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“I asked for a supra, non-fat, sugar-free, no-whip, eggnog latte.”
Brandy Henderson narrowly refrained from answering Ms. Prada-purse-and-yoga-pants in the same bitchy tone. It was three weeks until Christmas, and Brandy was whipping and foaming drinks at Sweet Tea and Joe’s as fast as she could while dealing with the customers in line waiting to order. She had to dig deep to find the spirit of the season at six a.m.
“That’s what I made you, ma’am.” She was proud of her even tone and friendly smile as she pitched her voice over the hissing steam spitting out of the espresso machine, her hands busy assembling the next order on auto-pilot.
“There’s no way this is sugar-free. Make it again.”
“I assure you, ma’am, I used the sugar-free eggnog syrup right here.” Brandy gestured to the bay of syrup pumps next to her station. “Piccolo peppermint latte, for Ted?” She spun the finished drink on to the counter pick-up window.
“And I’m telling you, you screwed it up. Make me another goddamn coffee!” The woman’s voice pitched higher and more shrill than the screaming steamer as Brandy foamed more skim milk.
The customer is always right.Brandy silently chanted the mantra as she sent an apologetic glance to the restless customers in line. Many of them were regulars who wouldn’t mind, but she hated to keep them waiting.
“Yes, ma’am.” She reached across the counter for the offending coffee and bobbled it. Since the woman hadn’t put the cap back on completely, scalded milk splashed over the back of Brandy’s hand and onto the counter.Sonofabitch! That hurt.
“You idiot! You splashed that on my purse.” The woman began furiously blotting the leather bag with a handful of napkins.
Brandy bit her tongue against the pain of the burn and the insistent pressure of the sarcastic response desperate to break free. She glanced up at the clock, praying for Clare to hurry up and get there already. She didn’t mind covering for her perpetually late friend, but this morning she needed help and she needed it now. Throwing the perfectly good coffee in the wash sink, Brandy assessed the damage. She ran her hand briefly under the cold water, praying it wouldn’t blister. The normally tawny skin on her hand was turning an angry red. Damn. She didn’t have time for a serious burn.
“Hello? I don’t have all day!”
Not trusting herself to speak, Brandy silently and efficiently made another supra, non-fat, sugar-free, no-whip, eggnog latte, exactly as she had the last one. She may have wanted to put this loud, inconsiderate, rude woman in her place, but Brandy couldn’t afford to lose this job and the tips it brought in. Not this close to Christmas. Her family was depending on her this year, and she wasn’t going to let them down.
“Here you go, ma’am. Have a nice day.”
“Next time, get it right the first time.”
The worst part of working the early morning shift at the coffee shop was trying to get people their caffeine before they’d had any caffeine. Not ideal. She turned to the next person in line. Miranda, brevis Americano, extra shot, room for cream. She was already filling the order before she ducked back to the register to ring it up. Back in her rhythm, she took orders, counted change, and crafted the overpriced coffee and tea creations that seemed to power Silicon Valley. It wasn’t a great job, but it was a means to an end. God, she couldn’t wait for the end.
Tinkling bells pulled her from her trance. She looked up to see Clare with her straight inky black hair peeking out from beneath a ridiculous jingling red elf hat hustling behind the counter. The college girl looked like a member of a K-Pop girl band who’d gotten a make-over from Santa.
“Where have you been?” Brandy whispered with another glance up at the clock. She sprayed whipped cream to cover her words. “You’re forty minutes late.” Her hands never stopped flying.
“Bad traffic on 101.”
A likely story. Even more likely, her new boyfriend had woken up horny. Brandy would never begrudge her friend a morning quickie, but she could sure as hell be jealous. It had been months since she’d had time for a date, let alone a third and all that entailed.
“Cover the front for a minute. I need to put some burn cream on my hand.” She ducked into the back and rummaged in her pack for her first aid kit. Old habits died hard. As a former army medic, she never left home without her pack. She ran her hand under cold water as she popped an ibuprofen. She briskly cleaned and dried the wound site, applied a lidocaine cream, and loosely wrapped gauze around it. With any luck, she’d avoid a blister.
“There you are. Why is Clare working the front all by herself during the morning rush? Get your butt in gear, Brandy.”
Perfect. Anna. Late and making assumptions without asking questions, as usual. Once again, Brandy bit back the words she longed to set free. Arguing with her boss would get her nowhere fast. She stowed her kit, tucked her rambunctious curls back under her cap, and dove back into the morning fray. If anything, the army had taught her that she could do hard things if she just put her head down and tackled the job head on. She could do anything if it brought her closer to her goal.
When she’d left the army two years ago, she’d immediately applied to nursing school only to find out there was a long waitlist. But nothing was going to keep her from her dream. She’d taken all the pre-reqs she could. Now, it was a waiting game to see when they would let her in. In the meantime, she’d keep earning her checks, helping her mom keep a roof over her half-siblings’ heads, taking care of her step-father, and doing anything else that needed doing.
The incessant jingling of silver bells pulled her from her thoughts as Clare bobbed her head along to the piped in Christmas music while she worked the register.
“For God’s sake, Clare. What possessed you to get the one with bells?”
“‘Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.’ It gives me hope.”
“It’s giving me a migraine.” Brandy grinned at her friend as she began making the medio Mexican mocha just ordered. “There are going to be a lot of new angels before Christmas if you keep that up.”
“Christmas spirit brings in the tips, Brandy.” Anna commented from behind the other register. She shook the tip jar meaningfully. “You’d do well to remember that. Just look how much Clare brought in this morning while you were dawdling in the back.”
