The misty rain poured hard
upon Matthew as he left his house that early morning for the coffee
shop. It wasn't a hard soaking rain but a gently falling mist that
would still leave his clothes dew-drenched and damp upon reaching his
destination and perhaps through the whole morning. He pulled his
wool grey beret down over his ears and pulled his sweater down around his
hands, then set off on his bouncy walk towards his place of work, his
knapsack swinging by his side.
Today felt like any other
morning in the last year, the weather may change from the blaring hot
sun of summer to the many colored leaf-strewn pavement of the Fall to
the misty wetness of early winter, that he had been working at the
coffee shop. Every day the same, really, because most of the time he
was the opener of the small coffee shop that resided on a side-street
down the street from the main drag of his small town, the town of
which he had grown up. Most of the other small staff, the two new
girls that were recent hired, were not amicable to working the
morning shift so off he went to do the usual day, the setting up of
the tables and chairs, the baking of the muffins which were such a
major draw to his regulars, roasting the coffee, etc etc etc. The
music on the CD player always skipped and he'd spend most of the
morning jumping to get it unstuck. Maybe that wasn't the best idea
for the CDs, since there was such a limited variety, but he was so
tired of having to dust them off, clean them, etc etc etc. Sometimes
he put on the local NPR station, but usually once the customers came
in, they found that distracting.
When he reached the coffee
shop, he unlocked the backdoor with a reluctant sigh, stamping out
his cigarette in the sand-bucket provided on the back step for
employees that smoked, well, just him. He was grateful for the newly
hired new girls, not just because they were cute, but because he
didn't have to pull so many double shifts, him and his boss, Tom,
sometimes the only two faithful devotees to the Soul Cafe besides the
smattering few customers who came daily, his friends.
He gazed around at the small
one room cafe, a charm singular to a few folks. A few of the
“hippie” folk, more obscure than those “hippies” who
frequented Garo's, the main street alternative-style coffee shop.
These were his friends, he'd grown up with the majority of them, and
they had a style all their own, a way of looking at life understood
by the main population, of which they all provided themselves upon.
As he gazed around at the
tiny coffee shop, the tables in various places, a few by the windows,
a few lined up against the walls, a computer, a bookshelf, the bar
where the cream was kept, the refrigerator for the other drinks for
non-coffee drinkers, the counter, (his home base while at work), and
the fireplace. He sighed. Another added job for today was starting
a fire in there, the day was just cool enough. He sighed, removing
his sweater and beret, to reveal his curly short red hair and shaking
the dew off, he moved into the kitchen, hanging his coat and hat in
the provided employee location. Now, to start the muffins.
Maybe today, he thought,
maybe today something extraordinary will happen, well, at least out
of the ordinary.
The morning dragged on. A
few customers came in, two ordered and left, one walked in, looked
around, asked if they made 'frappacinos', to which he sarcastically
replied with a smile, “You want Starbucks up the street.” Off
the went! Usually he could spot those types before they even entered
the coffee shop and he would use his Jedi mind tricks, waving his
hand a la Obiwan and saying “this is not the coffee shop you are
looking for”, and then they'd abruptly turn even before opening the
door. There is power in the barista!
He leaned against the wall
behind the counter, staring straight ahead, waiting....waiting....for
what? His shift to end, another customer, his friends to get their
lazy asses out of their bed and come amuse him. Chopin played on in
the background. What he did not expect, then happened.
She walked in. She wasn't
really anything unusual or even special at the time. Lots of cute
girls came in, but there was something that stood out to him about
her, specifically. It was something he couldn't quite put his finger
on, but nevertheless he felt a draw towards her. She approached the
counter and looked at him, yes, really looked. Her eyes, full of
warmth and acceptance, looked into his and she smiled. He smiled,
his blue eyes twinkling. This wasn't so unusual, if anyone else was
around to see him, he often flirted with the female customers, of all
ages, well almost, because...yeah, better tips!
“Um, hi,” the girl said
at last, with a nervous giggle in her throat.
“Hey there,” he smiled
back. “What can I do for you?”
This was his usual request
when a pretty girl approached the counter, as opposed to the male
customers, “What can I get for you?”
The girl smiled up at him,
her dark shoulder-length hair falling over her face. She pushed it
back and looked at him, biting her lip, nervously.
“I'd like...a...pound of
coffee or something,” she breathed out.
“A pound of coffee or
something?” he asked furtively.
“Well, its a birthday
present for my room-mate, she likes coffee, not me,” the girl
explained.
“Oh, we'll have to remedy
that,” Matthew smiled. “What does she like, dark or medium?”
“Excuse me?”
“Its the style of roast,”
Matthew explained slowly.
“What do you like?” She
asked, her eyes gazing up at him, imploringly. Ah, there it was, the
draw towards her pulling him stronger and perhaps his first in, help
the damsel in distress as it were.
“Oh, I'm partial to the
Moka Java myself,” he said flirtatiously.
“I'll have a pound of that
then,” she flirted back. He turned to pour the coffee beans into
the brown paper bag. He looked at her over his glasses, waiting, and
then he finally said,
“So, what's your name?”
“Oh, sorry, I'm Deborah,”
she responded quickly. “And you?”
“Matt,” he smiled at
her.
“Hello Matt,” she said
with a delicious smile tossed his way. He smiled back and set the
coffee bean bag on the counter before her. “How much?”
He looked at her, confused
for a moment, and then realized she was referring to the bag. So
pulled towards her, he had momentarily forgotten everything around
him. Maybe he was just horny, it had been awhile after all, but
no...there was something more about this girl.
“It's 12.99,” he
replied. “You get a free 12 oz cup of coffee with that, if you'd
like.”
“I don't know, I am not
really a coffee person, I don't really partake,” she began.
“We'll have to change
that, as I said,” he interjected.
“Is that part of your evil
plan to take over the world? Convert the world to coffee?”
“I am a barista after
all,” he smiled down at her. She bit her lip again under the
weight of his stare and he so wanted to kiss those pink lips.
“Oh, I get it, like a drug
pusher or something, only legal?” she continued the thread.
“Something like that,”
he threw back at her. “So?”
“So what?”
“So, the coffee, you want
it?” he asked.
“Well, I'm not much of a
coffee drinker, as I said, too bitter, well I used to be, I spent a
semester abroad in Italy and they KNOW coffee, but then when I came
back it really didn't measure up so I gave it up, you know,” she
rambled on in an unnecessary explanation.
“Yeah, well I aim to show
you American coffee can be good,” he said flirtatiously.
“Or at least American
baristas!” she blurted out.
“What?” he asked
surprised. She blushed under his gaze and looked away. Quickly he
said, “You know what? I'll make you a cappuccino, on the house, all
right? It will be a good introduction.”
“Oh, thank you,” she
said, still not meeting his gaze, her face still red. She laid a
twenty dollar bill on the counter and waited while he made the drink.
“So, you are a student?”
he asked, really wanting to know.
“Just graduated, actually,
you?”
“No, not really, I mean, a
student of life, I guess,” he stumbled out, fumbling with the cash
register he'd used a million times but now in his embarrassment for
his lack of a life against her accomplishments he seemed to forget.
His loss loomed up in front of him, what could she possibly want with
him?
“That's awesome,” she
said, and he noticed not condescendingly. “I wish I did that, so
are you from around here?”
“Yeah, born and raised,”
he seemed to relax with her encouragement.
“So, you are a townie?”
she said excitedly. “My first townie!”
“Yeah, I guess I am,” he
laughed and she joined him. They shared a moment. He handed her
change over to her, she placed it in her wallet.
“So, now what?” she said
looking at him, expectantly. What did she want? How could he keep
her here a little longer?
“Taste it,” he smiled at
her, motioning towards the cup on the counter. She looked down at it
and placed her hands around the warm mug.
“Oh, I love the design,”
she smiled up at him.
“Yeah, thanks,” he said
gratefully. “Sometimes I read the fortunes in the lattes.”
“Lattes? But this isn't a
latte,” she said, truthfully. “Could you still show me what it
means?”
“Well, I guess just this
once,” he smiled at her and moved his hand over to the mug, his
fingers touching hers. “Ah, I see.”
“What?” she wanted to
know as she looked at the drink, then at him, then at the drink, then
back at him. “What do you see?”
“Well, its difficult to
explain but I can say you are in for a real treat here,” he began.
“And not just the drink, an adventure is about to begin.”
“What do I do?” she
breathed out, playing along with his role-playing of the
barista/fortune teller.
“I can only advise that
you taste it and enjoy for all its worth,” he smiled at her,
knowingly, daring her. She reached for the cup, her fingers trailing
along his hand as she picked it up and he moved his hands away. She
tasted, took a big sip, and then smiled up at him, happily.
“Mmmm, delicious,” she
said at last.
“And, that is just the
beginning,” he explained. “Keep going.”
“There's more!” she
finally said, after another drink.
“Just wait and see,” he
said, flirtatiously. “Just wait and see.”
“I could say the same to
you,” she said, holding the mug just in front of her mouth and
smiling over it. “Not too busy today.”
“Yeah, it can be slow,”
he said.
“Want to join me on the
deck?” she asked, biting her lip behind the mug.
“Yeah, I'd like that,”
he smiled. She moved towards the door and he stopped her with, “You
don't mind if I smoke, do you?”
“No, no, that's fine,”
she nodded and moved out of the door. He watched her set the mug
down at the one patio table and sit near the window. He saw her take
a deep breath and then smile expectantly, and a smile twitched at his
lips. I've got an in here, he thought hopefully.
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