Chapter Fifteen
Albert is taking forever perusing the sandwiches in the display window, as he always does. What shall it be today? Egg salad? Roast beef? Tuna salad? Pastrami on rye? He always takes forever deciding, and he always ends up choosing the roast beef. There are three people standing behind him, and all of them are getting impatient. One is tapping his foot, arms crossed. The other is leaning over, appraising the situation with a scowl on her face. And the other is just about to blow.
“C’mon, Albert,” I urge him as I grab the beef. “You always get the roast beef.”
“Well, look at that,” he scoffs. “I thought this was a free world, but I suppose I’ll have the roast beef again.”
“Yes, you will,” I say, grabbing a can of Diet Coke, his usual. “I’m running a café here, Albert. I have other customers.”
He glances behind, and notices for the first that there are three very annoyed people standing behind him. “If you ask me, the whole world today is too much in a hurry.” He turns back. “Take time and smell the flowers, folks.”
Albert is one of my regulars. He’s about eighty or so. I would probably set him up with Judy if he wasn’t such a grouch.
I cash him out, and tend to my next customer. My phone pings, but I have no time to answer it. I assume it’s Cassie. It’s always Cassie.
More customers walk in, and I’m busy for the next half hour. I’m flustered when I’m finally done. I check my phone, and my heart does a little cartwheel when I see it’s a text message from Colton. How did he get my number? Oh… it was on my application of course.
Hello, Clara. When is a good time to call you?
He wants to call me. I hate to admit it, but I’m excited. How should I respond? Well, I’m too old and impatient to play games.
How about now?
I busy myself wiping the counters, my heart pounding like a jackhammer. I inhale a slow breath to calm myself. It’s not like I’ve never spoken to a man on the phone, but admittedly, it has been a while.
When my phone rings, I purposely wait until the third ring, just to not appear too eager.
“Hello.”
“Hey, you.”
“Hey…” I didn’t realize we were already at the ‘Hey, you’ phase of our friendship. I guess we are.
“What’s up?”
“I’m at work,” I tell him. “I work at the café… have I mentioned that?”
“Yes, you did. We had a whole conversation about it in the white room,” he says. “Don’t you remember?”
I love the sound of his voice, soft and gentle, but still a man’s voice. Some might even call it seductive.
“Uh… no.”
“Please tell me you have not forgotten that whole night,” he says. “I know you were high but—”
“No, I remember.” As much as I’d like to forget, I remember a lot, I remember almost every word. I remember his touch. And I definitely remember how he made me feel.
“Thank God,” he says. “Because that night meant a lot. More than you know.”
More than you know.
Here, I thought it was just a night like many others for him. After all, he’s done this countless times. For me it was definitely something special.
“Anyway, I was calling to ask you something.”
“Yes…” I say, filled with anticipation.
“Where are the Cheetos,” Albert barks. “Don’t tell me you don’t have any.”
