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“Yeah, right.” I shook my head and looked back over at him. He was staring at his phone again.
It was a pity he was such a jackass, because he wasdrop your panties in an instantdelicious.
“Okay, Delilah, can we see what beans we have?”
“What do you mean what beans we have?” She stared at me.
“He wants to know if we have African beans.”
“I mean, we can check the Keurig,” she said, giggling.
“Okay.”
I watched as she grabbed her phone, and we headed toward the back.
“So I have Dunkin’ Donuts coffee,” she said, holding up a small coffee pod. “I don’t know what sort of beans that is.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“And then I have this one, medium roast.”
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe I’ll give him the medium roast.”
“I think people prefer the Dunkin’ Donuts one,” she said. “I prefer that one.”
“Okay.” I sighed.
“Oh, hold on,” she said, bringing up her phone. “What type of coffee beans are grown in Africa?” she typed in and spoke out loud.
“Ooh,” she said. “Okay. These are the countries that grow beans. Kenya, Uganda, Ethiopia, Rwanda.”
“Rwanda,” I said. “I’m going to tell him that these are Rwanda beans.” I giggled slightly. “And he’s going to be like, ‘Ooh, I love me some African beans,’ and I’m going to know he’s drinking Dunkin’ Donuts coffee.”
Delilah giggled. “You’re so bad, Harriet.”
“What? You’re the one that brought the Keurig in.”
“I know,” she said. “But it’s only because Charlotte messed up and got us this espresso machine that no one knows how to use.”
“Yeah. This is her fault,” I said, shaking my head as I went back to the front of the store and stared at the man.
“Excuse me, sir, but I can offer you Colombian beans from South America or Rwandan beans from Africa.”
He looked back up at me and raised a single eyebrow. “You have Rwandan beans?” He looked and sounded impressed.
“We do for our most discerning of customers. There is a slight addition to the price if you get the Rwandan beans, though.”
“Fine,” he said. “Ring me up.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
I grabbed his credit card and charged twenty dollars, which was absolutely ridiculous for a cup of coffee, but he deserved it. I waited to see if he would sign the receipt and add an additional tip. I licked my lips as I saw him scribbling some numbers.
Did I see a five? Oh my gosh. Was this guy going to be super generous and tip me fifty bucks or… Even five dollars would do. Maybe I’d gotten him wrong after all.
“Thank you, sir,” I said, beaming at him as I reached for the receipt. My jaw dropped when I saw five cents. Five cents. Oh, this guy was trying to get me riled up. He looked at me. There was a glint in his eyes, daring me to say something to him.
“Thank you for your generous tip, sir,” I said. “It’s well appreciated. Almost probably I’ll be able to pay a semester of college with this.”
