His smile broadened, and he winked at me. "Let's just say I'm good with both my hands and with people. And I’ve fixed an espresso machine before, believe it or not."
I eyed him up and down taking in the tattoos and the denim, his black chunky soled shoes, his hair that was shaved all the way around but left long and wavy at the top. Maybe he’d been a barista in a cool city like L.A. or New York. I reluctantly nodded my head in agreement. It wasn’t like I had a choice. Either outcome would leave me axed first thing in the morning.
He jumped behind the counter, hair flopping as he moved to the cash register with ease.
"What can I get for you?" he asked the lady in the suit. She smiled again, smoothing her hair behind her ear before she leaned over the counter, accentuating her large breasts. I inwardly rolled my eyes as I pulled the line of drip coffees that were lined up on the receipts in front of me. When I glanced over at my tattoo-covered helper his eyes hadn’t moved from her face once. He was pretending to care and it was working. He just gave her a polite smile which I recognized as a proper customer service smile. He’d done this, or an equally shitty job like it, before.
The next customer who approached lit up like she knew him.
"What can I get you, Polly?"
“Hi, Duke. I didn’t know you worked here?” the woman gushed. This guy was some kind of ladies’ man. I knew the type. Grown women turn to butter and melt at his feet. Bat their eyelashes shamelessly. I got it, he was hot. But I had some dignity.
Polly turned her head and looked at me severely, her icy eyes suddenly falling colder as they scanned from me to him. "I just wanted a Chai Latte. Maddy already knows my drink, but she made me an iced coffee."
“We can do a chai for you. I got it today, Polly. You get me on the next time around. Sorry for the mix up.”
“Thank you, Duke. You always were so well mannered.”
I watched their exchange in fascination. “Duke,” as she called him, already looked more comfortable in his role than me and I was the one who’d worked here way longer than I’d ever set out to. I bet he couldn’t swing that charm with harried business guys. Those financiers were always chasing away a hangover and not enough sleep.
An especially ornery one approached and I felt kind of giddy to witness the epic fail that was coming.
Finance guy, in the custom tailored suit, eyes gorgeous and tall tattoo guy with disdain. Probably the same way he looks at every person who isn’t his superior at the firm. I wonder if he looks at his wife like that and it’s precisely why she doesn’t make him coffee in the morning.
“Triple shot Cortado,” I mouthed as he demanded it from my new spontaneous customer turned co-worker. No ‘please,’ no ‘thank you.’ The guy was a tool. He didn’t order the same every day, but I knew his favorites and could usually tell what he was going to order based on his arrival time. He never tipped and he drove a BMW.
"Well, there's always Dunkin' Donuts around the corner," he told the finance guy. His tone was measured and controlled. He knew finance guy thought he was better than him and there was almost a threat in his suggestion. Finance guy didn’t like the young and free who were more attractive than him. Duke focused his eyes above finance guy’s head, like he didn’t even care to hear his reaction. God, he was good.
"Espresso machine here is broken, so if you're looking for one of those fancy drinks, you’re shit outta luck," he said to the crowd
“Dunkin Donuts coffee tastes like dishwater,” finance guy protested. He looked at me for support and I shrugged, secretly thrilled that I could finally deny this jerk his caffeine rush.
Half of them walked out, mumbling under their breath, but a few stayed in line behind finance guy, mostly the pretty girls and I wasn’t surprised. Finance guy, still in shock, turned and walked out, likely appalled that we couldn’t make his desires materialize out of thin air.
"I guess I'll have whatever you recommend," the first pretty girl purred.
The Adonis turned to me, "What do you recommend? What’s your specialty, uh Maddy?"
He smiled so charmingly, casually glancing at my name tag to remind himself of my name.
"I can make you a hot tea," I offered. I knew she probably wouldn’t want it. But I thought it might appeal more to her than our crack-level, battery acid sharp, drip coffee which I drank by the gallon. She’d want something sweet and probably thought herself too feminine for drip. “Chamomile, or one of the fruity ones? Passion fruit, maybe?