Chapter 7 Freddie
Freddie
I’m sure Shaun’s demonstration of how the till works is fantastic.
Unfortunately, I’m finding it hard to concentrate on anything he’s saying.
Every time he opens and shuts the cash drawer, his pecs twitch under his shirt and it’s physically impossible to pay attention to anything else.
Normally I’m not that fussy with men, anatomically speaking, as long as they’re easy on the eyes, but a thick set of twitchy pecs sets me off like a hungry tiger on a buffalo.
I can’t help it. It’s just biology. All I want to do is press my face against them and motorboat until I can’t breathe.
I try not to make it too obvious I’m looking, but he’s so deep in instructor-mode, I’m pretty sure I’m getting away with it.
He clunks the cash drawer shut for a final time (twitch, twitch), and my eyes flick up to meet his.
“Any questions?” he asks.
“Nope,” I lie.
It’s fine; I’m sure my subconscious picked up most of the important bits. How hard can it be? Just push enough buttons and one of them’s bound to be the right one.
“Cool,” Shaun gives me a dorky thumbs-up. “It’s five to seven so I’m going to open. Just focus on greeting the customers, taking their order and ringing it through the till.”
“That’s all you want me to do?”
“For now,” Shaun says as he walks to the front door.
“I’ll show you how to make each order as we go until you know all the coffees.
When it’s busy, I’ll make the drinks and you can run them to the tables.
There are only seven, so it’s easy to remember who ordered what.
Takeaway is easy, they just collect from the counter. Make sense?”
“Crystal clear,” I say, “I know you’ll keep me right.”
“It’ll be fine,” Shaun says like he’s reassuring himself more than me. “Just keep your shirt on and we’ll be okay.”
I crunch up the remnants of my mint and smile. “I promise.”
For now.
No one comes in for five minutes. Shaun gives me a tour of the cupboards in the meantime, showing me where everything is kept—the syrups, stirrers, napkins et cetera.
There’s way more than I was expecting so I try to pay attention and not get turned on by his giant, beach-ball butt as he bends over to open up the lower cabinets.
I’m largely unsuccessful. It’s a good thing I’m wearing an apron.
The front door jingles and a tall, suited woman wearing a pair of burgundy earmuffs walks in.
“Do you want to try serving her?” Shaun asks.
“Sure,” I say, stepping up to the till. The woman approaches the counter, studying the menu etched in chalk on the wall behind me. I put on my most charming smile and greet her, “Good morning! Welcome to Cream I’m so stunned by her rudeness that I fall silent.
I look to Shaun for help. His eyebrows are raised but he’s hanging back by the coffee machine, not meeting my eye.
Guess he’s leaving me to deal with Grumpy over here by myself.
Maybe he’s chucking me in the deep end to see if I’ll sink or swim?
Testing me? Maybe Grumpy’s a paid actor he brings in for all his new staff?
That’s the only way I can fathom someone would act like such a knobhead to a complete stranger.
I turn back around and come face to face with her.
“I’d like an oat milk latte with one shot of skinny hazelnut syrup,” says Grumpy.
“An oat milk latte…” I search the till for the right button.
There’s so many, each labelled something different.
Some are just a string of random letters and others are words I’ve never even heard of.
There’s one that says “lungo” which sounds like some kind of horrible disease and another reads “piccolo” who I only know as the big green guy from Dragon Ball Z.
My app-rotted brain struggles to read anything that’s not on a phone screen.
Shit, this is what I get for being a pervert and not paying attention.
Grumpy lets out a long sigh, holding out her debit card impatiently. Behind me, I hear lots of grinding and clattering as Shaun gets to work making her coffee.
“Aha!” Finally, I spot the latte button.
I press it and the till rings it up, but I remember Shaun saying something about supplemental charges.
By a stroke of luck my roaming index finger finds the oat milk button.
I stab it down and it adds thirty pence to her total.
Boom! Now to add the syrup… it was… shit, I’ve forgotten.
I don’t want to ask Grumpy to repeat it, mostly because I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of behaving like the imbecile she clearly thinks I am.
A hiss of steam from behind me.
Come on Freddie, concentrate. The till buttons are grouped by colour. I’ve identified the drinks and the different milks, but where in the ever-loving fuck are the syrups? That’s a question I never thought I’d be asking myself, least of all at seven in the bloody morning.
My eyes land on a cluster of yellow buttons in the bottom right corner. One of them is marked ‘Hznt SF’. Hazelnut, sugar free! Bingo! Gay audacity prevails again.
Grumpy clicks her tongue but I ignore her. I’m on a roll, so as far as I’m concerned, she can go and die in the sea.
A tap of the syrup button brings her total to…
“Four pounds fifty,” I announce, proudly.
Grumpy narrows her eyes. “Got there in the end, did we?”
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.
“We did.” I shoot her an acerbic smile. “Sorry, it’s my first day and honestly, it’s like air traffic control back here.”
She rolls her eyes. I’m beginning to think Grumpy and I aren’t going to be friends after this.
I take her payment, winging it with the card machine and resisting the urge to add a few extra zeros to her total.
“Would you like a receipt?” I ask, prompted by the machine.
Grumpy looks like I’ve just shat in her Alpen.
“Absolutely not. Think of the environment—”
“We can email you one, if you like?” Shaun appears by my side, holding a steaming takeaway cup. “Oat milk latte with sugar free hazelnut?”
Grumpy glares daggers at him.
“Yes, but I want it in a mug. I’m sitting in, like I told gormless here.”
Gormless? She said no such thing! I’m about to object but Shaun cuts across me: “Actually, you didn’t, but you’ll have it to take away. We don’t tolerate rudeness, and I don’t like the way you spoke to my colleague here.”
Grumpy puts her hands on her hips like a stroppy child. “Get me your manager.”
“I’m the owner,” Shaun places her coffee on the counter. “Have a nice day.”
A palpable silence fills the air. I feel like I’m watching a showdown in the Wild West. Grumpy’s outgunned. She has two choices: stand down or continue to fight a losing battle.
“Shocking service!” She snatches her coffee and backs towards the door, fizzing with anger. “How do you expect to run a business like this? People listen to me in this town, you know! Just wait until I tell all my friends about this.”
“Go for it,” says Shaun, calmly. “You can tell all two of them they aren’t welcome here either.”
Holy shit. Forget pistols at dawn, Shaun just dropped a nuke on the enemy command centre.
I can’t believe he’s speaking to a customer like this just because she was a bit of a dick!
Grumpy’s in shock, her mouth opening and closing over and over again like a lobotomized trout.
The longer it goes on, the more embarrassing it is that she can’t think of a decent comeback.
After a few more delicious seconds, she turns heel and storms out the door, taking care to slam it behind her.
As she does, a dollop of wet snow slides off the roof and onto her head.
For a moment I think she’s going to come back and complain about that too, but instead she scampers off down the road in defeat.
Ooft.
Gormless: one. Grumpy: zero.
Shaun claps his hands together, as though dusting flour off them. “Okay, so she was an extremely unlucky first customer to get. Some people don’t want to chat in the mornings, but that’s no excuse for being rude and you handled it really well. Sorry. I promise they’re not all like that.”
I blink at him, bewildered. “You told her not to come back?”
“Yes,” he says, matter-of-factly. “No one who behaves like that is welcome in my café. I want this to be a nice place. Hashtag no bad vibes, as the kids say.”
Immediately after saying it, Shaun’s cheeks turn pink. Adorable.
One thing is bugging me though. “If you didn’t want her in here, why did you make her coffee?”
Shaun gives a sheepish grin. “Because when she drinks it, she’ll know what she’ll be missing out on.”
My mouth falls open. “Seriously?”
“Well, no. Honestly, you were already putting through her payment so I didn’t have much choice.
I’m impressed, by the way. I didn’t even show you how to do all of that.
But a small part of me hopes she’ll come crawling back with her tail between her legs because she can’t stand to not have my coffee in her life.
Hasn’t happened yet, but you never know. ”
I can’t help but laugh. “It was pretty epic. She looked like she was going to shit herself.”
Shaun raises an eyebrow and I remember where I am.
“Ahem. Sorry, boss. Poop herself.”
Shaun raises the other eyebrow.
“Sorry, Shaun,” I correct myself.
“That’s better,” Shaun grins, a warm smile that reaches his eyes, “and you can say ‘shit’, just not when customers are around.”
I give him a thumbs-up. “Got it.”
Damn. Shaun isn’t just eye candy, he’s actually kind of awesome, and I won’t lie, watching him deal with Grumpy? So hot, the way he got all stern like that.
I can't help but wonder what Shaun’s like in bed. With a butt like that, I hope he’s a bottom. He gives off gentleman vibes, but I bet there’s some filth in there, buried deep down beneath that gorgeous exterior.
“Come on,” Shaun says, beckoning me over. “I’ll show you how to clean my milk wand.” His cheeks turn from pink to red.
Knew it.