The Coffee Girl

Class finished in a blur the next day. Despite my previous thoughts that geology would suck big time, I was beginning to enjoy it. Unlike my other classes, this one seemed to go by fast and actually left me wanting to do my homework. A scary thing to say, but it was true.

I walked into Starbuck’s and threw my bag in the back room before grabbing an apron; this time making sure to tie it properly. Malcolm was back after his off-day and was being even more of an anal bastard than I remembered. With his hands behind his back and that smug air of entitlement plastered on his face, he walked around Rachel and I as we began setting up for our shift.

“You know, Malcolm,” Rachel began as she tied her apron, “all that scowling will give you premature wrinkles.” I shot her a smile and she bit her lip as she turned to look at our manager. If it was possible, he seemed to be scowling even more and I could see what Rachel was talking about. Cracks and cresses had formed on his face, too many for a regular 25 year old.

“Just do your work,” he snapped back then retired to the back room for some supplies. I watched him leave, shaking my head at how Rachel could pull something like that off.

“He’ll warm up to us eventually,” Rachel said once I turned back around to face her.

“It’s been a year, Ray,” I let out an airy laugh, “I think that ship has sailed.” The two of us continued laughing and talking about possible ways to get Malcolm fired without him knowing it was us. Today was a slower day, not as many customers had bombarded us, leaving Rachel and I with enough time to take a breath before making the coffees.

“Oh, crap,” Rachel mumbled as she reached her arms as far behind her back as they could go. I turned to her, confused. “My apron string ripped off. I swear it was Malcolm. He’s probably trying to teach me a lesson.” Her lips became a thin line as she moved towards the back room. “Can you take the next customer for me?”

I nodded and turned back to the cash. The thought of what Rachel would possibly say to him while they were alone in the back room made me unwillingly smile.

“You have a nice smile.”

I snapped my head up over the counter to see Patrick leaning on his elbows, pushing himself closer towards me. For a moment, I was lost for words. I thought the whole hitting on me thing was just a onetime deal. Two days in a row? This was definitely something out of a cheesy movie.

“Uh—thanks.” I looked down at the register, making sure everything was in order and trying to hide the awkward expression that had most definitely formed on my face. I couldn’t believe I was actually feeling uncomfortable at him telling me I had a nice smile. Other girls would have probably killed to be in my position. “What can I get you?”

The side of his lips went up in a smile. “What do you like from the menu?”

I licked my lips and looked up at the board above me. “The strawberry frappachino is pretty good.”

“Okay,” he said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet, “I’ll have that.”

I furrowed my brow for a minute. “Are you sure?” Weren’t hockey players supposed to be on a strict diet? I wasn’t going to lie, strawberry fraps were delicious, but definitely not a healthy choice.

He shrugged. “If you say it’s good then I believe you.” He pulled out his credit card and handed it to me. I took it hesitatingly then swiped it and had him put in his pin. I then moved over to the sink and began making the drink. The entire time I could feel his eyes on me, making it difficult to concentrate. Was it strawberries first, or the ice? After I finished I slid it towards him with a timid smile.

“I hope you like it,” I said with a slight laugh.

Patrick smiled. “I’m sure I will.” His hand brushed against mine as he took the drink and left. I watched through the windows as his broad form hopped across the street and out of view.

“What was that about?” Rachel asked, making me jump. I turned to look at her. She now had on a new apron and a perplexed look on her face as she stared at me then out the window in the direction I was gaping at.

“I was just talking to Patrick Kane,” I said, cocking my thumb over my shoulder in the direction he left from. Disbelief was evident in my voice.

She shrugged. “Don’t know who that is.”

“The hockey player?” I said and she looked oblivious. “The one on the Blackhawks?” It still didn’t seem to register. “Chicago’s team?”

“Oh,” she said with a small nod though I could tell she still didn’t know who I was talking about. “So, what did he want?”

I licked my lips as I wiped down the counter. “He was hitting on me. The second day he’s come here. It’s really weird.” I bit my bottom lip and thought it all over. “I mean—two days ago I had never seen one of the players near here and now he’s coming every day.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Rachel said, leaning back against the counter casually.

I shrugged. “It’s not bad. It’s just...weird.”

☼☼☼☼☼☼

“What time do you get off?” Patrick asked, leaning forward on the counter as I fixed a drink that I didn’t even know was on the menu. It had been a week since our first encounter and he had come every day, throwing me subtle hints and gestures. Today, however, he had decided to step it up. I really hated confrontations like this. Having to actually tell him I wasn’t interested was so much harder than just laughing off whatever compliment he gave me and going about my day.

“Uh, 9,” I replied. Rachel’s presence was obvious behind me, her curious eyes boring into my back as I talked to Patrick.

He smiled. “Do you wanna do something?”

I sighed and licked my lips. “Look, Patrick,” I began, “you’re a funny guy. You’ve actually been the only entertaining thing all week.” He let out a laugh and dropped his head. “But, you’ve ordered almost every drink on the menu. And I don’t—I mean, I’m not...”

“Calli! Malcolm boomed from behind me. I let out an aggravated sigh and turned to him. Now, in the middle of rejecting Patrick Kane, he decides to enforce his authority?

“I’ll let you get back to work,” Patrick whispered, taking a sip of his drink. I nodded then turned to face a fuming Malcolm; his blonde hair looking even more oily under the fluorescent lights. Rachel bobbed her head over his shoulder to look at me, an expression of worry clouding her features.

☼☼☼☼☼☼

Mopping the entire store and cleaning all of the windows. That was my punishment for—what?—interacting with customers? Actually, according to Malcolm, it was because I had been interacting with this specific customer every day. I grumbled every curse I could think of under my breath as Malcolm stood behind the counter watching me, my arms becoming soar from moving with the mop back and forth.

“I think you missed a spot,” He called over to me, pointing to a small corner near the front door.

“Shut up, Malcolm,” Rachel snapped back. This seemed to halt his criticism for a bit because he scowled and stalked off to the back room. I looked over at Rachel and gave her and thankful smile before moving the mop and giant tub of water to the door.

I pushed through chairs and under tables, trying to finish as fast as I could. Without me at the cash Rachel already had her hands full with the customers that had come in. And, of course, Malcolm wasn’t going to help her, so it was up to me. I gave her a swift nod, signalling that I would be done soon, and then finished up the last of the mopping.

I plunged the mop back into the tub of water when two feet appeared on the spot I had just cleaned. Another annoyed grumble escaped my chest as I trailed up the body to meet the face of the person delaying me.

“Are you Calli?” His low voice asked as his hands slid into the pockets of his sweater. He was tall, and muscular. Too much so for a regular person. His light brown hair glistened under the fluorescent lights with what seemed to be sweat. Like with Patrick Kane, I knew who this was. I just didn’t know what I had done to bring out every hockey player in Chicago.

I nodded, speechless that Jonathan Toews was standing in front of me, on my freshly mopped floor, asking for my name. Unlike Patrick, there was no childlike smile or playful eyes staring down at me. He was serious. The red tinge of his cheeks from the slightly chilly weather made him look angry.

He looked over his shoulder at Rachel who was gawking at us, neglecting the customer in front of her. Grabbing me gently by the elbow, he pulled me over to a more desolate spot in the coffee shop, making me leave the mop against the wall.

“Whatever you’re doing, just stop.” His voice was low, but the anger and frustration he felt towards me was evident. The only question was: Why was he angry and frustrated? Before today I had never met him or even seen him walking down the street for that matter. He was talking to me as though he had known me for years.

“Whut?”

He looked over his shoulder again then turned back to me whilst licking his lips. His arm fell from my elbow and returned to his sweater pocket. “With Patrick. Whatever you’re doing to him, just...don’t.”

I furrowed my brow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jonathan sighed and looked down at me as though expecting me to say that. “Look, I get it,” I don’t think you do. “He’s a famous hockey player and you’re the coffee girl that wants her fifteen minutes of fame.” My mouth fell slightly open. He didn’t even know me and yet he thought he could just analyze me like that. “Just stop jerking him around because you think it’s fun.” His lips were pressed into a thin line and his dark eyes blazed down at me.

“I haven’t done anything,” I argued, moving a few steps back so that we were out of hearing range of Rachel and—God forbid—Malcolm.

Jonathan clenched his jaw menacingly. “Kaner’s been here for the past week. He’s shown up late to practices and has gained at least 10 pounds in whatever crap you guys serve here.” Again, he looked over his shoulder and I wished that Rachel would stop staring at us. By the tension in his broad shoulders, I could tell she was making Jonathan nervous which, in turn, made him more aggressive. “Just stop batting your eyelashes and pushing up your boobs every time he comes in here.” I looked down at the dark polo shirt I wore, wondering how exactly he thought I could make that look seductive.

I licked my lips. “I’m not the one playing with him,” I said, “He’s been coming in here since last Monday, hitting on me and ordering drinks that I’ve never heard of. If there’s anyone you should be telling to stop, it’s him. It’s obviously not working when I do it.” With that I folded my arms over my chest, triumphant in making my point clear.

Jonathan rolled his jaw and stared down at me. I kept my gaze firm and strong on him. Just because he was the captain of the Blackhawks he thought he could tell anyone what to do? I was already being pushed and pulled around by Malcolm; I wasn’t going to let it happen with someone I didn’t even know.

He rubbed the back of his neck, the sweater he wore riding up a bit to reveal his stomach, before giving me one last aggravated look then walking back out of the store. I let out a sigh and shot my gaze to Rachel who was having a difficult time talking to the customer and trying to eavesdrop on me and Jonathan. Sparing her anymore stress, I put away the mop and bucket and moved back to the counter where I was prepared to tell her about everything that had just happened.