Chapter 5 Dave
“No.” I drop my bag in my locker, then turn to focus my full attention on Kris, as he leans against the neighboring locker. “There will be no smirking today.”
I’ve been in a total, justifiable funk since last night’s disaster at my screenwriting bootcamp. I have no patience to deal with Kris’ shenanigans right now. A banging hammer noise echoes through the space and punctuates my statement.
I mean, I guess he’s not doing much, just leaning against the locker and smiling at me. But that smile! It’s lecherous. It’s knowing. He’s saying a lot with that smile, and I don’t want to hear any of it.
“Was I smirking? I didn’t mean to. I was just saying hi. I feel like we’re friends now that I’ve seen you outside of work.” He puts extra emphasis on the words friends. And again, I’d like to punch him.
“We’re not friends and we’re not doing any more of this.” I wave in the small space between us. He’s close enough that I can smell his skin and the worn leather of his jacket. He smells good and I wish a support beam would knock some sense into me.
Kris shifts and folds his hands over his chest in protest. I swear, I think he’s pouting. It makes my heart beat faster. I need him to stop.
“Fine,” he says. “Has anyone ever told you you’re no fun?”
“A million times.” It’s not actually true, but I’m not sharing that with him.
He grunts and pushes away from the lockers. I take about a millisecond to look at him from behind. He’s wearing exceptionally tight pants today, and his body looks…. no. I will not let myself think about that. I turn away so I don’t have to see any more. I open my locker and pull out my apron and cap.
“We open in ten. Do you remember everything we went over before?” I ask.
“Sure boss.” Kris sounds kind of sad and I freeze. Am I being unnecessarily harsh with him?
“Uh, Kris?” I know I’m going to regret this, but I can’t stand the idea of sad Kris.
“Yeah?” he calls back wanly.
“Why don’t you pick out some music for us to listen to while we set up? Just make sure the volume’s below 7 when we open.”
“Sure thing! Just need to get my fancy uniform on.”
“It’s just a polo shirt.”
“Like I said, fancy.”
I hear the sound of clothes rustling behind me. I glance back without thinking, just in time to see him sliding on his shirt. My stomach drops as I have a very clear view of the golden skin of his chest and the happy trail leading down into those too tight jeans. Aaaghhhh , it burns . I turn away quickly and tie my apron with shaky hands.
That’s when I remember his app profile, which was a closeup of that chest, and the reason I swiped without thinking. That chest short-circuited my brain so quickly I failed to see all the other clues to who he was. I just saw it and thought , yes.
I’ve got to keep telling myself no. Keep myself focused on improving my writing, collecting my paychecks, keeping on the straight and–
“Hey boss,” Kris scrambles my thoughts as he squeezes past me and smiles his excited smile.
“I’m not your boss.”
“Whatever. Wait ‘til you hear the CD I brought today.”
“A CD?”
Kris rolls his eyes.
“Yes, a CD. I burned it myself because the system here’s so old, you sweet summer child. It’s from an unsigned band named Tragic Meme, I’m promoting on the side. I think you’ll really like them.”
“You’ve got permission to play it in the store?”
“Yup. Ari said it was cool.”
“Alright. Let’s give them a listen.”
It’s thirty minutes later, the cafe is open, and we’ve got a bit of a groove going. Kris is working the espresso machine while I take orders and do pour overs for the sparse trickle of customers that passes for the morning rush. The music isn’t bad. It’s a little louder than I would choose for myself, but something I can get used to.
I glance back at Kris. He’s a bit slow on the machine, way too slow if we were ever to get a real influx of customers. He bops his head slightly along with the music’s backbeat as he works, and I wonder if knows he’s doing it.
“Nice music!” I turn to see an old man peeking through the kitchen door. After a moment of confusion, I realize it’s Ari’s grandfather who I’ve met a few times.
“Hi there Mr. Kugelmann. The other barista, Kris, knows the band,” I explain.
“Very impressive.” He walks through the door and scans the room. “And that’s Kris on the espresso machine? Ari told me we have a new employee. I’d like to welcome him to the team”
“Yeah, he just started. Let me introduce you.”
We take a few minutes to say our hellos after which Gramps, as he asked us to call him, picks up a mug of coffee Kris prepared for him.
“Do you want us to turn down the music, sir?” Kris asks without a hint of sarcasm.
“It’s Gramps and the music is fine. If the volume’s up I can actually hear what they’re saying, plus it drowns out that infernal racket in the back. They’re installing a new vent and I’m just trying to stay out of the way.”
“Well, you’re always welcome up here. Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
I swing around and look at Kris and shake my head. What is this version of Kris? Polite and respectful. Not one snark, sneer, or smirk in sight. It’s actually kind of sweet, but I’d never tell him that. We settle back into the groove of working together with Gramps sitting up front and Kris and I behind the counter.
***
“Hey! Is that you, Dirty Dave?” I immediately turn to the front. That’s definitely not Gramps calling me by my high school nickname. Fuck. I try to suppress the nervous tingle going down my spine and say a prayer that Kris didn’t hear whoever said it. I narrow my eyes at the man walking towards me. He’s tall and well-dressed, somewhere in his 20s. And he’s smiling at me. Who the hell is he?
“It’s me, Matt Burnbaum from Rocky Canyon Day School.”
“Matt!” I say as enthusiastically as I can. “How’s it going, bro?” I can feel my ears starting to burn. I wish Kris wasn’t here to witness this.
“It’s alright, man. Shit, it’s great to see you. How long has it been?”
“Six years.”
“Right on. So, what’re you doing here? I thought you went to med school across town?”
“Yeah, I did, but I decided to make a change. I work here when I’m not in class.”
“Solid. So, are you still partying like a monster? Tearing it up with the chicks?”
I let out a nervous laugh
“Between work and school, I’m pretty busy, but you know me.”
“Yeah, I do.” He smiles and reaches over the counter to fist bump me. I reluctantly fist bump back.
“So, what are you up to?” From the look of him, he’s doing well for himself.
“I just got made junior associate at a law firm downtown.”
“Good for you.”
“Yeah, living the dream.” He grins again.
“Well, uh, can I get you anything?”
“I’ll have a large Americano.”
“Room for milk?” I ask, falling into my Barista patter.
“No, I like it straight,” Matt says.
“Cool, cool.”
I type in the order and slide away from the counter, so I don’t have to keep making small talk with Matt. I can’t believe that little Mattie Burnbaum from high school. Good god if he knew what my life really looked like right now, I doubt he’d be fist bumping me.
I walk over to Kris, who’s diligently preparing the Americano. At least I think he is., I haven’t quite gotten up the courage to look him in the eye. But his hands seem to be doing the right things. He clears his throat, and I look at his face. He’s smiling again. But not the lecherous or excited smile from earlier. This one dances with mischief.
“Old friend of yours?” he whispers.
“Yeah. We can talk about it later.”
“Yes, let’s do that.” His gray sparkle with glee.
I shoot him a scalding look and swipe the drink he’s just finished preparing. After I hand the cup to Matt, I smile and wave as he leaves.
“Great seeing you!” he calls, and the bell jingles as he goes.
“You too,” I call back, and immediately deflate.
I sense Kris’ eyes on my back before I hear him.
“You forgot to ask him if he wants a donut. I think you’re slipping Dave.”
Before I tell Kris to shut up, the door jingles and two customers walk in. Perfect. Maybe he didn’t hear Mattie call me Dirty Dave and we can forget about the whole thing.
Judging from the looks he shoots me over the next two hours. Kris has not forgotten. He looks thrilled, like a prime piece of meat has dropped into his hands and he intends to chew it slowly. I am the meat, damn it.
I can’t tell whether he wants to roast me for being a hopeless closet case, or for being fake, or for not having a social life. They’re all true. I mean, I’m not in the closet anymore, but I didn’t exactly call everyone from high school to give them an update when I came out. Not that I owe them that. I don’t owe any of them anything. Kris neither. Fuck him if he has any problem with what I’m doing.
I grab a dishrag and start aggressively wiping the counter. What gives Kris the right to give me that look? What does he want from me? We all do what we have to stay safe. He should know that. But honestly, I think he just wants to tease me. Like he wants to pull my pigtails, metaphorically speaking.
I check the clock and it’s time for my lunch. Kris should be finishing his break. I can breeze in, grab my salad, and hopefully keep my pigtails intact.
Kris is sitting at the table slurping some instant ramen when I enter the break room. He looks up and smiles.
“Dirty Dave. He called you Dirty Dave. Care to explain?”
I think about turning around and ignoring him, but I decide to be brave and sit down.
“No. It was an ironic nickname.” I slide the chair in so I’m next to him. I don’t need the rest of the cafe hearing this conversation.
“I don’t think it was ironic. Especially in light of your tearing it up with the chicks.” He uses air quotes for emphasis. “Just who were you in high school?”
“It doesn’t matter. That person is gone.”
“I’ll say. Uptight gay Barista Dave used to be Dirty Dave, the partying chick destroyer. It’s an interesting shift.”
“Maybe I’m just bisexual.”
“Are you?”
“No.” I look away and take a breath, wondering if he’s done with the roast. He’s not. He’s leaning in and lowering his voice.
“Listen, I know you need to do whatever it takes to survive. I barely spoke to anyone in high school and then dropped out. But you’ve got a secret identity…you’re like that guy in the movie…”
“The Talented Mr. Ripley?”
“No, the one with the Joker.
“Batman? You think I’m like Batman?”
“Yeah. Except your superpower is making lattes and pulling on Grindr.”
I can’t help but laugh. The moment hangs between us, with us each smiling at each other. And something about it, the way I feel seen, makes me let down my guard without considering it.
“I didn’t really tear it up with girls,” I say.
“Shocking,” he drawls.
“I barely dated, and when I did, it was very…respectful. I just talked a big game to the other boys and made-up fictional hookups.” I lean back in my chair, trying to put a little distance between us. Why did I sit so close?
“I get it. Everyone was terrified of me, so I didn’t have to lie.” He grins evilly.
“You’re not that scary.”
“I used to bark at anyone who came too close.”
I laugh again. The image of teenage Kris barking at his classmates is too much.
“I wish I could have seen that.” I don’t even realize I’ve moved back toward him until I feel his breath before he speaks again.
“Yeah, I’m sure you were pretty cute back then, too.”
My heart starts thumping. Cute . He thinks I’m cute. I think he’s… Kris licks his lips, and I can’t tear my eyes away. Our legs brush under the table and I inch closer, pulled inexorably into his orbit. Kris ghosts a hand over my hip. I lean towards him, so our chests barely touch.
Then the front door chimes loudly and we pull apart reflexively. He looks like he wants to continue, but I lose my nerve and lean back.
“Going to get my salad now. I got one for you too. Can you cover up front?”
“Of course, boss.” He rises to his feet and wipes his hands down his apron. The shape of his legs through the fabric distracts me and I almost pull him back down. He chuckles like he can read my mind, then turns away.
“Keep it dirty, boss,” he says before disappearing into the front.
I close my eyes and try to find what’s left of my sanity. There’s very little left to grasp.