“Dana, I’m so sorry for asking you to come in this morning.”

“It’s all right. We were just supposed to work on a project today in class, which I already finished so I would have skipped anyways.”

Martha laughs, shaking her head while tying her hair up. She called early this morning saying two workers called off sick and no one else was responding, so, I happily came in to pick up a shift. Although I will be leaving early to get to my second Tuesday class. That means I won’t be able to return Matt’s umbrella today since we won’t see each other, but I doubt he’ll mind.

So, with only two workers, Martha and I open the store for the early students and hungry office workers. One by one people start piling in for some breakfast. The shop is filled with yawns and tired eye rubs, myself included. Well, not so much the eye rubbing considering I am working with food, but a lot of turning my head to yawn over my shoulder for sure. Morning shifts are rough, even if I always work them on the weekends.

The line is rather long considering how early it is, but it’s understandable with only two of us. I rush to get as much done as I can, happy that customers aren’t trying to converse. I may smile but that’s part of my job. I’m not actually interested in talking with strangers. It gives me the shivers. With so many realizing we’re rushing, at least that makes many keep their mouths shut and just go, go, go.

Then the customers start to dwindle down and it’s much more calm. Now some are trying to small talk, which results in some forced laughter and awkward smiles from me. Which only worsens when a familiar face walks in, head down and earbuds in with a bodyguard in toe.

W-W-What is Matt doing here?

I guess it is almost time for class, but shouldn’t he be eating caviar or lobster? I don’t know, that’s ridiculous for anyone to have for breakfast, but please, for my sake, be ridiculous!

“Crap!” I shout when I drop an entire bottle of mayonnaise on the floor. Martha jumps in shock from the sound. The bottle basically exploded, now there’s mayonnaise everywhere.

“I’ll clean it up, keep the line moving,” Martha orders, rushing in the back to grab a mop.

Of course the noise garnered all the customer’s attention, including Matt’s. I’m not surprised to catch him looking at me, although I’m curious why he looks shocked to see me here. He knows I work here, he gave me a ride. Whatever, I can’t think about it. It’s just me so I gotta keep moving.

Three customers go by. Martha has managed to clean up my mess and ring them out while Matt finally steps up. His earbuds are hanging around his neck now.

I can’t lie about feeling awkward when I ask, “What can I get for you?”

Just when Matt is about to answer, a new voice cuts in. A man that has just come into the store, dressed in some nice jeans and a button down. All he does is call Matt’s name, obviously earning our attention as he comes over with his phone held out. It isn’t until he’s closer, having pushed past those in line, that I see his screen. He’s recording audio.

“Matthew Jeneviere, right? Would you mind talking to me for just a few minutes?” The man asks and is immediately pushed back by a titan stepping between them, Matt’s bodyguard. When he crosses his arms he somehow seems to grow causing everyone to give an audible gulp.

“Ah, I-I work for a local paper. H-Here, my card.” The man reaches into his back pocket in a rush, pulling out a card that he tries to hand to Matt, but the bodyguard gives a death glare. I give the reporter credit. He has the guts to slide the card between the guards arms, which earns him a raised brow. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

“Dude, we’re all trying to get something to eat, move out of the way!” A patron shouts, another follows after him complaining about class. Now Martha’s attention is grabbed. She was checking out a few more customers but her eyes are now narrowed on the reporter causing a scene.

Matt ends up letting out a heavy sigh. He taps the back of his bodyguard’s shoulder then walks to a table across the room. The bodyguard scoffs, finally letting the reporter pass him, following him to the table where they speak in hushed voices that I can’t hear. However, when I get the chance, I glance over out of the corner of my eye.

Matt is clearly uncomfortable, sitting at the table with his arms crossed and lips set into a firm line. His eyes are closed. Again, he’s picking at his fingernails, constantly flicking at his thumbnail or simply scratching them. But it’s clear that the reporter isn’t getting the answers he wants, or any since I haven’t seen Matt’s lips move much at all.

Is he just talking to him so everyone can get their food in peace? But that isn’t fair. Matt should be able to get a meal without being bothered too. Everyone should have the common sense to leave him be when he’s trying to eat breakfast (or just in general, come on, give him a break). Who the hell does that guy think he is anyway? Coming running in here to bug a student, what a jerk!

Matt suddenly stands. The bodyguard is keeping the reporter back, but his voice is rising so all can hear. “Everyone has a lot of questions about your sudden absence. Is it true you went to rehab?”

The store falls silent. All turn to the reporter that is immediately pushed away from Matt.

“That’s enough. You’re lucky to have gotten the time that you did. Get out of here,” the bodyguard snarls in a deep voice, pressing the reporter farther and farther back.

“It’s been two years since that party and you haven’t said a word!”

Then, as if someone suddenly turned on the faucet, whispers start flowing from one person to the next.

“Oh yeah, two years ago, there was that big drug bust at some celebs party.”

“Matt was one of them?”

Matt’s shoulders are stiff. Even from here I spot his hands turning into fists in his pants pockets.

“So he’s just another drugged up celebrity? Eh, I wish my life was so miserable that I had a Mercedes.”

“What a waste of talent.”

“Sir!” I shout, not realizing I have done so until the reporter is looking at me in confusion.

Cool, I’m confused too, and now very worried because the entire store is focused on me, even Matt. I refuse to look at him though when my hands start to shake beneath the counter.

“I-If you aren’t g-g-going to purchase a-anything...then you n-need to leave. You’re m-making the customers un-uncomfortable and causing a scene.”

“Huh?”

“I said...y-you are making everyone uncomfortable so, i-if you a-aren’t buying anything then leave.”

The reporter furrows his brows in annoyance. “Fine, I’ll get something in a minute.”

“No,” Martha chimes in, standing next to me with a heavy sigh. “Order something now or get out of here. We’ve all put up with you long enough.”

The reporter scoffs, stepping back with clear annoyance in his eyes until the bodyguard clears his throat. Then he looks up with wide eyes, realizing that he is far more scared of him than us, and finally sputters out, “Ok, ok, I’ll get something now.”

It’s actually funny how everyone let’s him step first in line just to get him out of here. However, once he’s standing in front of me, Matt leaves.

I barely have enough time to see him walk by before he’s out the door with his guard right behind. Of course the moment the bell is heard Mr. Idiot Reporter is looking around like a prairie dog, realizing his scoop is gone then running after him.

“What a jackass,” Martha mutters under her breath then gets back to work.

Sadly, so do I. But my mind can’t get off Matt for the rest of the day.

Is he ok? Because he didn’t seem to be. Having someone trying to pry into my personal life, even if it seems like most people are aware of whatever this incident was two years ago, would bother me to no end.

After work I’m tempted to message him, but I don’t know what to say. Should I ask? I don’t even know what I’m asking about because this incident from two years ago is not something I’m aware of. I don’t want to look it up either.

In the end, I say nothing. Matt never messages me either, not that I expect him to, but it further cements the thought that I shouldn’t ask. However, that doesn’t stop the reporter from getting out an article the very next day that becomes the talk of the school. Matt doesn’t show up. I don’t blame him. 

Suddenly, I can’t avoid the story at all.

“He must have gotten out of rehab and came to school to keep him on the DL.”

“I bet his mom was furious. Isn’t she some hot shot business woman? Something Beauty, right? Her company took a big drop in sales after that giant ass drugs bust.”

“It’s not surprising, I bet every celebrity shoots up with something. Matt probably still does, rehab is totally a cover up story.”

I end up listening to music for most of the day, not wanting to hear anymore of it. Especially considering all these people are the ones that are supposedly Matt’s friends. I don’t think friends should be talking behind their friends backs. 

Then lunch rolls around and, of course, Tori tries to interrogate me.

“Tell us what happened,” he says the moment he takes a seat at the lunch table.

“What?”

“You were working yesterday morning, right? So you were there while that reporter was interviewing Matt.” Tori grins from ear to ear at having managed to put it together. “Was Joey with him? Did he beat the guy up? Tell us the details!”

Joey? Must be the bodyguard. The name is even bodyguard-esque. How’d Tori find out though?