“Ah, we must be out.” I wince, pretending not to care, as it doesn’t make sense to tell an Oreo thief where I hide the Oreos. The microwave dings. I grab my pasta, and head back to my office. In the rush to open the shop this morning alone—because Jade was late again—I had no time to eat until now. Jade couldn’t have caught me at a worse moment.
I’m not proud of what I did. When she came in late, I was so overwhelmed, I ended up letting her go. Jade was never on time, and you’d think for having a new boss, you’d at least try. Sure, today is Christmas Eve, and terrible timing, but she'd need to go eventually with her performance. I might as well give her the holiday off.
I’m not a jerk.
The stress added up too fast.
Now, there’s this constant constriction in my chest, and I’m having trouble breathing. I still haven’t found a hotel that doesn’t cost a kidney. I finally got a rental car dropped off, which gives me more options for a hotel. As soon as I have time, I’m going online to book a room. It had been a week since I had slept in an actual bed, and it is wearing on my mental health. Not to mention the kink in my neck.
That wasn’t even the worst pain I had. It turns out the previous owners didn’t provide accurate records. I had requested three years of tax returns at the time of closing. Now that I can see the actual sales, it is clear they were fudging the numbers to prepare it for sale. There is no way they were making the kind of money they said they were banking. Either that, or all their customers left when they sold the place. Sometimes that happens. Customer loyalty is a real thing.
There is the typical morning rush you’d expect for a coffee shop, but that only lasts an hour, or so, and it quickly dies down to nothing but a slow drip of random people throughout the day. There is no reason we’d ever need two people working simultaneously. Not to mention the bad habits of the two people I had. Plus, they were both being paid inflated management wages. I don’t need management anymore. I need cheap labor. There’s no way they’d stand for a pay cut. I know I wouldn’t.
I’m coming to terms with what needs to be done. I hate this situation, but it’s better to let my overpaid management go. They can draw unemployment. I can regroup with new people. After the holidays, I’ll have a huge grand reopening ceremony to introduce the Coffee Loft brand.
I shovel pasta into my mouth and stare at the deposit slip I filled out. Twenty-three bucks and eighteen cents. Not worth even going to the bank. Sure, most people pay with plastic or digital these days, but even that won’t keep this place running. I must assume the old owners used this place as a tax write-off of some sort, but I can’t do that. I’ll lose everything. I barely got financing for this place. If it wasn’t for my grandma putting up her own business as collateral to obtain a personal loan, I wouldn’t even be sitting here.
No, I don’t need to go to the bank, but I’m going to walk there anyway for some fresh air and a chance to clear my head. I shove the deposit slip in my pocket and emerge from the office to findPortia leaning over the counter with a coffee cup in one hand and a Sharpie in the other. Her hair is pulled up into twin messy buns, and her smile is bright and inviting. Despite all the sass, she really is beautiful. “So, you said your first name is Brad?” She writes the customer’s name on the cup. That part I don’t have a problem with. It’s what spews out of her mouth next that makes my mocha boil. “Tell me, Brad. Are you getting a drink for your girlfriend, or is it just—”
“That’s enough!” I step in front of her and steal the cup. My blood pressure spikes, and I remind myself to take deep breaths. “Stop hitting on the customers,” I grumble as I place the cup next to the espresso machine while I run shots.
“I wasn’thittingon him,” she hisses under her breath. “I’m trying to find out if he’s single.”
“I don’t care if you were buying him a winning lottery ticket,” I hiss. “It’s not appropriate to harass the customers like that.” I empty the espresso shots into the cup and seal the lid before handing the cup to Brad. Portia and I watch silently as Brad leaves, but as soon as the door closes behind him, we resume the same fight we’ve been having since she came in at noon. “You need to start being professional, or—”
“Or what?” She parks her hand haughtily on her perfectly rounded hip. “Go ahead and tell me that I’m getting fired, because I’d really like to see you run this place without me.”
“Don’t even test me. I already let Jade go this morning.”
“What? You let Jade go?” Her jaw unhinges, flapping all the way down until I can see the dental filling in her lower left side. It’s nothing disgusting but hints of a sweet tooth. “You’re bluffing. Why would you do that?”
I toss a shoulder up into anI’m-bored-of-this-conversationshrug. “It wasn’t anything personal. I reworked the budget, and I need to revamp things to save money. She was paid management wages, and I don’t need a manager as I’m here.Add to it, the fact she’s been late every day for the last two weeks.”
“You weren’t even here the last two weeks. You have no idea how hard we’ve been working.” Her eyes narrow until there is nothing left but tiny slits. “You are a jerk.”
“That almost sounds like disrespecting your boss.” My words were low, hinting at a warning. Judging from the looks of the books, I had to assume that Jade and Portia had been running this place into the ground, and I don’t feel bad about needing to take this place in a new direction. A direction that makes money. It’s not personal. Well, a little personal because I really didn’t care for her sass, but it is also business.
“Go head, and fire me,” she huffs as she juts out her chin. “You wouldn’t last one week without me. You’d lose all your business. Nobody is going to buy coffee from your bobble head.”
“Oh, really?” My head tilts, partially from the kink in my neck, but even more than that, it’s what happens when my ego weighs in. It’s a minor flaw that happens sometimes. “Not only will I ‘handle’ it by myself without you and Jade,” I insert finger quotes around the word handle. I’m so worked up from the stress of everything, I’m acting completely out of character by feeding into her attitude, “It’ll be my best week ever.”
Her voice drops so low, it’s hardly above a whisper. “What are you saying?”
My lips twist into a sinister grin. Maybe from the stress of sleeping on an ancient sofa that smells like sweaty feet. Maybe it’s ego. Something gets into me. “I’m saying you can leave. I don’t need your attitude. I certainly don’t want to keep my Oreos on lockdown anymore.”
“Well.” Portia sticks her leg out, tapping her foot as if it is helping her to keep from running her mouth. “Just you wait, and you’ll see I’m right. You’ll come crawling back.”
“Doubt it.” I nod to the door. “Leave your apron, and I’ll send your check in the mail.”
“You’re serious?” She whips off her apron and balls it up. I duck, assuming she’s going to hurl it at me, but she maintains her composure and stuffs it in the hamper on her way out. “Just wait until I tell everyone you painted over black mold!”
“You can’t do that!” I yell, pacing after her toward the exit. “That’s slander!” I doubt she hears me, because the door is already shut. I brush my hands together, feeling a job well done. Problem number two is solved. Now that I don’t have her harassing my customers, I’ll surely getwaymore business. I can focus on my grand reopening, and everything is going to be amazing from here on out.
I scan the empty foyer, tracing the unfilled aisle to the counter. Nothing but emptiness. The clock ticks loudly on the wall behind me, and for the first time since I’ve been here, I notice a hum from the light in the dessert display case. I walk back to the office, yank out a sheet of printer paper, and scribble Help Wanted. When I come back to tape it in the window, I scan up and down the street. Empty. “ItisChristmas Eve. People are with their families. Just give it a couple of days until people realize this place has a hip new owner, and a fresh look.” I tell myself. “Then it’ll be packed.”
six
Portia
