Lions Eat Lambs Outtake - Felix Moore

A first-page-teaser of the Lions Eat Lambs Outtake: Felix Moore.

This is un-edited, so please forgive the craziness. 

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“Is it always like this?” he asked the plump, older woman as she slid his coffee over the counter. Black. No cream. A spoonful of sugar. Just the way he liked it.

“June and July are our busiest months. You came at a good time.” She smiled, bearing her perfectly straight, but discolored, teeth.

Felix nodded and raised his cup in thanks. “See you tomorrow morning.” He turned to face the line of people pegged all the way out the door, and he, now, understood why Hofer’s Bakery wasn’t to be missed. Their delicious food kept him coming back every morning since his arrival.

After filing past the tourists lined up to order their pastry and coffee, he found a seat on the deck of the old house so he could settle in to read the newspaper, drink his coffee and eat the delicious danish. And even though he wished it were quieter, like his apartment in Atlanta with all it’s familiar ticks and creaks, he enjoyed the hum of the crowd through the door, the clank of forks hitting plates, the whoosh of passing cars on Main Street and the cool, morning breeze whipping through the obstacles around him.

It was much different from the city, just what he needed for a weekend. He laid his leg across his knee, unfolded the paper and sipped his coffee loudly, spreading the sharp liquid across his tongue. A shadow moved over the porch, and footsteps, followed by the planting of a cane echoed through the wood, but he paid no further attention to the approach.

Sitting further away from the couple in the corner and closer to Felix, the man decided he’d enjoy the company of a quiet man more than a conversation between two people; they were too loud.

“Beautiful morning,” the man said, resting his black and silver cane against the arm of the chair and folding his leg over his knee.

Felix allowed the paper to lax, and a man came into view over the edge. Very dark sunglasses shielded his eyes from the world under the brim of his black homburg hat, but his deviant mouth ━ pink lips pushing dimples into pale skin ━  escaped the shadow and seemed to glow in the morning sun.

He eyed the man’s black suit, curious why such a young man would dress so formally. “Yes it is,” Felix muttered with disinterest. He didn’t wish to start a conversation with someone at the moment. It would throw off the routine he set for himself.

“You’re from the city,” he declared with surety.

“Yes.” Still not interested, Felix straightened his paper.  

“You’re here for pleasure.”

Felix nodded. “You?”

“Business and pleasure,” he said, holding the grin and his posture with great stillness.

Felix nodded once more and his eyes tripped over the front columns of the Sunday edition of the Atlanta Journal Constitution. He took another sip of his coffee then a bite of his danish.

“So.” The volume of his voice startled Felix. He muttered an obscenity then gave him a stern look over the paper, the jolted nerves still twitching under his skin. The man no longer sat a table away, he had silently moved next to Felix, inches away. “How long are you in town for?”

He released a sigh, realizing he wouldn't be rid of this persistent man easily. “I arrived Thursday and I leave tomorrow morning.”

“Back to the grid. What is your position in Atlanta?”

Position? What did he mean?

And as if reading his mind, he clarified, “What do you do?”

Oh, why didn't I think of that? “I’m a psychiatrist specializing in addiction.”

The young man leaned forward and flicked the brim of his hat up with his index finger. The cane pushed into the boards below as it bore his weight. “You’d get a kick out of me, Doc.”

“Is that so? You’re an addict?”

“You could say that.”

“I am saying that. Are you saying that?”

The young man’s lips stretched, revealing his white teeth. It was an unnerving smile, causing Felix to squirm in his seat. 

“I like you, Doctor.” He rose, inching around the tables and chairs to the exit. “You have a fire. Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

He disappeared down the stairs, happily planting the cane. His stride was perfectly balanced, showing no sign of actually needing it. Felix determined it was a mere accessory. He watched the young man stroll down the sidewalk for a moment then turned back to his paper and breakfast, not giving him another thought.