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"Oh, I gave him his stupid shot, but didn't inform him like I normally would that there is more caffeine in a medium coffee than there is in a shot of espresso and that if he wanted the biggest bang for his buck, getting a medium with a shot or two is what was going to get you going and keep you going all day. You know two-hundred-eighty grams of caffeine versus just the eighty in an espresso. But whatever, dude, peter out at noon and need another shot. Not my problem you suck at life. So what do you want?"
I laughed at that, charmed by her somewhat prickly greeting, and how she managed to talk to me like I was a regular she bitched with every day and not a complete stranger.
"I need two medium hot salted caramels. With a shot each," I added, giving her a smirk.
Yeah, two.
Because I was out of my fucking mind, that's why.
It was the only possible explanation.
"Salted caramel, huh?" another woman asked, coming out from a door that led into the back.
She was every bit the complete opposite of her business partner, aside from them both being tall. Where Gala was thin, this woman had more curves than any one woman had a right to. Gala's skin was pale; this woman was maybe Puerto Rican or Dominican with her medium skin-tone. She had full lips, sleepily sexy dark eyes, and dyed gray hair with light purple ends.
Jazzy, she was called.
"I didn't have you pegged for a flavor guy. Usually, those are the suits."
"Or the indie kids," Gala chimed in.
"Usually it's just black. But a... friend suggested the salted caramel, so I am giving it a try."
"Oh, a friend, huh?" Gala asked as Jazzy went to pour the coffees. "I'm going to take a wild guess that this friend is a girl. I mean, look at you."
It had been so fucking long since I had seen a woman at all - save for the one or two working as corrections officers at the prison - that I almost didn't even grasp at first what she was doing. She was flirting with me.
You'd think after six years inside, that fucking would have been the first thing on my mind, but somehow, it fell back in importance behind a slew of other pressing matters.
"At least tell me she's not just a pretty face," Gala implored.
She was that, a pretty face.
Gorgeous.
Fucking beautiful.
But she was much, much more than that.
"She's not just a pretty face."
"Then I will contain my heartbreak," Gala offered as she handed me my coffee.
"That's six," Jazzy said as I reached for my wallet.
I handed her a ten, nodding toward the two separate tip jars. "Put me in for Freeman," I said, choosing him over Christopher Walken to narrate my life.
"What, no cow bells?" Gala asked as she threw the extra money in the jar. "Enjoy your coffee," she offered, going over to the music, lowering it a few decibels, and changing it to something more classic rock.
I guess I helped wash away the memory of the under-caffeinated suit.
And the reality of what I was doing didn't actually hit me until I turned away from the counter.
What the fuck was I thinking, ordering an extra coffee?
I had no right to seek her out on the outside.
Hell, I had been the one to stop communication in the first place, to think it was best to create a disconnect.
Why then, was I turning out of the coffeeshop and moving down the street that would lead to a side street that would lead to Navesink Bank's only sex store?
I mean, chances were, she had just taken the picture of Coop there by happenstance. It was pointless to go there.
But I refused to be the kind of freak who would show up at her house. That was a whole other level of creepy.
As I made my turn down the street toward the storefront, I figured there was no harm, right?
If I went there and it was just a sex store, fine.
That was a sign.
It was done.
But if I went there and saw her there by chance...
That was its own sign as well, wasn't it?
A sign of what, I wasn't sure.
But I guess I was going to find out.FOURAutumnIf I had to deal with one more comment from a male customer about how he doesn't need one of those penis enlargement devices - nudge nudge, wink wink - I was going to scream.
It was just one of those days.
The ones from hell.
When the POS system was down for a few hours, then my shipment ran late, and then I had to sit with a maid-of-honor for two and a half hours to help her decide on what toys and supplies she wanted at the bachelorette party. When I offered to make it a Phallus-opy event - meaning I could be hired to come in and give sex tips, hand out the best erotica, explain the different types of sex toys and how they were used, you know, since she didn't know diddly squat about any of it - she refused, insisting it had to be her giving all the information out. Which meant that I had to, essentially, give her a free class that I would normally charge for if I wanted her to buy supplies from me and not, as she so charmingly put it, buy online where it was cheaper.
