She glared at me, her eyes laced with disgust as she pursed her lips, making her face look like a shriveled fruit. "Who actually drinks just plain coffee anymore?"
“You’re looking at her,” I replied like a dork. “Puts the hair on my chest.”
"Most of the world does," Duke added. "All of these fancy drinks that people throw their money away on are just like melted ice cream. If nothing we offer impresses you, maybe you should just take a look somewhere else? Couple of coffee shops down the block." He shrugged. So subtle, so smooth. This guy was brilliant.
She squinted her eyes and tilted her head in that condescending way.
“Why do you work in a coffee shop, stupid, if you don’t have anything good to say about the drinks you make?”
Now she was trying to humiliate him for working in a coffee shop like it made him lame or lowly or something she disapproved of. She probably didn’t even have a job. I wasn’t going to let her demean my fake co-worker.
“He owns it actually,” I piped up. “A whole chain of them, in fact. He’s just here for a reality show they’re filming later about 30 under 30.” I toweled off the milk steamer as nonchalantly as possible.
“God, you’re both so rude!” she scoffed.
"Who's being rude? You don't want what we can currently offer, so I'm suggesting you spend your money in an establishment that can cater to your particular needs. I think that’s more than fair, don’t you…Maddy?" He looked at me for approval. I nodded enthusiastically with a huge smile on my face.
She didn't say another word, just flipped her hair and pushed against the crowd of people, making a scene more befitting of a toddler.
Duke smiled, turning to me. "Some people think the sun sets and rises on their ass. I bet she hasn't changed a bit since high school."
He took orders for over an hour until we got the line down. I was amazed by his efficiency, his innate ability to say the right thing to soothe over all the tempers.
“We did it!” I told him. “The rush is officially over.”
As soon as I said it, a group of six people walked through the door.
He walked past me and grabbed the broom. "You take care of these nice people, and I'll do the grunt work."
"Wow! Okay. Whatever you say, boss,” I told him.
“You’re quick on your feet, I’ll give you that much. Where’d an innocent looking girl like you learn to lie like that?” He raised an eyebrow at me and cracked a sort of half smile.
“Oh you know, here and there. But now that you’re in charge, I’d like a raise or else I’m putting in my two weeks tomorrow,” I said slyly. I had a poker face and I could tell he didn’t quite know what to think of me.
“We make a good team—”
He turned to look at my nametag again. I pushed my shoulder back and puffed my chest out so that he could see it better.
“Maddy,” he said, shaking his head as he swept. “Maddy, how could I forget that.”
“Right, it’s what you said at my interview. The very reason you hired me,” I said and turned to take the next customer.
Time went by much more smoothly after Duke stepped up to help. A complete stranger not only got behind the counter, but worked his butt off to get me through my shift in one piece. He must have rearranged his whole day just to help me. His selfless gesture restored my faith in the idea that not all guys in this world were assholes. Looking at him, you'd never assume he'd be the kind of guy that would do such a thing. Like if I were shown a lineup of all the Perks customers that day, and asked who would step up to help me in an emergency, I probably would have picked one of those mean girls. Hot tattoo guy would have been far down on my list of coffee shop heroes—maybe even last. He looked more like a reckless badass than a good Samaritan. Most likely to make girls faint, not most likely to haul the used coffee grounds out to the dumpster. I couldn't help stealing glances at him throughout the day. He was an anomaly behind the Perks counter. Bulging arms, covered in myriad tattoos that seemed to tell a story. This guy had spent more time getting inked than I had pulling coffees.
"Well, that's the last of them," I said. “Thank fuck!” I locked the glass door behind the last customer leaving, but it didn’t stop two others from running up and looking like sad puppies. “Dunkin,” I mouthed to them, pointing in the direction of the store. I was taking tips from Duke, our newest hire unbeknownst to the managers or anyone in HR. Larry, the owner, would have killed me, but I was happy to send customers our competitors' way. I wiped my hands on my apron and turned the sign on the door to “closed.”