COFFEE GIRL

by aggie23FF

Chapter One

"C'mon, Cleo, the drinks are getting cold, " Sabrina's voice came to my attentive ears in a low murmur while I emptied my tray and deposited the dirty cups and plates in the large basin behind the bar.

Saturday afternoons were the busiest day of the week. Despite I'd warned Tim, the thirty-something year old owner of the coffee shop located in the center of Los Angeles, about it he'd deliberately chose to ignore my words. According to him, the place wasn't big enough to hire a second waitress for the afternoon shifts.

So now here I was, taking orders from more than ten tables at the same time and making sure I didn't mess up any of them.

Why have I kept this job? The tips were kind of amazing.

Located in Atwater Village, Dude's coffee and desserts bar had a constant flow of clients coming along at all hours of the day; also the fact that it was sort of a posh neighborhood meant the clients usually left generous tips.

"If Tim comes here and sees all these orders on the bar, he's gonna freak out," she kept on talking while I ignored her.

I knew she wasn't trying to be patronizing, but sometimes, she came out just like that. Working behind the bar as the main barista gave her some sort of status here and me, being the newest employee, had no saying in almost anything. Even the cashier, a high school senior year girl with her nose pierced and straight hair dyed blue, got more attention than me.

Swallowing my own words, I walked around the bar and pointed at the two trays on my right. "Table?"

"Five and seven." She said nodding her ridiculous large head towards one of the tables and booths. " Remember that, Cleo. What's wrong with you today?"

She was right in asking that. The day had started off, to say the least, hectic. I'd stayed late helping dad editing his latest video on plastic surgeries going bad -a complete crap-, then I had to finish one pending paper for my nonfiction class and, finally, I spent more than forty-five minutes trying to think of a title for my latest blog post. By the time I'd decided to hit the bed, the sun was already breaking through the cloudy horizon and slipping between the cracks of the blinds inside my bedroom. Helping dad was not supposed to take me more than a couple of hours a week, but since we moved back to L.A one year ago and he started taking on these crappy works; he was having a difficult time finding inspiration. How could I blame him though? How was editing stupid reality shows more interesting than filming documentaries about Latin America villages?

I'd be as bummered as he was.

"I'm fine," I replied when I realized Sabrina was still waiting for an answer. I avoided her almond shaped eyes from the other side of the bar.

"Order for table three." Aaron, the cook called through the kitchen service hatch, tapped on the golden bell that made the distinctive ding! and deposited two plates one of each with a large sweet stuffed crepês. The perfume of vanilla and strawberries filled the air around us, mixing with the freshly made coffees that awaited to be served.

"I'll take these and come back for those," I told him and Sabrina as I managed to balance both trays in my hands. I marched towards the waiting customers.

I knew she hadn't believed me, I could still sense her gaze fixed on me, trying to read a sign or something that told her otherwise. But I was a good liar, I could pretend aloofness even though my insides clenched with anger; I refused to let my personal problems interfere with work, no matter what a shitty job this was.

Sighing, I made my way towards the booth where four ladies in their mid-fifties chattered away like crazy parrots making little sense to my ears.

"Two dairy-free milkshakes, a caramel macchiato and a regular black coffee for you, ladies," I announced depositing the four orders, one in front of each of them.

"Thank you," one of them said, giving me a faint smile as I did the same. "Don't forget the macarons."

"They are on their way." Giving her a friendly wink I walked backwards, my grin attached to my lips to hide the nerve wrecking sensation that awaken inside me when I realized I might have forgotten to prepare their stuff.

Losing no time, I almost hurled to table three, where two girls in their mid twenties, a year or two older than me, talked in hushed voices. When I got there, they immediately went silent.

"Two decaf and two blueberry muffins, here you go. Enjoy!"

I was not surprised by their impassive faces. You see, L.A was not precisely inhabited by the merriest people on earth. In fact, I was pretty sure such people lived in a small city called Salta, in the north of Argentina where my parents and I spent an entire week living in our motorhome while dad finished shooting a part for his documentary.

Paying no attention to the two girls, I went back to the bar praying there were still fresh macarons for the other table.

To my dismay, Sabrina was waiting for me with another order and a smug grin on her face.

"What?" I asked with my eyes huge and a tag of apprehension twisting my guts.

"You forgot the macarons, you goof." She rolled her eyes, not precisely amused by my lack of attention today. "You were lucky. These are the last ones. Really, what's gotten into you today?"

"Thanks." I ignored her question and, in a swift move, retrieved the small cream pink blush plate where half of a dozen macarons waited to be served. With the inertia force , almost all the French pastries went flying and crashing against the floor, making me gasp and hold onto them like my whole life depended on them.

"For the love of God, Cleo..."

Ignoring Sabrina's reprimand, I marched towards the table and deposited the plate on the table where the three ladies kept on chatting, paying little attention to my presence.

That's how my day progressed as the clock hands moved slowly and the minutes went by.

I took an order, collected a previous one, got a new customer, delivered the drinks and retrieved what I'd forgotten in the bar.

One could say it could be worse, that I could be spilling hot coffee on someone's shirt, but trust me on this one, that was not a possibility. I could not afford to lose this job, especially on such a stupid mistake.

The workload subsided barely, which kept me busy at least. I had no breaks, but taking the opportunity when there were no new clients entering the shop, I could lean against the bar and catch my breath.

"What's up, Curly Sue?" Aaron asked from behind the kitchen service hatch with laughter hidden in his voice.

I rolled my eyes at the nickname he used. It had been almost a year since I worked here and not one single time he'd called me by my name. Instead he'd decided it'd be funnier to mock me because of the buoyant loops of curls that hung messily from my head.

"Nothing's up, you bonehead." I had no interest in using any of his physical traits to mock him, instead I simply appealed to his idiocy.

As usual, he chuckled and winked at Sabrina who, unlikely was, looked annoyed standing between us.

"New client, Cleo," she only said when the front door opened and the tiny bell that dangled on top of it chimed.

"Got it."

A man lingered casually at the entrance with his hands in the front pocket of his grey jeans, an immaculate white T-shirt hugging his fitted upper body, hidden beneath a jacket. I couldn't help to notice the soft strands of messy honey hair or the sharp, masculine jawline. He shouldn't be much older than me, probably in his late twenties, but he exuded a mature air that didn't match his age. I watched him while he looked around for a table to take, until his eyes met mine across the distance and something tugged at my belly, shaking me like an earthquake.

Only from afar, I could see the kindness that radiated from them, yet a faint mischievous glimmer reached them as he gave me a subtle smile that lighted up his face.

Good Lord, have mercy on my soul.

I hadn't feel that in a long time.

Obviously amused by my lack of reaction, Aaron laughed behind me. "Are you gonna get that, Curly Sue, or what?" he asked.

"Shut up," I muttered under my breath and prayed for the man not to notice my recently flushed cheeks.

I noticed my knees going slightly weak as I approached him, even my heart beated faster against my ribcage.

Unbelievable, I thought, what a hot body and a pair of pretty eyes can do to me.

"Welcome to Dude's café. Table for one?" I asked when I finally faced him. Surprisingly, my voice didn't falter and my smile attached to my lips like it always did.

"Two, please," he said mirroring my exact expression.

As I stood nearer than the first time, I noticed his gaze was every shade of brown I could possibly imagine- and I'd seen a lots of it-, a swirl of raw umber and caramel that made my blood turn into hot lava in my veins.

I catched myself staring at him, remembering the earthy dry mountains from Peru, the variety of colors of the soil as Dad, Mum, and I travelled north across the continent.

"Y-yes, of course." I wanted to smack my own head. "There's a nice spot over here."

The booth where I guided him was slightly separated from the rest. Against one of the rectangular windows, its view faced north so it was the perfect space to occupy. Not too hot during summer and definitely not cold in winter.

"Can I get you anything while you wait?" I asked him, retrieving the iPad from the front pocket of my black apron.

"Water is fine. We'll order when she gets here," he replied with the same warm smile he'd given me earlier.

My hands started to transpire at the sight before me.

She.

Of course there was a 'she'; he was cute and seemed like a kind man.

"No prob. Let me know when you're ready."

I returned to the bar, my curls bouncing as I walked across the smooth tiled floor feeling like a total fool.

Staring at a customer, really, Cleo? He must have thought I was a total creep.

"Nice show, Curly Sue." Aaron seemed to be having a blast. His cheeks were colored red, his eyes shone with mischievousness.

"Glad you enjoyed it."

In a rush of self-consciousness, I collected my wild curls in a high ponytail. The skin behind my neck was sweating beneath them after the ridiculous show I'd put for the entire café.

"Can I have a glass of water for table nine?" I asked pretending to fix my hair when it was actually perfect.

"You mean for Mr. Starry eyed?" Aaron mocked once more, still he lost no time and fetched the water.

"What are you? Five?" With the order on my tray, I turned and walked towards the earthy-eyed man faking confidence with every step I took towards him.

I had no idea what was going on with me.

As I approached him, I noticed his gaze on me, his smile slightly wider than moments ago.

"Here you go," I said placing the movie theme coaster and glass before him.

"Thanks." To my surprise, he took the coaster and let out a low chuckle. "Do you guys use auto referential coasters here?"

"Um, what?" Not getting what he meant I leaned forward just barely to see what he was talking about and what I saw made my cheeks burn.

Olivia Newton-John as the cool transformed Sandy, from Grease, smiled at me from the round paperboard coaster.

Aaron, you asshole.

"But she's blonde," I replied, pushing away the increasing embarrassment that made my hands sweat.

The man shrugged, his eyes sparkling with laughter.

"It's only a technicality."

I bit the inside of my cheek fighting the impulse to smile.

Sandy was kinda hot.

"Let me know when you're ready to order."

Back in the bar, Aaron gave me a cheeky wink, which I pretended to ignore as I disposed the dirty dishes and paper napkins.

The typical afternoon hustle gave me little time to appease my edginess. Not long after the girl who the man in booth nine was expecting, most of the customers asked for the check and new ones arrived like an avalanche of thirty wanderers. Again the debacle begun.

In moments like this, I doubted my ability to multitasking. Not because I was unable to execute several things at the same time, but because waitressing after several hours caused my mind to disconnect. Repetition over and over again was not something I was used to, not on a regular basis at least.

"I'm sorry for the delay this afternoon," I apologized to the man and his date, a woman my age with black silky hair that framed her round face. "Are you ready to order?"

"Sure. One coffee latte for me and a mocha for the lady here. No dairy for her." He winked at her and then asked. "And an extra large peanut butter muffin?"

"Yes." She returned the flirting by batting her eyelashes.

"Alright, one of those and a chocolate chips muffin for me."

"Perfect." Tapping the options on the iPhone, I took their order feeling slightly distracted by the old lady who was still standing near the door looking for a table. "I'll be right back with your order."

I heard the man whisper a 'no worries', but I didn't look back. He was on a date and I had other things to focus.

After locating the old lady in a table near the exit, I cleaned two tables and took the drinks to another one. One of them complained. The coffee was cold.

Excusing myself, I took the cold drink and asked Sabrina for another one, who got down to work but let out a scoff that reached my ears. "Don't let the drinks get cold next time."

I snorted. Another four bucks thrown to the trash. If I kept on messing orders like that I was going to lose half of my tips today.

"Okay, here you go," she said leaving the cup on my tray. "That's the last order."

"Great."

My tray was heavy as I carried it towards several tables, I left a teapot and sugar biscuits, the new hot coffee and, at last, the order for the merry couple who was chatting as I approached them.

"Okay, here's your order," I said placing the cups and the two extra large muffins before them. "Dairy free mocha and a latte. And your peanut butter and chocolate chip muffins. Enjoy!"

When I returned to the bar, I let out a deep breath as I realized that finally, all the tables had their orders.

Making the best out of my free time, I rearranged the paper napkins for the customers to come and polished almost a dozen of glasses for the night shift waitress.

Several minutes passed in tranquil silence, except for the usual chats that filled the air around me. However, a loud voice made me cringe.

"Oh, my god!" A woman cried, standing up dragging the chair backwards as she stood up and looked around. Her eyes, huge and watery, searched for someone to help her. "Is there a doctor here?" she screamed again.

I didn't recognized the woman at first but then, when I saw where she was, a hot liquid ran through my veins, making my dizzy.

It was booth number nine.

I rushed around the bar in the direction to the main lounge, where several people were standing up by now as they watched the woman fish her phone from her purse. Then my gaze went to the seat where the man sat. What I saw made my heart bounce in my chest.

His face looked different, like he'd received several punches but no bruises formed on his skin. His nose was a different shape, swollen on the tip, just like his mouth where his lips seemed to have been stuffed with botox, but only worst. Around his eyes, his flesh was bloated and slightly reddened, creating two lines instead of showing his gentle gaze.

"Wh-what's going on?" I managed to ask when I finally reached them. The turmoil increased around me as the people expressed their concern and ourtage, minding little to show politeness.

'It was food poisoning.'

'The waitress mixed the orders.'

'Can you believe this? Why hasn't anyone called an ambulance?'

They couldn't be right. I'd mixed the orders? He was allergic? My flesh felt as hot as a burning coal, my throat closing around the words I couldn't say as I watched the misshapen angles in his one-minute-ago gorgeous face.

"You gave him a peanut butter muffin!" the woman hissed, his phone was glued to her ear as she waited until 911 picked up the call. "Bring him ice or something! Hello, this is an emergency..."

Ice wouldn't do a thing. I learned that after my mum had an severe reaction to peanut during our short visit to Chile.

Losing no time, I went to the man, whose breathing was heavy and whistling while no one else did a thing except watch. Behind me, the woman talked over the phone with an emergency operator.

"Are you allergic to peanut?" I asked touching his chest to feel her heartbeat. The thumps were faster than they should be. His skin was glistening in sweat, random spots had turned crimson.

He nodded.

"Do you have your shot with you? The epinephrine? Do you have an emergency contact?"

I saw his eyes moving beneath the bloated flesh and I understood he was unable to answer all my questions. "Oh, shit." My gaze rose for a moment as I searched for a familiar face, someone looking confident enough to help me. Sabrina stood a few feet away next to Aaron; both of them unable to move, only watch the scene with terror clouding their eyes.

"I am going to check inside your pockets, okay?"

"What are you doing? Where's the ice?" the woman shrieked when she saw me inspecting his pockets and jacket.

"Ice won't work. Does he have a epinephrine shot somewhere?" I glanced at her direction, she clawed her phone tightly between her hands with a dreadful look on his pale face.

"What? I don't know! I just met him!"

The air escaped my body in loud, sharp breaths while I tried with all my strength not panic, not to be frozen by the little response I got from this man while I kept speaking to him, bringing him to conscience.

My hand buried inside one of the pockets of his jacket and, as it was a precious gem, it closed around a square-shaped leather case.

The voices around me wouldn't subside, but unlike minutes ago, I didn't catch what they said. I only regarded for the box that I held between my trembling fingers. Wasting no time, I opened it and found the self-injector.

"Dear God. " I had never applied one of those. Dad had done it the day Mum got this exact allergic reaction and I remembered watching him with dread and tears running down my cheeks. I couldn't afford to cry now. His lips were slowly turning blue.

I pulled the grey cap out of the device.

Then someone screamed something, though I only catched one word. Ambulance. Other voices blended with the distant sounds of a siren. I sharpened my ears, but the sound was still faint.

"They are coming," Aaron said by my side. It startled me to see him close, seriousness casting his gaze for the first time in months as he held my free arm.

My eyes moved to Aaron, then to the man. He didn't seem to be breathing.

My mind was blank with doubts. Was I supposed to leave him like this?

"Cleo - "

Without hesitation, I sunk the injectable pen in top of the man's outer thigh, right through his grey jeans and held it still for several seconds.

Sirens echoed in my ears causing a buzz in my head.

The ambulance was here before I was able to realize it; the front door swung open, steps approached me as two paramedics came by my side and one of them gently removed my still-as-a-rock body away from the man.

"Don't worry. We've got him from here."

In less than two minutes, they were gone through the same door they entered and the cafe shop emptied.

Then my chest tightened by the weight of reality, by the silence that fell around my like a fog; even by the mixture of worry and horror that casted Sabrina's stern face. And I knew this was my last day working at Dude's café.