Page 91 of Loverboy
“I willnotpine for that man,” I say under my breath. “Pining is for losers.”
But he’s so pretty, my hormones whine.And we want him around. We might even be falling in love with him.
I scrub the plate and take deep breaths, so I won’t do something stupid. Like cry.
When I shut the water off, Gunnar is standing in the doorway to my tiny office, and he’s talking to Teagan, I think. “Come on, now,” he says. “I’ll walk you out.” He’s giving her his loverboy smile. And when she steps into view, he puts his arm around her back and leads her toward the front of my shop without a backward glance at me.
He’s turned on the charm, hoping to convince Teagan to take a bunch of extra shifts behind the counter. He’s trying to assuage his guilt at abandoning me like a used napkin.
I’m going to be eating takeout sushi alone on the sofa tonight, I realize. With the same extra-large glass of cheap white wine I was drinking the night that Gunnar walked back into my life.
How fitting.
“Posy?” Jerry calls from the front. “I know we’re closed now, but someone is here to see you!”
Please, God, let it not be another health inspector. “Coming!” I trot out to the front with no small amount of trepidation. What else could go wrong today?
But it’s not a health inspector. It’s a young woman with dark skin, clear brown eyes, long, elaborate earrings and her hair piled into a jaunty bun on top of her head. “My name is Monique. I’m here about the barista job,” she says. “If you’re on your way out, I could come back tomorrow morning. But I saw your sign in the window, and I’d love to fill out an application.”
I blink back my surprise. “Nice to meet you, Monique. Let me just grab that application. I’d be happy to stick around while you fill it out. The last barista quit, leaving me high and dry. He couldn’t even be bothered to give me two weeks’ notice.” My anger burns brightly as I say these words.
But my foolish gaze looks toward the street anyway. Ready for a glimpse, in case he passes by.
He doesn’t, though. So I nip into the office and grab an application, and a good pen. Then I bring it out to the young woman in front. “Here you go! Can I ask if you’ve worked as a barista before?”
“Oh, totally!” she says, giving me a beautiful smile. “My summer job is at Maxi’s Coffee in Peoria, Illinois. Our machine isn’t quite as pretty as yours. It’s a Cecilware two group. But I’m sure I won’t have a problem adapting. I’ll make you some test drinks if you want to see me in action.”
“Let’s do that,” I say, stepping behind the counter to flip Lola back on. “What’s your availability?”
“Well, Tuesday and Thursday aren’t good for me. But I piled all my classes onto those days, so that I could work the other five. NYU is expensive.”
Five days of availability, including weekends? I nearly squeal with joy. “I can work with that,” I say coolly. After all, Gunnar has turned me into a more cynical person than I used to be. It’s quite possible that Monique is some kind of spy. If there’s one murder plot afoot in my cafe, there could easily be a second one. Or a third. The world is full of liars with their own twisted agendas.
I watch Monique write her name onto my application in a pleasant, loopy script, her earrings swinging playfully as she writes.
Nope!my subconscious says.She’s a cheerful college student who needs money for beer and books.
The truth is that I’m just not cut out to see the world the way Gunnar sees it. I’m the kind of girl who expects people to be who they say they are, right up until the moment they let me down.
And Ilikemyself this way. If Monique is secretly a caffeine-crazed alien with a secret mission to colonize the Earth, I’m not going to figure it out until her spacecraft touches down in the alley outside. That’s just the kind of girl I am.
Monique finishes the application and looks up. “Shall I make you a drink? What will it be?”
“A decaf latte, please. Lola is a little finicky with the tamp. I won’t take any points off if it takes you a couple of tries to get it right.”
“I’ll win her over,” Monique says, ducking behind the counter and heading right to the sink to wash her hands.
I’m smitten already.
Humming to herself, Monique grinds a shot of decaf and tamps it expertly, dusting the group head of stray grounds. And she cleans the frothing arm like a pro.
A few short minutes later I’m sipping an excellent latte with a foam bunny on it. “When can you start?” I ask.
“Well, I could come in tomorrow. I need the paycheck. Your, um, flyer in the window says something about a signing bonus.”
That was Gunnar’s big idea. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to take his guilt money. “It’s five hundred bucks after your first shift, and another five hundred after your first month.”
Her eyes light up. “That’s wonderful. I can buy my last two textbooks, and still have money for beer.”
