"Benny told me he trusts my discretion." She winks.
"Do you have something in your eye?"
"What the hell! Do you memorize every conversation we've had? How do you do that?"
Yes, I do remember every word she says to me. I replay our conversations in my head and commit to memory each important detail, every joke, anytime she gets my heart rate going. It's impossible not to when she's near me.
I accept the free drink when a group of people come in behind me.
"I guess I'll see you at home." And then I wink.
TawnyandIareslammed with group after group. I've been so distracted with making coffee that I barely comprehend Theo showing up. I have no idea what to expect from this because I'm too busy perfecting drinks for needy customers.
"I wanted this with coconut milk."
You never specified that."I'm so sorry, let me make a new one."
"This isn't hot enough. You need to redo it."
Fine, how about third degree burns on your tongue."I'm so sorry, of course I'll make you a new one."
"My daughter dropped her chocolate milk, is there any way—"
Tawny can mop that up."Oh poor thing, let me make her a new one."
"This tastes like shit."
You're the one who ordered it."I'll make a new one. Try this."
Proceeds to make the exact same drink the same way and the customer is pleased this time.
Between the customers who can't be bothered to put their phone call on hold while they order, or at least give me eye contact, to the bulky man who orders fifteen blended drinks for his youth sport's program without so much as a dollar tip, or the pre-teens who brought in buckets full of sand on their shoeless feet and blasting music from their stereo, I'm exhausted.
But it was the interruption I needed because now there's a lull in our day, enough time before my shift ends to overanalyze how catastrophic tonight might go.
When the phone rings, I'm too preoccupied to answer.
"Roasted, this is Tawny, how can I help you? Yes, she's working right now, would you like to speak with her?"
Tawny sets the phone back in the cradle as confusion wrinkles her forehead.
"What?" I ask.
"Someone keeps calling asking for you."
"A guy?" Beckett is the first person who comes to mind since I blocked his number.
"No, a woman. She's called for the past week, but it was always times you had already left or on your day off. Then she hangs up when I confirm you're here today."
"Strange."
"Very. Bathroom break. You're good?"
"I'll restock and call you if it gets crazy again."
I prepare a shot of espresso so I can get through this last hour. I'm on edge and unaware of the reason.
What the hell could that phone call be about?
