Page 8 of Soulless Saint

“Because you know you would do the same for me if the situation was reversed. It’s not charity if it’s between friends.”

I cringed inwardly at the insinuation, even though I knew she didn’t mean it that way.

“Right.” I chewed my bottom lip, thinking about the not quite two hundred dollars left in my purse and how long it would last me between the nightly rate at the motel and food. Could I even afford a latte?

Before I could cave in and accept her help, I spotted the cafe I’d clocked the first time I walked this street yesterday.

“Any job prospects yet?”

The sign read Death before Decaf, and my heart leapt.

Just one latte. Then I’d use the shitty single cup brewer in the motel room from now on.

“Becca?”

“What?” I shook my head, trying to tune back into the phone conversation as I narrowly missed getting hit by a late model BMW while rushing across the street, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of a freshly pulled espresso shot and warm frothed milk as if I could taste it already.

“Have you had any job interviews?”

Right. The other part of living the broke girl life. I needed a job. Yesterday.

I’d scanned the wanted ads in the local paper that’d been placed outside my motel door like an actress out of a nineties movie, but there wasn’t much to find. The online ads had more options, but almost everything required either some kind of degree or a minimum X amount of years of experience. I had neither.

Thanks to my wealthy upbringing, I’d never worked a damn day in my life.

“Uh… there wasn’t much that I think I’d have a shot at, but I’m working on it.”

I stepped out of the way as a nauseatingly touchy couple stepped from the coffee shop hand in hand, nuzzling each other like they were cats instead of human beings.

The door swung closed behind them before I could grasp the handle.

“You’ll find something,” Ava Jade was saying on the other end of the call. “Just don’t give up.”

A flyer posted on the outside of the door caught my eye, and I stopped, my lips parting at the simple message printed in black serif on the otherwise simple slip of white paper.

Part-time Barista Position Available. Inquire Within.

“Actually, Aves, I do have an interview. Right now. Can I call you later?”

“You fucking better. And you’re coming to the Lodi show next month, right? We miss you.”

I nodded as though she could see me and then laughed at my space-cadet ass and strolled into the shop. “I’ll be there. Love you.”

“Love you.”

I hung up and dropped my phone back into my purse, taking in the coffee shop that looked huge from the outside but somehow managed to feel small once you were swallowed up inside it.

The brick walls were painted a flat black and artwork of several different, yet distinct types adorned them in each separate cozy little nook area of the long space. On closer inspection, it was obvious that each nook featured artwork by a different artist. Likely rotated out every few weeks or months.

A girl with curly blonde hair at the counter helped the couple of customers in line, while a guy with a shock of white hair and killer eyeliner frothed milk in a stainless steel pitcher at a monstrosity of an espresso machine down the line.

It put the little Rocket Apartamento machine I’d had installed back at Briar Hall to absolute shame.

I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it.

“Can I get you something?” the girl with the blonde hair called, finished with the other customers in line. She cocked her head at me curiously, taking in my Loro Piana and Stuart Weitzman boots, an envious but also leery expression creeping onto her heart-shaped face.

I swallowed, trying to channel my inner confidence, aka, my inner Ava Jade, as I strolled to the counter. “Hi, is the manager available?”

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