“That’s an understatement, Ms. Meadows.”
I smirk. “Appreciate that, Thomas. You sure are observant, aren’t you? So, what’s next then? If my flight is canceled, where do I go from here?”
He shifts his sights to what I’m assuming to be a coworker, like he needs another set of eyes on our interaction in case he winds up on a missing persons list.
I’m notthatpissed off.
“Focus, Thomas,” I snip. “We’re holding up the line here.”
“Oh,” he stammers. “You’ll be notified via our airline app of your flight’s new departure time.”
“And when might that be?”
Thomas shrugs. “Hard to say.”
Great.This is just great. I’ve got no job. I’m stuck in Nashville with no flight home, a dirty ass, and broken luggage. No car, either, leaving me deserted at the airport.
Deep breaths, Collie. Deep breaths.
“Freaking Music City,” I screech, not caring who witnesses my chaos. “Okay. Okay. It’ll be fine. I’ll figure it out,” I ramble, attempting to steady my panic. “I’ll find some coffee and call my sister. She’ll know exactly what to do.”
“Okay…”
I nod to Thomas and retreat, praying to the stars above that I can figure out a game plan. “Thank you for your time, Thomas. I’ll be sure to leave you a five-star review.”
“What’s a girl gotta do to get a decent coffee around here?”
I tap my hand on the metal bar top, signaling for the bartender to show me some attention. He sends me a suppressed look before holding up a finger to the customer in front of him and sauntering toward me.
I’m convinced today is cursed.
“Ma’am, this is a bar,” the burly bartender tells me, as if I don’t already know that. “You won’t find coffee here, but there’s a barista counter a couple gates over if you want to check them out.”
“Listen, buddy. I’ve had a morning from hell and already had it out with the airline worker. All I need is a decent cup of coffee, and I’ll be on my way. That so much to ask?”
“Actually, yeah. Seeing as how we don’t have coffee here.”
Without giving me a chance to respond, he turns on his heels, but not enough to silence me. Not when I know for a fact that man has a stash of coffee beans somewhere behind this bar.
Taking matters into my own hands, I grab a straw from the canister near the bar nuts and pull off the paper, wad it into a ball, and stuff the rolled paper into the end of a straw.
Seems like someone needs a hard-earned lesson about the customer always being right.
Today ain’t the day to mess with me, buddy.
The satisfaction I feel knowing the smile the burly bartender is sporting will be wiped clean in under two seconds, almost makes up for my bad mood.
Almost.
Not caring who sees me, I give it my best effort and launch the rolled-up paper ball straight at his chest.Got him.
No part of me expected a warm response from the guy, so his sneer doesn’t surprise me. But at least it got him to come back over here.
“Did you just shoot a spitball at me?” He throws a rag over his shoulder and leans forward to give me his undivided attention.
“Technically, there was no spit involved. But yes. It got your attention, didn’t it?” I grin, knowing full well he won’t return the gesture.
The bartender rolls his eyes. “Listen, lady?—”
