Chapter 5
“Noah.” I yell as I set another coffee down on the counter, smiling back at a tall skater boy type. If I weren’t in such a rush I would take a minute longer to appreciate his vibrant tattoos and overall good looks.
He thanks me before heading out the door. Which is just as well. As cute as he is, I suck at relationships. A one night stand? Sure. But that’s not the type of people I tend to meet at my counter, nor do I want to mix business with pleasure.
Grabbing five more cups, I scribble the intended recipient’s name on each of their sides, line them up, and grab the coffee pot to my right without looking. My hand lands too low and I am scalded by the piping hot carafe.
Fuck.
I hold back a scream that brews beneath the surface. Note to self. Pay attention to what I’m doing so that I never do that again. Looking over my hand, I scoff at my stupidity. Funny how something that hurts this bad often can’t even be seen. Oddly similar to how I feel like I’m drowning right now.
I need help. Like, serious help. But I don’t have any dependable friends—or any for that matter—that are worth hiring, not to mention, I swear, every person who takes a job here only sees this as a pit stop or a temporary gig until they move onto something better.
Which, okay, fair because Nashville has an endless supply of jobs that are much more fun, but also, it’s a real pain in my ass.
Every day I open, it’s like I can feel my anxiety climbing higher and higher as I try to navigate the shop’s rapid growth on my own.
I think of the listing I put online. I figure maybe that will bring someone here for this job, someone who likes a laid back work place and the fast paced atmosphere of the city.
It’s only been a few days, but so far not a single application has come through and it’s really starting to stress me out. As if I wasn’t already.
Reaching again for the carafe, this time carefully making sure I grab the handle, I pour all five cups back to back, adding specialty creamers down the line.
Next, I add sugar and even a dash of cinnamon to the last. Calling out each perspective name, I set the cups down on the counter one by one until they are with their rightful owners.
Looking into the sea of people, every table is full, the line that once ran all the way to the door is now empty, and for the first time this morning I can take a breath.
Three months.
I don’t know how it’s possible, but today marks three whole ass months since I opened Southern Sip.
And what’s even more shocking is how well it’s doing.
To think I walked past a ‘for sale’ sign one day, not knowing that making a call just to see what it would cost would end up leading me here. But also to the panic of this morning.
Shrugging, I sigh and turn back toward the wall of coffee pots, checking if I need to make another batch.
I add some beans to the grinder and flip the switch to ON before walking toward the register to grab my notebook.
I pause a moment to smile at the rainbow tiger on the cover—the one thing in this place that has my personality rather than something that appeals to the masses.
I scan the list of things I need to order, wishing employees were as easy to obtain as travel cups.
Leaning back on the counter, I take in the scene of my shop.
So as not to scare away any of the older customers, I kept the decor basic with muted blue walls, coffee cup paintings and dark wood tables.
The store itself feels like a direct reflection of the front I put on everyday.
I thought opening up a coffee shop, taking this risk, would give me a sense of purpose, make me feel whole, like if I had something all my own I wouldn’t feel so empty, but all it has brought me is financial stability.
And though that’s an amazing accomplishment, it leaves me feeling just as empty as before.
My entire life I’ve been chasing after fulfillment.
A reason. A why. But all it’s given me is the title of jack of all trades, but a master of none.
And much like the meek style of this place, I try to make sure I too fit in a box so that I can live a simple life.
I long to be surrounded by joy and color, people who make me truly happy, but for now, just like this room, I’m blue.
I smile as I watch the customers who occupy this space.
Hushed conversations, laughter, and happiness are sprinkled at every table.
Each day I’m met with new people, but the same reminder.
I am alone and I always have been. And even though I didn’t decorate the shop to fit my personality, it’s still something I accomplished all on my own. And I’m proud of that.
Ringing snaps me out of my daze. I hurry over and grab the transparent pink phone, twisting the cord around my finger as I clear my throat.
“Hello, Southern Sip, this is Kaylee.”
“Hey! My name is Daisy, is the job still available?”
May 28, 2004
Everyone always talks about that childhood best friend that sticks by them through the years, but I never found myself lucky enough to hold on to much, especially friends. I’ve never had a person I could depend on growing up. Someone who just got me. That is, until I met Daisy.
She’s nothing like me, my total opposite, the yin to my yang.
She’s the sunshine to my stormy personality.
The Will to my Grace. And even though our friendship has been short, she’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to family.
We do everything together and there’s no one in this world I’d rather watch trashy reality TV with than her.
“So I have bad, good news,” Daisy announces, scanning my face for a reaction. Her ocean blue eyes swim with worry, a stark contrast to her long dark hair that spills around her shoulders and down her back.
I let out a fake disappointed breath, watching my feet on the sidewalk as I walk with my best friend toward Southern Sip for today’s shift.
“Daisy, don’t you dare tell me you’re leaving me.”
I’m only half-serious, I knew this day would come and I was already prepared for it since the day she started.
She never struck me as the barista-type anyway, not with how awful she is at making coffee.
But hiring her on the spot blossomed into an unexpected friendship, one that I can’t imagine my life without.
For the first time ever I have someone I can depend on, who shows up when I need her, doesn’t judge my mistakes and makes me feel like family.
And family wouldn’t let those they love settle.
Daisy is built for bigger and better things than standing behind a counter, she lives through music, and without it, I don’t think she’d ever truly be happy.
“I’ve got news too. You go first… This is my it’s not you, it’s me moment, isn’t it? ” I laugh.
“I got the job at Telluride Records.” I look over at my best friend as she watches me with her big, blue, doe eyes for a reaction.
“No… Way…” I toss out the most exaggerated gasp I can muster, and she immediately smiles at my joke.
I knew she was as good as gone the minute she told me she was applying for the job.
They are lucky to have her. But still, I can’t help the sarcastic little comment fall from my lips as I tease, “Well, best twenty-four days of my life. How long do I get to keep you until you’re rich and famous? ”
“A few weeks as a barista and forever as a BFF.” She smiles, and I can’t help but believe her words.
Because that’s the thing about Daisy, if she says she’s going to do something, she always will.
She’s a both-feet-in kind of girl. All or nothing.
That’s literally how she got to Nashville in the first place.
“Fair, I guess I’ll take down that best friend advertisement I put out trying to replace you.”
“Stop, you did not do that!” She laughs.
“I actually did, but not to replace you. It’s just gotten so busy I figured it was time to hire some help so we could get a damn day off. That was my news. Well, that, and there are some interviews today.”
We arrive at the shop and I unlock the door, heading in first to flip on the lights.
Daisy walks straight to the coffee. Funny how she plans to leave after finally having grasped how to make all the most important drinks.
It only took two full weeks of oops pots and even worse concoctions she thought might be good.
No one in their right mind wants a weak coffee where the syrup is more than half its contents.
I cringe at the memory of the raspberry caramel drink she made.
I would have been far better off just taking shots of the syrup and chasing with water, but the memory was well worth the sugar high and disgusting flavor.
The day progresses rather laid back for a Friday and the crowd luckily dies down early.
Daisy makes her rounds emptying all of the garbage cans while I wash a few of the dishes and then head back to the till for a midday count.
The bell above the door rings, drawing my gaze.
I have to admit, even if having a coffee shop didn’t turn out to be what I wanted, it still has its perks.
And by perks, I mean attractive men constantly crossing the threshold.
I do my best to act completely uninterested, but he’s the type of good looking that requires zero talent to get the job.
And I can think of two jobs any girl would happily do for him. Myself included.
“Hey.” His deep voice and devilishly handsome looks draw my attention, although it was already piqued. “I’ll take a black coffee.”
A black coffee? Really?
Well, I guess he’s got to have a flaw that stands out immediately. Every man does. I hope he’s not as boring as what he drinks or my desire to fuck him stops at his looks.