“Present,” Skylar cut in while stepping forward. She shot Kaylee a humoured glare, but she just rolled her eyes to the ceiling with her lips curling upwards.
He eyed Skylar, her gothic, dark outfit, and then the few steps away to where she’d been cleaning the machine. “You were there the whole time and said nothing?”
She wiped her hands on her black apron and offered a wry smile. “I’m sorry, sir, but she’s right. You tried to order two different drinks in one, and it’s just not possible. Like she asked, would you prefer foam with chocolate on top or–”
“That’s a mocha, you daft idiot.”
Skylar’s eye twitched, and the lights above surged and flickered in response. “No, a mocha has chocolateinyour coffee. A cappuccino has it on top only. A flat white doesn’t have foam or chocolate.”
“You know what? Screw this. There’s another café a few shops down,” he spat out, peeking at his watch again. “I’ll be ringing your real estate later to get ahold of the owner. I’m sure they’d like to know how inconsiderate their employees are.”
Skylar closed her eyes and offered him the biggest, closed-lip smile she could muster, hoping it was snide and condescending. “I am the owner, you pretentious fuckwit. Get the fuck out of my shop.” She opened her eyes and pointed to the camera above. “I’ll make sure to print out your photo with a life ban and a warning as to why: ‘Condescending idiot tries to tell a professional barista how to do their job like a little man-bitch.’”
His tanned face turned red with rage. “You can’t do that. I haven’t given you consent to film me or–”
“Actually, you did!” Skylar exclaimed while clapping her hands. “It’s literally on the door as you walked in. Go gaslight thesun.” Then she dropped all her pleasantries, her face going cold and cruel. She darkened her voice and even pushed in a spark of magic as she demanded,“Out. Now.”
His lips flattened with defiant annoyance before he looked around at the witnesses staring at him. The three other patrons inside shook their heads.
He quickly left, grumbling to himself.
The tension thickening the shop was sliced through by a patron who laughed, his welcoming chuckles lightening the mood significantly.
“You two always attract trouble, you know that, right?” Malcom said, leaning back in his chair and away from his laptop where he’d been working. “Kaylee has an attitude problem, and you’re short-tempered.”
Skylar picked up another damp cloth to wipe her hands and then scrubbed the counter now that Kaylee was no longer leaning on it. “After five years of abuse, you can just see it coming and know nothing will help but to be a dick back. It makes it feel rewarding, rather than just taking it. I’d rather lose his five bucks than let him abuse my employees, or me.”
“I’m not the one with an attitude problem,” Kaylee said, leaning on the counter once Skylar was done to stare at her long, manicured nails. “He started it.”
“To be fair” – Skylar shrugged, then sighed as she looked towards the door – “people judge me on the way I look. They see piercings and a goth, and think I’m some dropkick who never went to university or worked my ass off to own my own business.”
She looked down at her black dress partially covered by her apron. The flowy skirt came to her mid-thigh; the fake boning made a soft corset around her middle and cupped her breasts; and a pentagram made of strapping created a pattern across herchest. To finish it off, she wore a pair of flatform boots – because screw walking around in platforms all day – that came halfway up her calves.
Her nails were manicured with builder gel to make them stronger and painted a glossy black. Stylised make-up completed her preferred aesthetic – black lipstick, bat-wing eyeliner to help her hooded eye situation, painted-on lower lashes for that spiky goth look, and pink blush on her cheeks and nose for a touch of cutesiness. Her foundation cost over eighty dollars and was from a gothic brand that was able to match her pale skin, especially as shealwaysstruggled to find one light enough that didn’t paint her with a touch of orange or worse... green.
She hated how it hid her freckles, but it did make her light-blue eyes pop – especially in the sun. Not that she went in the sun, as she’d cook up like a lobster and turn bright red in under ten minutes within the Australian summer heat.
And summer was coming like a looming dark cloud in the distance.
Her arms were free of any tattoos, but she had a serpent coiling around her right thigh, and an elaborate back piece. She just hadn’t worked up to the rest of her body, as she realised after her thigh was done that she wanted tattooed sleeves and was having commitment issues regarding the designs.
“I think you look hot,” Kaylee threw at her. “He was probably so blinded by your beauty that he put his foot in his big, stupid mouth.”
Skylar laughed. “You do know that most people findyoumore attractive, Miss Runway.”
Happy with the attention, she pulled her messy ponytail forward and twirled it. “Of course I do. I use it to my advantage every chance I get.” Then Kaylee threw her fingers forward andtwinkled her pretty stiletto nails at her. “My sugar daddy got me these.”
“You shouldn’t call your boyfriend your sugar daddy,” Skylar chided with a laugh. “He might get offended.”
Malcom grunted and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Skylar knew why. It was because the big punk softie had a thing for Kaylee and just kept showing up, hoping she’d one day be single. It was cute and not creepy because Skylar knew he was exactly her type, they were good friends, and Kaylee knew of his feelings. She’d given permission for Skylar not to chase him away from their workplace.
In part, all three were hoping things would happen one day, if her current boyfriend messed up... again. That, or if Kaylee did, as she was conceited and rude, yet funny and eccentric.
She was a bit of a conundrum. Bitchy but kind, silly but intelligent, prissy but super willing to do the hard work when required. All girly-pop cheerleader, who’d be down to get dirty and help dig up a body in the cemetery if someone precious to her needed it.
Many questions would be asked as to why, though, with Kaylee wanting the tea while they were in the middle of doing it.
“Get back to work. You’re supposed to be aquietestablishment,” Malcom joked, crouching over his laptop once more. The top of his curly mohawk became more apparent, and the light glinted off his eyebrow piercings. He wore a black T-shirt that showed off his tattooed arms, and black jeans that were bunched up to account for his big combat boots.
