Warrior Twilight 2

Brooklyn was just tying the apron around herself when the first customer came in. She, like the vast majority of people that came into that coffee shop, was a regular, stopping by before she went off to work. "Hi, Margret."
"Hi, Brooklyn. I think I'll have a grande caramel macheato with my scone, today."
"Alright," she said back, pulling up her sleeves. Time to make some liquid awesomeness.

There was a relatively steady flow of people all morning, like usual. The owner, a nice woman with a sweet face that lived right above the cafe, had come downstairs shortly after Brooklyn had come in. "Hi, Lauren," Brooklyn greeted her.
Lauren was a very driven person. She was only in her lower thirties and already had two divorces under her belt, but no kids. Her hair was very dark brown, usually in a messy pony, or hanging limp from her head. Her thin lips, which gave the impression of seriousness, where nearly always pulled up in a smile, though when she got down to business she could be fierce.
Her figure was athletic with soft edges, but her movements where a little stiff. Her dark, happy eyes caught and held attention, even with being framed by slender, rectangular, black-rimed glasses.

In the time between breakfast and lunch time, when hardly any people came in, Lauren taught Brooklyn how to make the last of the drinks that she didn't know yet, which were the more complicated ones. Being a quick learner, she picked them up easily.
When noon rolled around, Lauren asked if she wanted to take her break early.

"What? It's almost rush-hour, what would you do?"
"Ha! I handled things just fine before I hired you, yaknow. I'm just thinking about your little tall, dark, and annoying."
"Whu-... Oh, you mean Mike? Heh, knowing my luck, today would be the day he decided to come in later for some reason. Besides, he doesn't bother me that much that I need to start avoiding him or anything. I mean, I have a fiance."
"Okay, just asking," Lauren mumbled with a smirk.

Ever since Brooklyn had started working there, Mike had started coming in everyday to see her. He was very nice, and made her laugh, and not only because she always got a little nervous when he was there.

Mike radiated thespian. He had a rememberable face, which showed his emotions clear as a day, and he was usually as happy as a puppy.
He had short, dark brown, curly hair, slightly thicker eyebrows, and brown eyes with full, black lashes.
He had a slender body, with a healthy amount of pudge on the tummy.
Work-wise, he had an acting job at some studio in Port Angeles on some show that was soon to come out on T.V. called 'Glee Two', or something.
Also, Mike liked Brooklyn. But every time his flirtatious intentions became a little too obvious, she'd equally obviously bring attention to the engagement ring on her finger, of which he would blatantly ignore the existence of.
Their conversations usually went something like this:

Mike would come in, chipper, and clearly not in the need of coffee. "Hello, Ladies," he'd say in a deep, joking voice, unbuttoning his coat.
"Hi, Mike," both of them would say, smirking to each other.
"Oh, Brooklyn, you look pretty today," he'd add, not really to anyone in particular, like he was just thinking out-loud.
"Yeah," she'd say back sarcastically. "It must be my engagement ring." Here she would hold her hand up next to her face and point to it.
"Oh, are those muffins fresh?" he'd ask, ignoring the comment, like usual.

This was usually when Lauren started cracking up, and things started to go farther down-hill: Mike would pull out the ridiculous pet-names.
"Hey, Pooky, could you grab me one of those coffee cakes?"
"Pooky?" Brooklyn would ask, trying for the life of her to keep a straight face, unlike Lauren who never even so much as tried.
"And maybe a green tea latte? Are those good, Honey Bear?"

By then, Lauren was usually reduced to sitting right where she was on the floor because her knees where too weak to hold her up from laughing so hard. "Honey Bear!" she'd exclaim, clutching her sides harder.
Eventually he was forced to actually order because Brooklyn would force out, "Mike, what do you want, you're holding up the line."
"A date?"
"I'm engaged!"
"Oh, rejected," he'd say like he had been slapped on the hand.
"I'm not rejecting you, I just don't think my fiance would like it if I went on a date with every overly persistent guy that walked in here!"
"Hey, so Friday?"

By that time Lauren had usually gotten a hold of herself, and simply made what he usually ordered.
"Mike, here, you have your drink, now leave," Brooklyn would say, forcing the drink Lauren had just handed to her into his hands.
"Alright, so see you Friday!" he would say, leaving before either of them had a chance to protest.

Then on Friday, he'd come in and pretend to be really bummed out that she indeed wasn't going on a date with him, but then lie and say "I was busy anyways," in a way which obviously meant he wasn't busy.
Then Brooklyn would remind him that, "This exact same thing happened last Friday, so I don't know why you thought anything different would happen. And next week, when you do the same thing, the same thing is going to happen." She always pretended to be very annoyed with the whole thing, but really she found his antics extremely cute. Besides, he was harmless.

That day, though, things went very different.
First of all, he came in later than he normally did. The lunch-rush was already gone, and only a few people where left nestled in the cafe's chairs, mostly reading books while listening to the calm, jazz-like music coming from the speakers scattered about the place.
Secondly, he looked very tired.

"Hey you two," he said with a wide, uncovered yawn.
"Mike, you okay?" Brooklyn asked with a slight smile.
"Yeah, but my idiot of a director forgot to tell someone to tell someone to pay for something, so we had to finish shooting during the night because they where going to turn something off."
"Oh no!" she sympathized.
"Yeah, so anyways, now I'm really tired." He smiled sleepily.
"Which is why you're here!" exclaimed Lauren. "What do you want?"
"I don't know, just make me anything warm."

While Lauren made the drink, Mike turned his attention to Brooklyn. "So, did you hear about that police that got shot?"
"What?" she asked, alarmed. Jordan, her fiance, worked on the force, and had been on duty since two that morning. She pulled out her phone as he explained.
"Yeah, I heard it on the radio right before I got here. They say he was on the trail of some drug dealer and got shot, right in the neck too. Didn't have a chance."

Jordan's cell had just rung for the third time. Lauren stopped making the drink, watching Brooklyn as she stood there, frozen, her hand covering her mouth. It rung again.
"Brooklyn, don't worry, it's not him, if it was, you know they would have called you."
Her phone beeped: call waiting.

It dropped from her hand, landing on the counter.

Mike realized he had made a mistake. But maybe... he slid her phone towards him, lifting it up to see the screen. 'City of Forks Department of Police', it read in black letters. The background, a picture of her and Jordan kissing, flashed silently.
Slowly, he set it back down. "Brooklyn, I'm... so sorry."
Her eyes and face turned red, and, blinking furiously, she tore her apron from her body and threw it towards the direction of the coat rack, hard-set towards the door. "I'm going... to the police station," she made out.
"Wait," Mike said, grabbing her arm as she walked by him. "Let me drive you."
Avoiding his gaze, she paused, and then nodded, so he helped her out to his car.