"Hey, I'm talking to you!"
Leo snapped, his voice suddenly loud enough to draw glances from nearby tables. "What's your problem? Are you too good for me? Candice sets me up with her charity case friend and you can't even bother to make conversation. Unbelievable."
Aleen's gaze lifted to meet his. The feigned nervousness was gone, replaced by a profound, unnerving calm. She interrupted his tirade, her voice quiet but carrying the sharp edge of shattered glass.
"You said you work at Wells Fargo?"
Leo blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. Then he puffed out his chest, assuming her interest was finally piqued. "That's right. Credit department. Big responsibilities."
A faint, cold smile touched Aleen's lips. It didn't reach her eyes.
She picked up her phone. Her fingers, steady and precise, flew across the screen. She navigated to a contact she hadn't thought of in over a decade-a regional vice president at the bank, someone she'd noted down during a case study for her business degree.
She composed a new text message.
Subject: Formal Complaint - Employee Misconduct.
To Whom It May Concern: I am writing to report inappropriate behavior by one of your credit department employees, Leo Nash. During a meeting, he used his position to harass me, implying that sexual favors could lead to preferential loan terms and kickbacks.
Leo was still talking, bragging now about how he could get anyone a low-interest car loan. "It's all about who you know," he said with a wink.
Aleen added his employee number to the text-a detail she'd plucked from his earlier boasting. She attached a fabricated but plausible client ID number.
Her thumb hovered over the send button. She looked at him, at his smug, predatory face.
She pressed send.
She put her phone down and picked up her lukewarm latte.
"So," Leo said, leaning even closer, his breath sour. "Are you impressed? Maybe we could go somewhere a little more... private."
Aleen stood up. Her movements were fluid, unhurried.
Leo's face broke into a sleazy grin. He thought she had agreed.
Without a word, Aleen tilted her wrist. The latte, a sticky mixture of coffee and milk foam, cascaded down from the top of his head. It streamed over his shocked face, soaking the collar of his expensive, crisp white shirt.
The entire coffee shop fell silent. Every head turned to watch.
At that exact moment, Leo's phone began to vibrate violently against the table. The screen lit up with the name of his department head.
Aleen looked down at the dripping, stunned man. Her voice was clear and steady, cutting through the silence.
"That's for harassing me."
She paused, letting the words hang in the air.
"And by the way," she added, her tone utterly flat. "Your career is over."
Leo stared at her, then at his buzzing phone, his brain unable to process the sequence of events. He wiped a dollop of foam from his eyebrow, his expression a mask of pure confusion.
Aleen didn't give him a second glance. She pulled a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet and slapped it onto the table.
Then, she turned and walked away.
She could feel the eyes of everyone in the cafe on her back, but she didn't care. She pushed open the glass door and stepped out into the cool October air, leaving the wreckage of Leo Nash's life behind her in a puddle of spilled coffee.
The first score was settled. Nine days left.
