women around her. She slipped in her earbuds, and raised the volume up. "...She likes it..." The voice curled around her brain. Her spine stiffened. "...Don’t stop. Keep doing that..." Another voice, the same heavy Russian accent. "Boy, come-on." Heather’s heart thudded painfully. Her eyes darted back outside—Trisha stood beside Lauren, laughing. "Come-on, babe." The same dragged-out "come-on" in that familiar accent. She was there the night of the party! What the hell did that mean? Heather’s mind was trying to piece the puzzle together; so she kept replaying the video. "What are you watching?" The voice startled her so much her phone nearly slipped from her hands. She looked up, blinking at the tall figure standing beside her table; Jake. "Oh, I didn’t mean to scare you," Jake apologized, sliding into the seat across from her, his presence calm but commanding. Heather couldn’t stay mad — not at that face. His eyes looked tired, his expensive watch peeked from under his cuff, and he wore a suit to a coffee shop. "How are you, Heather?" he asked softly. She sighed, tucking her phone away. "I’m alive." "Alive," he echoed, nodding. There was a heaviness behind that word, a quiet reference to his battle with cancer she knew too well, she began regretting. "What are you doing here?" Heather glanced around. "What everyone does in a coffee shop." Jake smiled faintly. "No. I mean, why are you here? You usually send someone to get your coffee." Heather’s eyes shifted to Lauren and Trisha outside. "Wanted to come myself." Jake’s gaze lingered, curiosity simmering beneath. "I haven’t heard from you since... that day?" Heather exhaled. "Didn’t know you wanted to." He smiled faintly, resting his hands on the table. "I’m a coward sometimes. Should’ve handed you my card that day." Heather gave a tired smile. "You didn’t think it was a good idea, given I’m married?" Jake’s face sobered. "I figured Caius wouldn’t like it." Heather’s eyes darkened. "Well, Caius doesn’t control who I talk to." Jake chuckled, the sound low, weathered by experience. "I’m not exactly good at not being possessive." Heather tilted her head. "What?" Jake corrected himself quickly. "I mean Caius. He’s the possessive one, not me." Heather rolled her eyes. "Possessive people irritate me more than anything." Jake raised an eyebrow. "Why marry him, then?" Heather looked away, her voice dropped. "It’s a ridiculous marriage. I didn’t marry for love. And... I don’t want to talk about Caius." The glass behind Jake tapped sharply. Lauren, outside, knocking. Her expression soured when she saw Heather sitting comfortably, chatting. But when she noticed Jake, everything about her shifted. She came inside quickly, fake surprise lacing her voice. "Mr. Calloway? What are you doing here?" Jake’s expression remained calm, but he was slightly offended by Lauren’s presence."Getting coffee." Heather’s name was called from the banister. She excused herself, collected the drinks, and paid. When she returned, she handed one coffee to Lauren. She was still talking to Jake about a movie she was acting in. She wanted him to sponsor it. "Send the script over and I’ll review it." "Thank you." Lauren smiled as she took a sip from the coffee. Just as it went it, she spat it out dramatically. "What is this?" Lauren snapped. "Creamed latte." Heather smiled. "Are you dumb? You know I’m lactose intolerant!" Heather raised an eyebrow. "I know. That’s why I picked what I wanted. You never told me your order." She took the coffee from Lauren’s hand and sipped casually. "Hmm, creamy..." Lauren’s eyes burned. "You stupid little—" She raised the cup, aiming to splash the hot coffee on Heather’s face, but Jake’s hand caught hers mid-motion, gripping her wrist. "That’s not necessary, is it?" he said calmly. "You don’t want to start a scandal." Lauren’s eyes darted around, noticing phones pointed at them. People were watching. Her fake smile returned in seconds. "Let’s meet at the car," she whispered sharply. She turned, heels clicking against the floor as she walked away. Jake turned to Heather. "I thought you were getting coffee for yourself, not playing assistant." Heather shrugged. "It doesn’t matter." Jake pulled out a sleek black card, handing it to her."It’s official; I’m interested in knowing you better." Heather pocketed it with a faint nod, then headed for the door.