Chapter Ten
“Go with the flow. That’s my motto. Well, that and Hakuna Matata.
Except that one’s already trademarked. But yeah!
” Leon Ward enthuses cheerfully, giving me a sunny smile.
It’s late afternoon in the coffee shop where his manager’s arranged for us to meet, and he slumps back in his chair comfortably, his easygoing nature apparent.
“I don’t see any reason to get grumpy about things. ”
—What’s POPpin interview with Celeb of the Week
The next morning, I stood behind the counter at an empty Tiny Tiger, trying to get the glitching cash register to turn on, when I heard a bump at the front door that made the glass shake. I glanced up at the entrance, then did a double take.
A boy stood outside, rubbing his forehead and scowling in confusion at the glass.
Had he seriously just run into the door?
My puzzlement increased when I took in his outfit. A dark-brown fedora. Red-tinted sunglasses. A long, tan trench coat with the collar pulled all the way up to his chin. His clothes were also incredibly wrinkled. Had he slept in them?
The boy attempted to enter the café again. He succeeded in opening the door first this time, only once he got inside, he tiredly ran into a rack of shelter volunteer pamphlets.
Actually, maybe he didn’t sleep in his clothes—he looked like he hadn’t slept at all.
The stranger zigzagged his way over to the counter while I watched in indulgent fascination, like I was rooting for a little baby deer learning to walk for the first time.
“You okay?” I asked.
The boy slumped over the counter and melted against it, half asleep.
“Coffee,” he said, then paused, frowning deeply, as if he was searching for a word but having a hard time getting it to come to mind. He must’ve found it, because after a moment, he cleared his throat, and added, “Please.”
“Right.” I tapped on the chalkboard behind me. “What kind?”
“Uhhh . . .” I had a feeling he was squinting behind his sunglasses. “An iced caffé mocha. Triple shot. Venti size.” He paused, considering this. “With extra whipped cream. And caramel drizzle on top.”
My eyebrows went up. That was a lot of caffeine. “For here or to go?”
“For here,” he said, glancing around the café, mild surprise registering on his face as he took in his surroundings.
Had he actually known he walked into a place called The Tiny Tiger, or had he just followed the scent of coffee and wandered inside?
“I’ll pay after. Can I have a tab? Think I might want another one. ”
Another caffeine monstrosity? Forget lightning; one whiff of this could bring Frankenstein’s monster to life.
Before I could question if I heard his order correctly, the boy put his head down on the counter and muttered, “Stupid early flights.” He looked up at me. “Did you know that if you want to make your flight, you’re supposed to show up to the airport two hours ahead of time?”
“I did.”
“It’s madness. Insane. Especially when your .
. .” He trailed off for a minute like he was falling asleep.
“Coworker is a great big idiot. Haven’t heard from the guy in weeks, and he suddenly sends a text that says, ‘Get down here,’ along with a ticket for a flight that takes off obscenely early the very next morning. Who even does that?”
Wait. I looked down at the boy who slouched against the counter mumbling a long string of sentences that included the word stupid at least four times. “Leon?”
“Oh no.” The boy stared at me before removing his sunglasses. Blearily, he rubbed the unmistakable big doe eyes I’d seen plastered on magazines and, most recently, a pretzel bag. “Can we not do the screaming thing? Let’s not do the screaming thing, please. Not before I’ve had my coffee.”
“I’m not going to scream.”
“Well, good, because it’s really early—”
“It’s nine o’clock.”
“Exactly,” he huffed, sounding grumpy and not at all like his chipper TV interviews. “And I’ve been on a flight because Jake’s, you know, being Jake, and there was, like, this really cranky baby next to me—”
“Takes one to know one,” I teased lightly, giving him a good-natured smile.
“Wha—” He paused and stared. I got the distinct impression he was scrutinizing every detail about me and cataloging them. Finally, in a tone of certainty, he announced, “Luciana.”
“It’s Lucy now,” I replied.
He nodded, more to himself than to me as he continued to study my face. “Oh, this makes so much sense now.”
I frowned. My nickname? “What does?”
Instead of answering, he merely laughed to himself and took off his hat, revealing uncombed hair that looked like he’d tumbled out of bed and sleepwalked straight onto the plane. “Can I sit anywhere?”
“Yeah, I’ll bring you your drink in a minute,” I replied, watching as he ambled over to one of the café chairs.
I finished making his coffee and turned around to find Leon zeroed in on the hideous pink statue on the counter across from him. He seemed suspicious, like he wasn’t sure whether it was real or not.
Without taking his eyes off it, he asked, “Is that . . . a tiger?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”
“And it’s pink?”
“It’s pink.”
“Oh, good. You see it too then,” he sighed, sounding relieved. “I thought I was imagining things from not sleeping. Or my lucid dream had weird taste in knickknacks.”
“No, it’s very real. So real I almost ended up smashing it over Jake’s head.”
“Okay, you’re definitely going to have to give me more details about that after I wake up. Oh, hey,” Leon commented, scrutinizing his surroundings, “it’s a jungle in here.”
Just noticing that now, was he? Amused, I placed his gigantic mug on the table and his expression morphed into a marginally less grumpy one.
“Mmm, breakfast,” he said, reaching out with grabby hands.
“Breakfast?” I echoed, staring down at him. Up close, Leon looked younger than he did on TV. Didn’t all those articles say he was the baby of the group? He could be my little brother.
“This isn’t seriously your breakfast, is it?” I asked.
“Uh . . .” The boy took a sip of coffee as he contemplated my question. “Yes?”
“You’re having that much coffee on an empty stomach?”
He took another, much longer sip.
“Yes?” he answered, his voice going up an octave at the end, like he wondered if he was walking into a trap.
“Do you think that’s a good decision?”
He blinked back at me. He had large eyes like some kind of cartoon baby deer, but like if that baby deer would gnaw your fingers off for suggesting they shouldn’t guzzle forty ounces of caffeine. And then tiredly face-plant onto the floor.
Sighing, I walked over to our glass case, took out a muffin, and came back.
The first week after Mom’s accident, I mostly stayed at home with her, but I missed the café so much and wanted to make sure the cats weren’t lonely.
So one day, even though the café was closed, I woke up extra early so I could visit before Mom woke up and needed me.
I ended up chugging a big mug of coffee and then running off without having breakfast, which hadn’t been the best idea.
I had no memory of being affected or feeling weird, but according to Mom, when I came home, I talked a mile a minute and shook like an excited Chihuahua.
I set the muffin down in front of Leon and tapped the rim of the plate twice, like I did when I fed our café cats to get their attention. “You should eat this. You can’t have all that caffeine and no food.”
He stared at me in confusion.
“Eat,” I repeated. “Having food in your stomach slows down caffeine’s effect in your blood.” That’d been one of my science papers. “If you only drink a large coffee, you’re going to start vibrating through the floor, Inspector Gadget.”
Leon looked down at his trench coat, then back up at me, like he was deciding whether he should be insulted or not.
“You’re an angel,” he informed me, coming to that decision as he picked up the muffin. “A very rude, sarcastic angel who comes bearing the gifts of threats and breakfast.”
“You could just say thank you.”
“Thank you,” he repeated dutifully.
Leon took exactly five very long sips of coffee before he noticed me watching him. “What?”
“Nothing, sorry.” This must be why Jake only wanted to catch Leon between certain hours of the day. “It’s just that—”
“I’m the chill member? The laid-back, easygoing one?” He took another very long sip of coffee, draining it down to half a cup. How on earth did he do that? Wasn’t his mouth on fire? “The live-and-let-live guy throwing up peace signs and chakra hand gestures?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That.”
“I will have you know I can be very chill,” he said, all prim-like.
“It just takes prep work and concentration, that’s all.
So much effort goes into being easygoing,” he continued, gravely serious.
“Do you know how hard it is to practice mindfulness when there’s a toddler constantly kicking the back of your seat? ”
“I’m going to go with super hard.”
“Yeah, super hard. Like their kicks.”
“Well, thank you for coming, anyway,” I told him sincerely.
“After I actually called Jake, he told me about how your café needed help. He doesn’t really ask any of us for favors, you know? It got me curious.” Leon frowned. “I can’t think of any other reason why I’d agree to leave for a flight at five in the morning.”
“Because you love your friend?”
“Yeah, probably.” He took another long sip of coffee.
His eyes were starting to look more alert.
Less serial killer Bambi and more adorable, makes-friends-with-bunnies Bambi.
“You’re not supposed to pick a favorite bandmate, but Jake’s mine.
Can’t communicate like a normal human being, but he’ll sneak out past security to buy me coffee even when our manager bans us from going out while we’re on tour, so I’m taking it as a sign he’d die for me.
I wouldn’t want to be in the band without him .
. . even if it meant being dragged out of bed less. ”