She hated her job but like her father said 'one has to make an income'. She felt bitter after year's of making coffee, the fake smiles, pretended happiness and the stupid old espresso machine in the casino she disliked most of all. 
Empty promises was all she got and nothing else. 
"Being a woman sucks in every way," she thought, "how come no guy makes coffee? I am sure the dumb machine is not invented by a woman."
She leaned against the bar and observed the visitors. No matter how they were dressed it was obvious to her who the poor bastards were, who the new rich ones and the real nobility. "The way people talk and act say more than the way they are dressed," she mumbled. She had learned that at a very young age. By now she was in her late thirties and not one of her dreams was realized. She knew people called her judgmental but she was not. She was an observer and had seen right through people from the first day they met and she had always been right if she had spoken out.
"You should not judge a book by its cover dear", her father had told her more than once. Never he'd admitted she was right and she regretted those times she had listen to him instead of her instinct. 

In thoughts, she made the cup of espresso ordered by a man in a tuxedo as the tumult behind her started. 
People were shouting and accusing a visitor of something that must be serious enough for the security to show up, drag a woman into their office and call for the police. She couldn't remember the police ever been called. 
"They say she robbed the bank, the cashier," the man in tuxedo said while sipping his coffee.
"How do you know?"
"I met her at the table..."
She raised an eyebrow and observed the man. He seemed amused. She didn't like him. 

_(Time up the story continues)_

The woman was in the office and she couldn't help observing her on her way to the toilets. At first sight, she was an elegantly dressed lady but she knew she was not. Did she do it and if so how come the money wasn't found? As far as she knew it was impossible to rob a casino and the way the guy at the bar had behaved.
"He did it", she thought, " I bet he was the one and the cashier is part of it. She's part of a set-up, used and keeps her mouth shut because..."
She walked to the cash desk and examined the cashier. He looked uneasy, nervous and creepy like usual. 
"A bad day for you," she said, "who ever thought the casino made such a big mistake."
"What do you mean," he stammered.
"It's all on tape. You, your mate, everything. She knows it too... about you, your... needs."
He swallowed and didn't know what to answer. Did she say the truth and if so could he trust her? He never had paid much attention to her. Not because she was a woman but because people scared him. They all scared him except the guy he recently met. He had approached him, seen him, not made a fool out of him, not like she had done as they were neighbouring, at high school and... 
"I tried to survive, had to survive she..."
"You are pathetic," she said.
"Not this time if... you help me, take it out of here for me."
She nodded as she left with a red backpack on one shoulder. They would meet again. 



![img_0.7663698846436092.jpg](https://images.ecency.com/DQmUuncumbGebyUXTD5SSimBXBUK41vpfD5HFAKqfa4uiaW/img_0.7663698846436092.jpg)









>The prompt, Espresso machine, is provided by @mariannewest.