Page 10

I channeled cool, calm, collected, but instead of being any, blurted out, “You work here?”

Shanley’s ringed lips spread in a smile across a dramatic jawline.

“I could ask the same.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” I cringed after I said it, not actually meaning to apologize.

“No need to be sorry. Nice to meet you.” Her palm, dry as sandpaper, shook mine.

She gripped lightly, handling me like I was a porcelain doll, but she was capable of breaking me in one squeeze if she wanted.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” As we let go, I noticed a faint set of scars notched on her knuckles.

“Well, isn’t this sweet. I don’t think our customers were anticipating coffee and a show.” Tom harrumphed and tapped his foot, obviously annoyed at not being the dominant force in the room.

Which was a joke next to Shanley’s easy confidence and the canines she flashed in a grin—he practically shriveled in her presence.

Still, he bit out, “Perhaps you can move this lovefest behind the counter so we can address the line out the door?”

I turned to him, already expecting the infamous lip quiver.

About a five on the scale of combustion.

Not life-threatening for me yet.

Frickin’ Tom. His unhappiness roiled inside him until it permanently set like the yolk of a hard-boiled egg.

Fitting, considering the shape of his head.

I had to say, I enjoyed poking cracks in his shell.

Nevertheless, I jumped into the line of duty even though Tom was exaggerating and there were only two people waiting.

Shanley joined me in greeting customers, repeating the script with a forced smile: welcome, what can we get you, what can we get you, what can we get you.

When our faces and voices no longer contradicted our lack of enthusiasm—about one hundred drinks later, it felt like, I muttered, “It gets old pretty fast.” I handed her a portafilter full of compacted grounds.

“Do you want to brew the espresso? I’ll steam the soy milk.”

With a gleam of amusement, she twisted the spoon-looking device into the machine and pressed the double shot button as I held the bottom of the stainless-steel pitcher under the steam wand.

Right. “It’s not rocket science, huh? Ow!” It wasn’t the best moment for me to nearly burn the skin off my fingers.

They screamed in red-hot pain.

“Are you okay!?” Shanley’s smirk turned to concern, and she turned the dial on the steam wand to off.

I waved my scorched hand.

“Let that be a lesson in what not to do. Always hold the pitcher by the handle when steaming anything.”

Despite the pain and embarrassment flushing my neck, I let out a laugh.

Shanley laughed with me as she turned on the faucet and guided me towards it.

“Put your fingers under here. I got the next order.” I flinched as the water rushed against my tender skin, until the velvety stream eased the swelling and the heat no longer radiated to my wrist.

Tom Boiled Egg glowered in my periphery.

I was surprised he hadn’t jumped at the chance to correct me, which in his mind was more useful than helping make drinks.

He shoved a box of rolled gauze at me.

“It’s better now. Quit slacking and get back to work.”

Fighting every impulse to roll my eyes, I wrapped my hand in the clingy fabric as he bellowed something about the deterioration of the community’s youth.

I’d rather burn my other hand than listen to his griping, its shrillness reaching decibels the Voices hadn’t even mastered.

By the time the Open sign finally flickered off he still hadn’t stopped nagging.

The closing checklist hung beneath the soft glow of a wall lamp, lit like a shrine, the laminated list of procedures about as long as my econ syllabus.

A warm feeling of contentment curled up inside me at the thought of restocking chai.

It wasn’t every person’s fantasy to be saddled with the grunt work while their boss left them high and dry, but if it meant we no longer had to share the vicinity with him, then bring on the inventory.

Like clockwork, Tom Boiled Egg resigned for the evening.

“Unfortunately, I have to leave,” he announced, not even trying to suppress his victorious smile.

“Shanley, River will show you how to close. Training can be overwhelming, so if she’s too slow or not explaining things, refer to the handbook. You seem to pick things up easily.”

Nice burn, Tom.

My forehead scrunched at the flagrant dig.

It wasn’t new, this failure to believe I possessed the capacity to teach anyone anything.

He’d held on to this mantra since the day I started when I had an episode twenty minutes into my shift.

Do you have a disease?

he’d asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He’d probably wanted to fire me on the spot, but I’m sure some sort of legal implication stopped him.

It was bullshit. I tossed the metal frother I was shining in the sink, hoping its resounding clink made it very clear I had heard him.

“I’m sure she can handle it.” Shanley’s retort was the epitome of untroubled coolness, just like how I’d wanted to sound earlier.

I downplayed the excitement that upturned my lips and stole a glance at The Egg.

A vein popped above his eyebrow.

His shell flushed red.

“Uh—I—are you sure?” His programming must not include a reaction for this failed attempt at alpha bonding.

“For sure. River’s a rock star.” In egregious defiance, Shanley gave me a wink.

My cheeks lifted in response thanks to my knightess in shining flannel, taking a stand against this workplace monster.

With his anger smoldering from the inside out, Tom’s human characteristics melted away until he resembled nothing more than a mass of cringing bones.

He was so tightly wound his fists lost their color, the tendons in his neck protruded, and his pupils flared with devoted hatred.

Not at Shanley; it was all directed at me: the subordinate forever ruining his mood.

“Okay then,” he managed to choke out.

Tom Boiled Egg paused at the exit, his final grimace an omen of what to expect at my next shift.

“Piss off,” Shanley said under her breath as he slipped into the night.

The second he disappeared from view, she threw off her apron and hopped onto the counter, the ripped knees of her jeans baring more skin as her legs dangled over the edge.

A growl thrummed in her throat as she rolled her head, relieving the tension from taking hours of drink orders.

I flicked my eyes between my coworker’s colorfully muraled arms and the store’s entry, wanting to kick off my shoes and join her—but the last thing I needed was another reason for Tom to yell at me, and we had way too much side work to do.

“Is he that out of touch?” Shanley asked, no longer cracking the joints in her neck.

“Yep.” I grabbed a rag and idly wiped at the water marks, waiting for him to barge back in.

“How do you do it? How do you deal with him?” Her arched brows rose higher.

I shrugged. “It’s part of the job.”

“You can stop monitoring the door. He’s not coming back.” The finality of her tone had me believing her, whether it was true or not.

My shoulders started to unroll when a jingle from the entrance had me standing straight up again.

Tom —or worse, one of those people that demanded service after we’d closed.

My head whipped in their direction.

As I took in their ebony hair, the way it curled over their forehead, the bounce to it matching their steps, and the sparkle in their brown eyes—which seemed to burn brighter as they locked with mine—my horror dissolved completely.

Javi slowed his pace as he reached the grab-n-go display.

“Don’t kill me.”

The air I’d been holding in left me in one long, relieved sigh, deflating my upper body.

“I was literally just thinking, the audacity .”

His laugh was one that crinkled his eyes and his nose, so infectious I couldn’t stop myself from smiling, too.

“I’m not here as an asshole customer—you’ve got enough of those.” Plopping a clear plastic bag on the counter filled with pink-and-green sugary snacks, he added, “I’ve come bearing gifts.”

Watermelon candy .

I salivated instantly.

“What is this for?”

“A little something to sweeten your first day of summer school.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal he was constantly going out of his way to be a decent human, when the world clearly didn’t have enough of those.

“Thank you.” I examined the goods and reached in, offering one to him.

“Mmm…Take one now, because I’m definitely going to devour this entire bag tonight.”

The slight dimple on his chin deepened the wider he grinned.

“That’s the spirit.”

I felt another gaze on me, outside of Javi’s, as I took down a second handful.

“Oh!” I spun towards my coworker, whose cheeks were tight as if she’d eaten something sweet or sour.

“Javi, this is Shanley.”

“Hey,” she chirped, lips falling into a smile way too easily.

“Hey,” he repeated, dragging his fingers through the waves of his hair to get the strands out of his eyes.

“I know you guys are closing. Just came to drop that off.”

Shanley waved a hand.

“No worries, man. Stay as long as you want.”

“Ah, I got to get going anyways.” Before he reached the door, he turned on the heels of his black high tops, the same ones I wore, to pause and raise a brow at me.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yep.” The word came out muffled as I covered my mouth and chewed what remained of my gummy.

He slipped out the way he came with a flash of teeth in acknowledgment, the wheels of his skateboard rumbling against the pavement like distant thunder in the night.

Picking at the last pieces of candy, I let myself slouch against the counter and cross my arms. A yawn slipped past my lips.

“Tired?” Shanley jumped down from her perch and fired up the espresso machine.

“You know, we do work at a coffee shop.”

“Yeah, thanks.” A bigger yawn this time.

“That your boyfriend?”

I almost choked on a mini watermelon.

“No,” I spat between coughs, “No. Definitely not. Javi’s my friend. My best friend.”

“Your best friend went out of his way to come to your work and bring you your favorite candy?” The frother dampened her voice, but the insinuation was louder than the whistle of the steam.

I threw up my arms. “He was probably in the neighborhood!”

“Okay.” I caught a stilted laugh as she blew out the word and passed me a fresh almond milk latte.

“So, what classes are you taking at CC?”

With everything that had happened since I’d started my shift, I completely forgot we’d crossed paths earlier.

Well, more like I crossed her path when I ate it in front of her and all of her friends.

“Econ 101.” I blew on the piping hot liquid and took a tentative sip, ready to move on from the topic of me and Javi.

I knew what we were, and maybe it was complicated, but I didn’t need anyone else telling me so.

“Good milk-to-espresso ratio. Frothy. Not bad, Shanley.” I raised my drink in cheers.

She grabbed an empty cup, clinking it against mine.

Then her brows drew together.

“Wait, you’re taking economics on purpose!?”

My cheeks burned.

“I have to. In order to graduate. High school,” I added.

“Hey.” She shrugged.

“You’re way smarter than me. I don’t think I ever got as high as geometry. Well, I definitely got high, but not in class.”

My forced laugh could’ve cut glass.

“Spare me the sympathy jokes.”

I knew what I was.

Diploma-less. A sham.

Pathetic.

Maybe it was the openness of Shanley’s stance or the nonthreatening crook of her smile.

I knew that she saw right past my bark but took the hint.

Shanley sidestepped the subject, and me, as she crossed the floor, took the checklist off its hook, and twirled it around her finger.

“Alright, which one of us is cleaning the bathroom?”

“I will.” A moment of solitude, even amongst dirty toilets, didn’t sound so bad.

“No, I’m kidding. I’ll do it.” Then in a stage whisper, she added, “There’s poop in there.”

I snickered.

“Tom must have laid an egg.”

“What did you say?” Shanley’s eyes widened.

Her lips remained parted, like the thoughts were there, but she was stuck on how to convey them.

Forgetting this inside joke was very much inside my own head, I couldn’t tell if her feral stare meant she was offended—or impressed.

After a moment her wildness faded into a peculiar grin, and a few short yips turned into an uncontainable howl of laughter.

Whether it came from a place of relief or insanity, I jumped in, filling her in on my petty nickname for him, until we were both so consumed with laughter that we clutched our stomachs for air.

“Tom Boiled Egg! That’s great.” Shanley wiped her eyes and headed for the restroom.

After the giggles ran their course and my face ached from smiling so hard, I tried to focus on inventory, but my mind drifted elsewhere.

It’d been four full days without the Voices, and while the world was much more manageable without them—predictable, coherent—it also felt like it was missing an element or a color.

I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

Sure, I’d made a few more friends in their absence, if that’s what you’d call Ryder and Shanley.

I held a bag of Sumatran dark roast in one hand (earthy, wild, bitter) and a Costa Rican light roast in the other (sweet, easy, mildly acidic), weighing them alongside my new friendships.

“If we inhale any more of these chemicals we’re going to turn into zombies.” Shanley’s voice scattered my thoughts as her oversized gloves landed in the bin next to me.

“I’m also late for a show. What do you say we roll, girl?”

As I went to reference the checklist, she stole it from my hands and threw it in the trash.

Clipboard and all. “We’re done with this.”

This time my reaction stalled.

Unlike me, she wasn’t bothered by how her actions might or might not be interpreted.

She was bold, whether people liked it or not.

And Tom would definitely not like what he saw.

As hard as I tried, my eyes couldn’t resist a sweep of the coffee grounds beneath the appliances, the still-soapy kitchen gadgets, the empty napkin container.

For anyone but Tom our cleaning might’ve not been a big deal.

Then again, what’s one more infraction for the girl who already topped his shit list?

“Screw it.” I tossed in the towel, the yellow microfiber soaring into the laundry cart.

The flash of Shanley’s teeth gave me the approval I needed to carry out my rebellion against the eggheaded overlord.

I grabbed my backpack from the office and switched off all the lights, ignoring the smudges on the pastry case as I threw on my corduroy drop-sleeve.

Faint stripes of light fell in zigzags over the laminate from the headlights of passing cars.

They doubled Shanley’s shadow, making her appear broader than the doorframe she waited in front of.

I followed her after you motion out into the courtyard, illuminated by the waxing moon.

Heat steamed from the gutters, grunts came from shady corners, and stores lay abandoned for the night.

“I’m going this way.” Shanley gestured towards the grouping of nightclubs at the opposite end of the street.

“Keep standing up for yourself, River. Mutiny suits you.”

“Any time you want to schedule an uprising, just holler,” I said as we parted ways.

“Let’s make it easy and arrange it now,” she called, walking backwards to face me.

“Say same time, same place? Er, uh, next shift?”

“You got it!” I yelled before she disappeared behind a neighboring bakery.

Smiling to myself, I turned the opposite way, taking the alley of graffiti behind Kona Koffee, a charming passage of dumpsters that flanked the pee-soaked wall.

The construction site on my other side hadn’t seemed threatening when I came to clock in.

But this late, devoid of workers in their orange safety vests, it was nothing but a crater of darkness.

I picked up the pace and swung my backpack around, my breath clouding in front of me.

Strange, because it was the peak of summer, and although there’d been a chill in the air, I hadn’t exactly needed a parka when I’d left Kona Koffee.

Now the cold curled my fingers, so numb I couldn’t pinch them together to unzip the front pocket and grab my headphones.

I choked on an icy inhale, as if the rising steam from the gutters had wrapped around my throat, trapping the air.

My gut somersaulted, turning tight and acidic, as a whisper on the wind tickled the thousands of nerves in my ear.

I groaned through strained teeth as the patter of tiny paws scraped the worn asphalt, fleeing a presence that couldn’t be seen—the goosebumps on my skin feeling more like dozens of rat claws climbing all over me.

That idea seemed to take hold, causing me to low-key panic: I wiped my arms, my neck, my legs—but my hands didn’t brush against anything furry, nothing fell off me and scurried into the crevices, despite the squeaks and scrapes growing steadily.

My spine curled as water droplets trickled out of drainpipes and burst against the asphalt, reverberating inside my skull.

I cursed all the innocent little noises that made the night so lovely and intriguing—my eardrums on the verge of bursting at the shout of my own voice.

Soon, there was nothing but a vortex of sound all around me.

And that could only mean one thing.