Chapter 1 #2
He watches me make it with those bright blue eyes on full alert as usual. He’s actually very handsome. Well, he would be if he ever smiled.
“How come you’re here so late?” I ask as he scrutinizes my every move. “Don’t you have work?”
“Please allocate all of your focus to the execution of my coffee.”
I want to get my mind off that damn video, so I press him more than usual.
“Casual chit chat helps me focus.”
His brow furrows. “In that case, I have… an interview.”
“A job interview?” I ask, perking up. “Ooh, are you going to work here? Shotgun interviewing you!”
“He’s all yours,” Honey says as she restocks the empty cups.
“No, I’m trained as a chemist, not as a barista,” he says, his eyes focused on my hands, making sure I’m doing everything to his exact specifications.
I’ve done it so often, I can make his coffee with my eyes closed, although that would probably give him a panic attack.
“This is an interview for a periodical.”
“Interesting,” I say.
“I don’t normally do interviews,” he goes on, “but since this will be about chemistry, I agreed.”
“Sounds fun,” I say, putting his coffee into a take-out cup. I once gave him a ceramic mug early on in our relationship and he accused me of trying to murder him, saying he refused to put his lips on something so unsanitary as a communal mug.
“Well good luck,” I say as I take my Sharpie and draw a little four-leaf clover on his coffee cup sleeve before handing it over. “I hope it goes well.”
He frowns when he sees the doodle and removes the sleeve. I just shake my head as he slides it into his pocket. He seems to be allergic to cute and fun, and I know he’ll toss it right into the garbage on the way to his table.
“Thank you, Faye,” he says, handing me a twenty. “Keep the change.”
He always tips really well, which makes him even more of an anomaly seeing as how difficult he is. I guess he’s just the type of guy who knows what he wants and appreciates anyone who can give it to him.
“I’ll wait for the interviewer in the seating area,” he says. “It will be a female.”
His face drops when he turns and looks at the tables, probably realizing he has to sit among the filthy commoners.
“I’ll keep an eye out for her and send her your way,” I say with a smile.
He nods and takes his coffee to a table by the window.
“I don’t know how you deal with him,” Honey says as she stomps on the empty box, flattening it for the recycling.
“He’s harmless,” I say with a shrug. Owen is just one of those brilliant misunderstood guys.
Someone who’s a genius at one thing and not very good at anything else.
It can’t be easy being so socially awkward.
At least he knows he can start his morning right, getting a coffee the way he likes it from me, before he has to go out into the world and deal with all of the other people who won’t be so understanding.
I may not be doing much in the world, but at least I can offer people that.
I’ve been working here since I started my first year of college. I graduated in business, but somehow never left this place. I took on more hours after graduation, eventually stopped applying for jobs, and weeks became months became years, and well, I’m still here.
I serve a few more customers—Clarissa, who works on her cozy mystery book in the back every day, usually with a lot of grunting and swearing in frustration, and Ethan, the cute guy who stops for a cold brew before his rock climbing class every Thursday.
He’s usually reading something by Jon Krakauer.
Then, the journalist walks in. Struts in is more like it.
She’s the kind of stylish that makes you stand a little straighter without meaning to with her light beige trench coat over a silk blouse the color of champagne, tucked into high-waisted tailored trousers.
Pointed heels click aggressively on the floor as she walks with the speed and force of someone on a tight deadline.
Her oversized sunglasses stay on just a second longer than necessary, like she’s giving the room time to appreciate her entrance.
“Coffee,” she says with a curt smile. “Black.”
“Journalist?” I ask as I grab the pot.
She snaps her head back like she’s seeing me for the first time. “How did you know?”
“Just a hunch,” I lie. “Let me guess… Chemistry Monthly?”
“Ew, no,” she says as she reaches into her vintage leather bag. “Madame Gossip.”
She pulls out a shiny magazine, the kind you see at pharmacies and grocery stores, the kind you know you shouldn’t spend money on, but can never help it. The issue she’s holding has a close-up of some handsome actor and a headline on the side reading Ten Best Ways To Meet A Man On Vacation.
“Are you here for an interview?” I ask, sensing disaster.
She tilts her head as she looks at me in shock. “Are you a psychic? This is freaking me out.”
“So, you’re not from a chemistry magazine?”
“There’s only one kind of chemistry we write about,” she says, reapplying her very bright red lipstick. “Male and female.”
“Who are you interviewing today?” I ask as I put a cap on her coffee cup. My stomach is rolling with nerves for Owen. This will not go well.
“Some hot, mysterious business owner,” she says. “Owen Lavoie. I’m going to turn him into the hottest bachelor in Toronto.”
I glance at Owen. He’s sitting at a table by the window, talking to someone on his phone. His napkin is open and spread on the table like a mini tablecloth.
“Does Owen know what the article is about?” I ask.
She shrugs. “He has nothing to worry about. I’ll make him look irresistible.”
Is that even possible?
“If you say so,” I say as I hand over the coffee. “Your bachelor is over there.”
She grins like a ravenous wolf staring down a helpless baby deer as she takes her coffee, hands me a five, and struts over.
That poor guy has no idea he’s about to be slaughtered.