“Hi Miriam! Your usual?” I ask, excited to see her, ready to prepare her drink. It’s a specialty drink that Beck introduced for Hazel – the ‘Crazy Caramel Cluster’ latte.
“Oh, darling, am I really that predictable? Imustchange things up if you can guess what I want,” she says flamboyantly. Everything is a show with Miriam, complete with fluttering hands and dramatic reactions. “What do you recommend that’s new and special?” She leans over the counter to peek at our new syrups and toppings.
“Well, we have a maple latte that’ll knock your sweet tooth straight out,” I offer, leaning towards her conspiratorially.
“My dear, you already accomplish that all on your own. What about something bitter? Like me,” she says with a wink.
“What about floral? We have a rose-infused syrup that’s not too sweet and it comes with edible sparkles on top,” I dangle in front of her, fully aware how much she loves sparkles.
“Oooh you know me so well.” I ring her through, and instead of putting money in the tip jar, she takes my hand and folds a twenty into it. “Just for you, eh? No sharing,” she says, aware of the fact that we share tips on the café side. She walks to the end of the counter to wait for her drink while I go to take the next person, not even having noticed someone come in while Miriam had my complete attention. I may as well take their order and make the drinks at once.
“Hello! What can I get for… you?” I’m startled to be looking into forest green eyes. Eyes that are enjoying how flustered I am. “Hi James.”
“James? What happened to stud?” he teases, his voice low and smooth. More like what happened to the grumpy giant I was starting to get used to?
“I left him in an alley. He is no more.” I’m sharp, but both of us need to quit this flirtation before people get hurt. “Coffee?”
“Large pumpkin spice. And a muffin,” he says, pointing to the display case of pumpkin cream cheese muffins. I quickly wrap one up for him, not even offering a plate for inside, hoping he’ll get the hint.
I do love his confidence at ordering a PSL though. Definitely not helping the don’t-think-he’s-cute-this-will-end-badly thing I’ve got going on. He goes to wait for his drink next to Miriam and offers her one of the more pleasant greetings I’ve seen him give. I can’t hear over the milk steaming, but by the time I’m bringing them to the counter, Miriam’s eyes are lit up and she has his bicep in a firm grasp, flirting up a storm.
“Oh, thank you, Stella. I was commending this young man on his choices. The muffins you make might be the only good thing on the menu! Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“Thanks, Miriam, can I grab you one as well?”
“Well, I don’t want to take the last one…” she says, eyeing it hungrily.
“Don’t worry, I can make more,” I chuckle, walking over to grab one.
When I pass it to her, she pulls me in close. “Honey, if you don’t go for him, I will.” She’s not even whispering. Heat burns my cheeks as she saunters out of the café. James is left staring at me, cheeks bulging with food.
“Sorry about her, she’s a little eccentric, but truly very sweet.”
“You make these?” he asks, incredulous, talking around the half a muffin already stuffed in his mouth.
“Yeah, I like to try new things between rushes. Everyone loves a muffin with their coffee, right?” He stares for one more moment before leaving without another word.
Rude. That’s a point deduction right there. Not that I’m keeping score. Because it doesn’t matter.
I wonder what that was all about.
Why is he showing up at my workplace at all? Nessa isn’t here, he didn’t stay, and I know they don’t play tonight because I am keeping a much closer eye on the live music schedule. And then to come in and flirt with me? What kind of game is that?
I can’t get my mind off of it all day. I only half-register agreement when Beck asks if I want to cover the bar shift for Mel, and by the time I get home, I’m wrecked. My feet are aching, my back is killing me, and the tension in my face from giving my best customer service smile for fourteen hours straight is giving me a migraine. I strip down to my underwear and flop into bed. I curl up under my blankets, trying to stave off the cold and get the stress to dissipate.
My brain turns its attention to the mountain of debt I’m under, the extortionate interest rates, and how much farther I still have to go before I’m free of it. These extra hours may have put a dent in it, but it’s a pebble on the beach for all it’s worth. Riding my bike, eating at work, using as little electricity as possible, it’s all been helping. It’s still not enough.
Nothing is ever enough.
Cheer up, Stella! Half the battle is your attitude!I can hear dad’s voice in my head. I must have inherited my optimism from him. I can’t seem to find it at the moment.
I roll over to face my window, groaning as my muscles strain. I love looking out at the streetlights, glittering against the sky. I console myself and my abused body with the fact that with the snow dump we’re expecting tomorrow, at least the café will be quiet. Minimal effort. Nothing to go wrong.
“Sorry, run that all by me one more time?”
I sigh into the phone. “The espresso machine broke down, the oven is on the fritz, so no morning pastries, and I have a massive lineup of angry customers because every other café in a ten kilometre radius is closed,” I relay to Beck, looking over my shoulder at the sea of dirty, caffeine addicted looks pointed my way. I can practically hear Beck’s migraine building over the phone.
“But the brewed coffee is fine, and the milk steamer still works, right? Hazel and I can come down and help soon… Can you hold on for an hour?”
