Chapter 14 #2
The friendly, curly-haired woman on the other side of the counter at Doctor Insomnia’s Coffee and Tea Emporium just laughs. “It’s all good, as long as I can take a picture with you?”
As if on cue, Remy slides by right next to me, smiling at the customer. “Take as many as you want.”
The woman turns around in front of the counter and snaps a selfie of us—with me behind the counter, wearing a leather barista apron and serving lattes. Wait till my dad hears I socialized just for a woman.
Florence lowers her phone. “Thanks again for doing this,” she says to me, her tone heartfelt. “Neighborhood Works is such a great organization.”
“They are, aren’t they?” Remy says, and I second her with a nod. Remy told me a bit about the non-profit’s jobs program, and it’s pretty cool that the team helps out.
But helping out also means serving another drink.
This one’s a chai latte, so I hand it to a man on the other side of the counter who thanks me.
Miller’s serving some old dude a coffee and listening to his life story.
Riggs is offering a hot take on whether koalas are cooler than foxes to a customer.
And Corbin is riffing with a guy on what it’ll take for us to beat the Chicago Barn Owls tonight.
When the guy with the chai leaves, I turn to Remy, who’s managing the whole event with a certain kind of…
pep. It’s cute, really, the way she likes telling us where to go, what to do, when to be where, her tablet like a clipboard the whole time.
She’s in her element. I nod to the guy leaving.
“Is that your favorite drink? Chai latte?”
“It is at the moment,” she says. “I change it up each month.”
“You do?”
“Life’s too short for one drink. Sometimes I’m a matcha girl, sometimes a vanilla latte, sometimes a tea drinker.”
I’m filing this away in the Remy folder. “Noted.”
The conversation is short-lived since another customer appears, and the team photographer lifts her camera to snap more pics of us serving. I don’t smile for the camera, but I’m glad I crashed this event. Which is weird.
Really fucking weird.
When it’s over, we head back to the arena, and once everyone disperses to get ready for warmups, I catch Remy right before she heads into the stairwell. Her palm is pressed to the door.
“So what are the other wedding events?”
“Right. We were going to talk about that,” she says, but she pauses, licks her lips, then says, “thanks again for coming today. We were able to donate even more to the org just by having another server.”
“That’s great. I’m glad.”
“Me too,” she says, then seems to breathe a sigh of relief before shifting gears.
“Okay, wedding events. There’s a cake tasting this weekend.
I set that up for Caroline with Afternoon Delight, and she’s already picked her three favorite flavors.
But she wants to finalize the winner, and of course Fresh Face wants to get it all on camera. Can you come to that?”
“Yep.” I lick my lips to show my excitement—for the cake, not the cameras.
“And I also have my MOH event,” she says, sketching air quotes, “where they want me to pick up my maid of honor dress, but I can do that on my own.”
“Got it.” I try not to let on I’m disappointed.
“Then, there’s the shower I’ve been planning—co-ed of course.
We’re calling it the Something Shared Shower, since Caroline thinks traditional showers are outdated, anti-feminist, and grubby.
Hers is a totally different type of shower,” Remy says, then explains more about the couple’s plans, which include a donation angle.
Appreciate the change-up and the charity, but a wedding shower in any form sounds about as fun as wrestling Thor into a cat burrito when I have to clip his long-ass nails. I maintain my poker face as I say, “I’ll take you.”
“That would be great. And there’s a spa day too, but we haven’t finalized the date yet.”
How can one couple have so many events? Never has there been a better advertisement for elopement than this wedding. “They’re actually having a spa day?”
“She wants to treat the whole wedding party and their dates to a day of relaxing.”
I fight off a cringe. Love a massage and all, but I am not a spa dude in any way, shape, or form. “Is there a rehearsal dinner too?”
Remy shakes her head. “Nope. She felt that was enough stuff.”
Ya think? “Send me the details,” I say, then she lifts a hand to wave, and fuck, I hate that I can’t grab it and give her a quick cheek kiss in the hallway.
But as she walks up the steps, an idea hits me. There is something I can do for her. In fact, it’s something I promised I’d do.
You evil genius, you.
I check the time. Perfect. I can squeeze this in before warmups. Damn, I’m brilliant. I hustle to the concourse, slip into the souvenir shop, and handle it quickly.
On the way back to the locker room, I flash back to our texts from earlier as I run a hand through my hair.
Lake: With all these pics coming up at the cake tasting, it seems like a good time for a haircut. You up for showing off those skills?