Coffee Shop Soundtrack

“Frank! Where's that coffee that woman ordered ten minutes ago?!” My manager, Bob, screamed at me. I didn't fucking know. Despite the fact I adored it, I knew fuck all about coffee. Especially the coffee here. Everyone who walked into this Goddamn shop seemed to want anything but coffee. They wanted a frappa-mocha-ccino, or whatever the hell you call them. What happened to just plain coffee? Since when did people feel the need to mix raspberries and coffee? You tell me that, because I sure as hell cannot figure it out.

I had only got the job here because Bob was one of my closest friends. I was attempting to make my way through community college, as well as singing and playing in a band. I needed the money, and needless to say, I couldn't get a job anywhere else. I couldn't even make coffee, honestly, what hope did I have? At least he couldn't fire me, or wouldn't fire me.
“I, ugh, she has it!” I pointed to one of my co-workers who was currently filling up a coffee cup. She looked very unamused. I ducked behind the counter.

Did I mention I'm short? Yeah, well I am. I'm also weak, and I can't run fast to save my life. Bob, on the other hand. Well, let's just say, if you looked up “Muscle” in the dictionary, I can guarantee you that Bob's name is there. And this is why Bob is able to pull my up from under the desk, using only one hand. Granted, it wasn't my best hiding place. But still.

He led me to the back of the shop, where no one could see us.
“Look, I gave you this job 'cause I knew you needed it. But you gotta do something, dude. I can't keep you working at a coffee shop if you can't fuckin' make coffee. Understand?”
He looked tired, and worn out. I knew he was at his wits end, and this was one of my last last chances.
“Okay, okay. I'll try harder, I swear. I'll practice making coffee or something. I'll get better, promise.”
“Good, now go work,” he gestures towards the counter, a bored look on his face.
“Thanks, Bobbert!” I skip away, happy knowing I still had a job. No doubt I'd mess up again, but at least this time I'd mess up because I was actually trying to work. Instead of standing in a corner with a vacant look on my face. Somehow managing to knock something over, being my clumsy self.
“You're fired if you call me that again!” Bob calls back, gruffly.
“Yeah, whatever, Bobbert!” He'd get me for that later, I was sure of it.

I tighten my apron -yes, he makes me wear an apron- and get ready to work. I was going to prove I could work. The bell on the door rang to signal that a customer had walked in. I approached the counter, ready and waiting to serve them, like the good little employee that I am.
“Hi, can I get you anything?” I fumble with the loose tie on my apron, it had managed to somehow come undone and tangle itself. Not a good start to my new work attitude, I wasn't even looking at the customer. “S-sorry, this thing's stuck.” I fiddled with the knot, eventually fixing it. “There, now, what can I get you?” I look up to find a boy who was around his early-twenties smiling widely at me, and my heart races. The first thing I noticed were his unusually small teeth, but they just made his already stunning smile look more gorgeous. His eyes were a hazel color, but shone amber in the lights. He had very pale skin, not unlike mine, and jet black scruffy hair. I also caught a glimpse of an Iron Maiden shirt. I liked this guy, I liked him a lot.
“Um, yeah. Just coffee please. None of that cream stuff, though, just coffee. Thanks.” He smiles shyly, and hands me a few dollars. I nod, still completely dumb struck by his beauty.

I had to get this right. I'd die inside if I messed this up, especially since the coffee was for him. I stare blankly at the metal contraption in front of me. How the fuck do I work this?
“I've got one ready, Frank, never mind!” Jenny, the employee who I'd -sort of- blamed for my failure earlier, hands the boy a coffee, grinning.
“I uh, gave my money to...Frank, is it?” He explains, nodding over to me. I could have sworn he smiled at me. But maybe that was just my imagination.
“I wasn't planning on charging you anyway.” Jenny smirked. Bitch, bitch, bitch. She was flirting with him. Admittedly, she probably has a much much bigger chance than me, he might not even like guys. Still, I'd beg Bob to fire her later.

He let out a nervous laugh, taking the coffee from her and scurrying over to a table.
“He obviously likes you, huh?”
She glared at me. Jenny had this sort of death glare that scared the shit out of everyone. I'd even admit, it wasn't a pretty sight. “Oh, fuck off, Frank. Just 'cause you like him and you've obviously got no chance whatsoever.”
I stuck my tongue out, turning back to the coffee machine. I was never going to be able to work this thing.

The clock read 8:45pm, it was dark outside, due to the fact it was winter. I was sure it was almost closing time. The only people in the shop were a couple sitting at a far away table, and the boy that had come in at about four o'clock this afternoon. I'd been watching him all day. He'd sat, sipping coffee, and scribbling into what looked like a notebook. His only interruption had been Jenny waltzing over, attempting to flirt and get his number. She had failed miserably, which pleased me very much.
“I never liked him anyway, his hair needs a good wash,” was her only comment before returning to work. Yeah, right.

The couple got up and left, leaving only him left. As well as Bob and I, Bob always stayed late to lock up.
“Frank, can you tell that guy it's almost closing time, I gotta lock up.” Bob called from the back, a set of keys dangling from his fingers. I had an idea. No guarantee it was going to work. I'm not the type of worker who enjoys staying late, but I'll make exceptions for this one time. After all, I need the training, don't I? The gorgeous guy sitting in the corner would just be a bonus.
“Hey, you want me to lock up? I've still gotta wash some stuff, and I can maybe try and work out this machine while I'm at it.” I look at him hopefully. Maybe if I looked really innocent he'd let me stay.
“I don't know.. What if you burn the place down?” Many people would think this was a joke. Nope. Bob was deadly serious. This is how clumsy I am. Okay, I've never burnt anything down, but God knows what I'm capable of.
“I won't, Bob.”
He sighs, defeated. “Fine! Fine! God, Frank, the things I do for you!”
I smirk. “It's 'cause you love me. Now beat it! I want to talk to- I mean, I want to try and figure out that machine before I drop dead, if you don't mind.” I slap his butt, and he grumbles to himself. Bob hates me acting that way, because I'm the only one that knows under all that muscular exterior, he's a big softy. I wait until he's got his coat and out of the door before moving.
“I mean it Frank,” he says, poking his head through the door on his way out “If I come back tomorrow and this place is just a pile of rubble, you are so fucking dead.”

The boy sitting in the corner looks up, a playful smile on his face. “I'll make sure he doesn't burn anything... Or smash the place.” He calls to Bob, almost giggling. I loved his voice, his accent wasn't too thick, and his words were soft, but it was the kind of voice you wanted to listen to. Not a drone in your ears, it kept you interested. Like he could talk about the most boring thing in the world, and make it as interesting as Mickey Mouse riding a llama through the desert. Yes, I'm a kid at heart who loves Mickey Mouse, sue me.
“Thank you, but you do not know what that boy is capable of.” Bob closes the door, marching down the street, the cold night air whipping against his face. Leaving just the boy and I alone in the shop. Now was my chance.