“Mars,” Dave greets, a wide grin on his face, when I enter his office just off the back door. “So glad you showed up. You’re already in the running for employee of the month.”
A woman with curly brown hair and a nice smile peeks inside. “Hey now. That’s my permanent spot.”
Dave waves her in. “Martina, this is the new guy, Mars McKinney. He’s a prior shithead like my brother, but he’s trying to get back on track.”
“Mars, huh? Like the planet?” she asks, offering me her hand. “Cute.”
“Thanks. Nice to meet you, too.”
We shake hands and Dave stands.
“She’ll show you how to run the register and the machines,” he says, gesturing at his door. “Haley works Mondays too. You two will relieve Martina. There’s not much to know about The Grind House except, when we’re dead, you can look at your phone or do homework, but when it gets slammed, you won’t have time for much of anything aside from pouring coffee.” He waves us away. “Go on and let her show you. We’ll catch up on the paperwork after the evening rush. Glad to have you on board, Mars.”
“Thanks, Dave,” I say with genuine gratitude.
Martina gives me a quick tour of the back and shows me where I can stow away my things. I opt to keep my hoodie on and accept a mustard yellow apron from her. We meet Haley—a pink-haired girl with zero personality—and then Martina shows me the machines. It’s all just a fancier version of Jimmy’s little diner. Minus the food and crotchety old people. And way better coffee.
As soon as Martina leaves, I saunter back over to Haley. She’s cute if you’re into girls who are less interesting than walls. The pink hair is severely misleading.
“Hey, Hay. How long have you been working here?”
She blinks at me. No smile. Nothing. “Three months.”
“You go to school here?”
More boring blinking. “Yep.”
“Ehhh, what’s your major?”
“Are you like going to talk the whole time because I’m trying to listen this podcast?” She points at where a small earbud sits inside her ear under a tuft of pink hair.
The door chimes and I jolt, thankful for the opportunity to talk to someone. Anyone.
“I’ll get this one,” I tell her and rush over to the register, eager for my first customer. At least here the patrons are my age, although Haley is about as interesting as Jimmy’s older and senile sister, Betty.
“The Grind House,” I bellow out, my big mouth carrying across the shop. “Good evening.”
The girl walking in with her head down, and shouldering a bag, stiffens at my greeting. She jerks her chin up, meeting my stare. Her eyes widen and her cheeks immediately turn pink. She opens her full pouty lips like she might say something, before bringing her knuckle to her lips in an almost nervous way.
“Do we give discounts for beautiful girls?” I ask Haley over my shoulder, never taking my eyes off my first customer.
“No,” Haley deadpans behind me.
The girl’s cheeks burn bright red, and now her ears are turning the same color beneath loose strands of coal black hair that have come loose from her messy bun. She blinks one, two, three times, but unlike Haley, this girl looks cute doing it. Like I’ve stunned her silent. I can’t help but grin at her, curling my finger and motioning her closer.
“Come a little closer, my pretty. I only bite when I get to know you.” I flash her a wicked grin, showing off all my teeth. “And we’ve only just met.”
Sage
My brain is in full-fledged panic mode. I glance over my shoulder to see if there’s someone behind me in line. There’s no one.
I stare at the tall and lean, but still muscular, guy behind the counter. God, he’s hot. Hot guys don’t talk to me though. I’m certain there’s a rule written down somewhere that says so.
A crooked grin hangs on his lips and his soft blue eyes nail me to my spot. My feet wouldn’t budge if someone lit a fire underneath them.
“Are you talking to…me?” My voice is just above a whisper, but he hears me somehow.
“You’re the only pretty girl in here,” he says. I feel his gaze tracing my features and my cheeks burn. I know my ears are bright pink. I feel them scorching.
“Rude,” I hear a girl mutter from behind the counter. My eyes lock on to her pink hair, and I finally find the muscle memory to swallow.
I know her. She doesn’t make my lattes like Martina, but at least she’s not a hot guy trying to turn me to ash with his stare. I decide to focus on her instead. I don’t even allow my eyes to look at the guy’s nametag.
I wiggle my fingers in the air to catch her attention. “Hi, um…can you make my usual?” I ask once she notices me. Her hands are full of mustard yellow mugs. She’s clearly busy but I need her to take my order. If she doesn’t I’ll be stuck with…him.