A coffee shop? I guess the informality is good, but I may have overdressed. I swipe my hands over the dark burgundy woollen dress I’m wearing and wonder if it’s too late to go back and get changed. I felt good putting it on this morning. I’m almost convinced they made the dress with magic because it gives me curves that I’ve never seen on my body before. My T-shirts always gave me a boyish body, straight up and down, but this dress has given me an hourglass shape. Putting in on this morning, I felt confident. Elegant. It is pretty without being too formal or too revealing and the tailored blazer I paired it with and the heeled boots…well…I look good, but way too smart for a coffee shop in the Arts district.
If I can’t even dress appropriately, what else will I mess up?
Cas seems to pick up on my fast-tanking mood. He flicks his gaze between me and the road ahead before frowning. “What is it? What are you thinking?
“I don’t think I’m ready for this. I look ridiculous, and I’m not even sure what I’m here to do. I thought we were going to a formal interview…shit.”
“You’re panicking. You look fantastic. Relaxed formal…no. What is it Ashlynn always says? Smart casual! That’s it! And you know exactly what to do; you knock them dead and that’s all there is to it. Think of it like ditching a cheating ex and picking up a new hotter guy all at once.”
I can’t help but laugh as Cas scrambles to cheer me.
I appreciate it though, and I remind myself to gain a little perspective. This time last week, I wouldn’t dream of asking for the privileges I’m asking for today. And If I were still with Eric Feelan, I’d still be attending school in my raggedy jeans and tees with holes and factory reject knickers. I’m lucky and should be grateful.
“Thanks, Cas. At least I don’t look like I just crawled out of the Vale wearing my dad’s food encrusted hand-me-downs, right?”
“Okaaay…We’ll go with that as a win for sure.” He grins and Itry to relax.
But as we pull up, I realise I really am walking into this meeting blindly. I don’t know why both reps are here to meet with me, and I don’t want to look like a fool, so I pull out my phone and plan a message.
I’m outside the café. Not sure what I’m negotiating for.
I’d appreciate a heads up.
I almost address it to Aiden, but before my thumb can hit the button, I relent and send it to Dax instead. I won’t avoid him. Not when I obviously owe him both my gratitude and an apology.
His reply is fast.
Simply facilitate the transfer of your earned credits to the course at HU. They will offer you a range of courses to pick up to meet your finishing credit total. Then your degree will come from HU instead of VCC. HU is happy to do distance learning and online tutelage. It was the best I could do.
It’s amazing. Thank you.
If this works out, it’ll be better than anything I could have hoped for. A degree from HU. Imagine the doors that will open for me! Shit. I really owe Dax Nagano now.
“Everything okay?” The sound of Cas’s steady breathing fills the air as he watches me.
“Yeah.” I open my jacket and pretend to slip the phone into an inside pocket but stash it in the side of my bra instead. The jacket will cover any awkward corners jutting out of the dress, but Ihave a weird anxiety about always keeping the phone on my person. With no pockets, I make do with side-boob. Cas doesn’t seem to have noticed my sleight of hand. I pick up my handbag with my wallet, ID, and printouts of my grades, and suck in a deep steadying breath. “I’ll head inside. Do I have to call you when I’m done or…?”
“No, I’ll be waiting right out here. I’ll watch the entrance and monitor things so you can relax and do what you need to do, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you, Cas.”
Deja Brew’ssignage reminds me of a traditional English pub, complete with its hand-painted sign swinging on a decorative iron arm, square window panes with bowed glass, and black painted wooden trim. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn it was once a pub. I wonder if the subtle hint of magic and fate in the name is intentional too?
Inside confirms my suspicions, with a three-sided bar butted up against a wall of ancient looking shelves. Only, instead of spirits and bottled ales, the shelves are full of coffee beans, cups, sweetened- flavoured syrups, and coffee brewing paraphernalia. The warmth hits you the second you open the door, closely followed by the rich scents of roasting beans and freshly baked pastry. From the freshly cooked smell, they bake the croissants in-house, but I spy some of Charlie’s pies and pasties on the heated food display. Guilt twinges in my gut, but I shove it away and approach the counter.
I’ll grab an order while I’m early and try to find a table in a private position, so my business doesn’t become everyone’s. A pair of teens flit around behind the bar, fixing orders. It’s busy but I make it to the counter with only one customer ahead. I watch both girls. One splits her time between the till and the coffee machine, while the other is stationed between the milk frother and food section.
Most tables have customers, many in pairs, but most sitting solo. I spot three tables available and with only the one customer ahead, I should be safe to choose a seat.
“Hi, can I take your order?”
I scan the board and settle on something easy. “Uh. I’ll have alarge hazelnut latte, please.”
“Anything to eat?”
“No, thank you.” The girl reels off the price and wrinkles her nose when I pay with cash. Although I’m being as careful with it as possible while I’m not earning, I can’t begrudge myself a drink. Not having one in this scenario might be strange. I’m also fully expecting to buy drinks for both reps. It’ll dent my savings, especially if they eat, but it’s the least I can do.
“Hey, you aren’t Jules Girard, are you?” Hearing my name from a stranger stuns me. I stare stupidly at the girl, unsure whether to answer her. She watches me, her eyes dark and expectant, as she waits for an answer. After a few seconds of silence, she apologises, “Sorry. I’m supposed to keep an eye out for someone with that name, and you kind of fit the description.”
