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“Good morning.” I don’t have to look at him to know he’s speaking to me; I can feel his gaze on me. Every Friday, it’s the same thing… I pretend to be busy while he watches me until eventually he catches my eyesight and my face flushes and my stomach flip-flops.
“Good morning.” I smile, the words sounding rushed and way more chipper than I intend. I grab a towel and busy myself with cleaning off the counter before calling out the last two orders that are still sitting at the pickup area.
I don’t know a single thing about this mysterious man, not even his name… I take that back; I know his coffee order. After seeing him every single Friday for the last nine months or so, I can still barely bring myself to make eye contact with him.
“So, how’s your Friday going?” Matilda asks the man as I pour his coffee. “Got any fun date plans tonight?”
My face flames at Matilda’s overt attempts to find out if this man is single. Last Friday she asked him if he was taking his wife out for dinner. Somewhere along the way, Matilda decided this man has a thing for me and she’s determined to find out why he hasn’t asked me out.
“Date plans?” he says slowly, repeating the words back to her like he doesn’t know what they mean. His eyes burrow into me as I try to remain focused on not spilling his scalding coffee. I finish, turning to grab a lid, and my eyes finally meet his just as he replies to her question. “Afraid not.”
The lid snaps into place and Matilda grabs it from me with a coffee sleeve already in her hand. She slides it onto the cup and plasters a huge grin on her face.
“Coffee, black,” she says, handing it to him. “Well, date or not, TGIF.”
“TGIF,” he says, lifting the coffee toward us before turning to head toward the door.
“Hi, welcome in. What can I get you today?” I step up to the register after he’s left, an instant wave of relief washing over me.
“So, no wife,” Matilda whispers as she steps around me to start making a latte for the woman at my register.
“That’ll be six fifteen.” The woman taps her card and steps away from the counter.
“And no girlfriend.”
“He didn’t say he didn’t have a girlfriend,” I correct.
“He said he didn’t have plans. ‘Afraid not,’” she repeats his answer back to me. “That means he wishes he did, so obviously single.”
“What about a boyfriend?”
“What is with you? This man is out of this world sexy and he’s clearly attracted to you.” She props her hand on her hip, her question certainly not a rhetorical one.
“I’m just saying it’s not out of the question.”
“It’s not, but trust me, he’s into you.”
“Into me? Matilda, he comes here and orders coffee from us once a week. I think you might be reading into things in this situation.”
She gives me that look. “You know damn well that he doesn’t just come here for coffee. Please. The way he looks at you.” She fans herself and I roll my eyes. “What? You seriously wouldn’t go out with him?”
“No, I’m not saying that.” I try to hide my exasperation but it’s too late, the weight of what Freddy told me last night weighing on me. This silly conversation with Matilda just feels so unimportant to me in this moment I feel like I’m going to cry. I’m so overwhelmed at the thought of how I’m going to make working there four nights a week work when I don’t get home till after one in the morning and have to open the coffee shop at six.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing, it’s just?—”
“Grande toffee latte,” Matilda calls out, placing the cup on the counter and turning back to face me.
“I think I’m done singing at Freddy’s.” My shoulders drop, my chin quivering.
“What? Why?” She glances over her shoulder to double-check there are no customers in line before grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the back. “What happened?” Her arms cross over her chest, her chin jutting out like she’s ready to fight someone for me.
“He’s firing Clyde and the entire band.” I shake my head, choking back tears, but it’s no use. A giant one rolls right down my cheek to the floor. To most people, this would just be a simple inconvenience or maybe a small bump in the road, but Matilda knows what this singing job means to me, what Clyde and Terrance and Julio mean to me. “They’re my fa—family.”
“Oh, sweetie.” She pulls me into an embrace, her long arms wrapping around my short frame so tightly. “I’m so sorry. Why now?”
“Because Freddy is a piece of shit. His grandma died and left him some money so he wants younger talent which I get, but this is a jazz bar and these guys are legends. This is their life.”
