Thanks for the support!
Chapter Four:
Ashly put down the last chairs at the Hugo Café.
"Everyone ready?" she asked cheerfully.
"No!" one person jokingly shouted.
"Never!" shouted another.
Ashly unlocked the doors.
"Come on in!" she said with a wave.
People slowly shuffled in. It was like the walking dead had come for brains to re-energize to appear human again.
Orders were given and names were taken. The machines burst to life with a loud fury of beans being grinded, and frappes were whipped. Cash registers dinged and either people thanked their baristas or cursed them for not getting the order right. Such was life at the coffee shop.
The air grew pungent with the aromas of all things related to coffee. Ashly couldn't say she loved the job or the hours, but she preferred it over waiting tables. It wasn't her part of her plan to become a shift manager, but she took it as a way to pay the bills. There were worse things to do in this town for a living while pursuing a dream.
"Hi," Karen, the afternoon shift manager said as she arrived in the break room. "Anything new?"
"The expresso machine continues to have a mind of its own. The health inspector is due at three and I think Maya is ditching work again to audition for the new HBO drama needing actors with southern accents."
"Like I care about all that," she said dismissively. "What about you? How was your vacation?"
"Nothing special happened," she said.
"Liar," Karen said. "What happened?"
"My father," she said with a sigh. Ashly didn't feel like playing twenty questions.
"Your brother actually talked you into seeing him?"
"He made a good case financially," she said looked up at the lights filled with bugs and sighed. "The monster bragged about killing one guy and was plotting to kill another who happened to be a federal agent."
"Do you know if he actually killed the agent?" Karen asked anxiously.
"No, the agent got sprung before then. Apparently, he was being framed by someone he put away with the help of a guard."
"That is not nothing, you know," Karen said. "That is quite a story."
"It is not a story, it is what happened last weekend, Karen."
She shook her head. "Can't you see what is in front you? There's the story for your next screenplay!"
"My murderous father?" she asked dubiously. "I don't want to write about him."
"No, silly," she said. "The federal agent framed for murder!"
"It sounds like a lot of research," Ashly said.
"It isn't a documentary," she said. "Not even an 'inspired by true events' story. Throw in some flavor like a love story."
Karen was married with two kids in middle school. She liked to live out her creative fantasies through her. Though she might be on to something.
"Who would it appeal to though?" she asked.
"Anyone who wants a fast-paced thriller about a man fighting to survive behind bars while his lover fights to clear his name," she said dramatically.
"It sounds like a lot of work," she said thoughtfully.
"Since when has that scared you away?" she said and put an apron on. "I better get going before it gets too crazy out there. Good luck and my name better be in the credits if this story goes into production!"
Ashly picked up her things. "Have fun."
"You too!" Karen said. "Get writing!"
As Ashly left she thought about the scrawny-looking man she saw on her way out of the infirmary. Add a little muscle mass, get rid of the facial hair, and with a little conditioner to the hair, he could be an action hero.
After a quick nap, she booted up her computer. After plugging in a few key words about a federal agent and murder, she found the story of Spencer Reid. He was a young, highly-decorated agent, accused of killing a dual citizen in Mexico. Since he only just got out, the stories surrounding his release were vague. Corruption in the prison system, an inmate manipulated another woman who was the subject of an AMBER alert into killing for her. There was a thick haze of mystery covering story of how Spencer Reid got out.
Ashly looked at his mug shot. He looked so dazed and confused. She didn't know him yet she felt sorry for him.
"Who are you?" she asked.
