Disclaimer: Criminal Minds, Ebenezer Scrooge, and the music of Miley Cyrus don't belong to me.


Day Six: The Extra Shift

As the parking lot lights turn on in front of the Coffee Cabana, I reach the midway point in my reading for my Monday morning European History class. One week into classes, and we've already reached the Black Plague, speeding through ancient Greece, Rome, and the various and sundry Huns who at one point or another dominated all of Europe. How I am going to keep it all straight for the exam that covers up-through-and-including the Renaissance, I honestly have no idea.

Business is slow on Saturday evenings- most students opt for alcohol over caffeine on weekend nights, and honestly I can't blame them. Balancing school, work, and home life is tricky enough. It would be good to get out and relax every once in awhile. Only problem is, all my friends went away to college, ready to escape the "boring" scene of D.C. for big college towns.

I'm sorry, but really? Ames, Iowa and Madison, Wisconsin have a better party scene than the nation's capitol city? You've got to be kidding me.

Which is why I'm here, picking up an extra shift on a perfectly good Saturday night. Petula's son Ryder has an ear infection- his third this year- and she needed someone to cover. Given my lack of plans and need of money, I was more than happy to volunteer.

Beside that, the parental units are returning from a visit to Elaine tonight. All day yesterday I was admonished for not wanting to go, not being more flexible with my work schedule. "Patricia, you should have known we were going to visit Laney tomorrow," my father had scolded, using my sister's nickname. I was always Patricia to them, never Trish, like I was to the rest of the world.

Honestly, I love my sister. But going to visit her with my parents always makes me feel like a total idiot. I can see it in their eyes- I suck the intelligence right out of the room. Elaine was and always will be the brilliant one. I am just mediocre Patricia, who will never live up to my sister's glory.

Whatever, I'll drive out to visit her one weekend when I'm feeling up to it. Elaine understands. At least someone in this family appreciates me.

OOO

"THE SEVEN THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU!" Amy sings as she rinses the interior of the coffee pot. It's not yet closing time, but business is so slow, we might as well start cleaning now and leave on time.

Amy is twenty-four going on fifteen, a high school drop out who's convinced she's still in her prom queen glory days. She's a fake henna red head, with a penchant for sparkles I've never met her before today, as she works seven days a week on the closing shift, when I'm normally locked up in my room studying my ass off.

"YOU'RE VAIN, YOUR GAMES, YOU'RE INSECURE…"

She seems nice enough, but her choice of music leaves a lot to be desired. Miley Cyrus? Even when I'm drunk, I can't tolerate the Disney Princess. Not that I ever drink. I'm only nineteen after all…

The thought passes my mind and I laugh internally. Yeah right…

As Miley whines on, I long for Petula's hippie music. At least those artists can sing, without autotune. But I really can't complain- despite Amy's head banging, she's taking on all the cleaning so I can get this homework done. I seriously owe her one.

Seven o'clock rolls around, then eight, then eight-thirty, and we're only half an hour from closing. Score! Just thirty minutes stand between me and my Netflixed copy of Shaun of the Dead. With a cup of coffee and the door of my room securely locked to keep the rest of the family out, this night is seriously looking up.

Life is good.

Or not.

The bells above the door tinkle, and in an instant, Amy stops singing and lowers her music. She returns to her washing quietly humming something about a hoedown. I look up from the counter, pondering just how 'polka dot it' could be a dance move, when I see a familiar face walk in.

Emily looks haggard and exhausted. There are dark circles under her haunted eyes. Her clothes aren't messy, but they are a bit wrinkled compared to her impeccably ironed power suits. I wonder if she's just gotten back from the case that Aaron had told her about earlier this week.

Behind her enters another woman, with the same tired look on her face. She has long blonde hair, and bangs that fall perfectly in her face in the manner I have so often attempted and failed at replicating. She's pregnant, pretty far along from what I can tell. Not that I'm an expert.

Emily approaches the counter first. "Hey! I'll get my regular, the-"

"Mint mocha latte," I interrupt. While I forget most of the regulars' orders, Emily and Aaron's are stuck in my head. I don't really understand why they're so damn interesting to me. They're human, just like any other person who comes through the Coffee Cabana, but there's something so intriguing about them that I just can't put my finger on.

Emily looks surprised. "How do you… oh wait! You're the new morning girl, right? Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone to know my order, I normally only get coffee in the morning. JJ, what do you want?"

The blonde smirks at me. "Can I get an espresso? Actually make that a double…"

I don't bother to write it down. She's obviously joking.

Emily gives her a gentle tap on the shoulder. "Do you WANT to give me a nervous breakdown? Coffee plus baby is a no-go. She'll have a bottle of water."

"Or a hot chocolate. That'd be good too," JJ says. I jot down the rest of the order and pass it to Amy, who walks off demonstrating exactly how to 'country-fy then hip hop it.' Silently, I wonder how anyone can remember all the moves to this stupid dance.

Leaning against the counter, JJ smiles at her friend. "The doctors are just going to love you when you start having kids, Em. Seriously."

Emily snorts. "At the rate I'm moving, it's getting more and more unlikely." She sounds bitter, and it makes me sad.

"Coffee's up!" Amy announces, passing the two steaming cups to the women.

They take a seat in the corner, even though the whole place is empty and the lights have already been dimmed in that part of the building. I would say something, but the customer is always right. Twenty minutes til closing, but it looks like we might have to stay later, if Emily and JJ want to sit and talk a while. I take comfort in the fact that we can lock the door once it hits nine, preventing any new customers.

"Scrub or sweep?" Amy asks me suddenly, making me jump from my spot leaning on the front counter. She's holding a bottle of dish detergent in one hand and a broom in the other. Neither option is really appealing, but I'm nosy. It's a fault, an honest one, but I want to know where Emily and JJ's conversation is going.

So, with more enthusiasm than perhaps I should display, I grab the broom from Amy's hand.

I move carefully across the beige tiled floor gathering the discarded napkins and pastry crumbs into a neat pile. There isn't much, but even skimping out on the sweeping one day risks a mouse invasion, or even worse rats. I abjectly refuse to deal with rats. Dragging chairs across the floor to access beneath the tables, I try to keep them from scratching and screeching. Emily and JJ are speaking in hushed voices, and I want to hear everything. It's an inherent curiosity- about the case they returned from, about why Emily is convinced she'll reach menopause before she reaches the minister and her fiancé at the front of the church. Who wouldn't want to know?

I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell for this. Or at least am well on my way to reserving myself a seat in the eternal scalding sauna.

"He's only been divorced a couple of months Jayje, And separated a year. Christ, it wasn't even his choice! She left him. Not to mention the fact that he's our boss." Emily takes a long drink for her coffee, chugging it like the beers my ex-boyfriend downed during football games. "Damn it, this normally kicks in faster, I'm not going to get anything done tonight at this rate."

Those few sentences I are enough to send my mind reeling. Is this a continuation of the baby conversation? Does Emily want to have her boss's babies? Is he really that hott? The words "boss" conjures up an ancient old man in my mind, weathered with age and half-blind, counting his pennies like Ebenezer Scrooge.

Come on, Emily, you can do so much better.

And now I'm giving internal pep talks to total strangers. New low? Possibly.

"You're kidding me, Em. Back to work. Seriously? We just got home!" JJ seems dismayed, but not surprised, as she sips at the hot chocolate.

Emily shrugs her shoulders. "Unlike you, I do not have a warm, cuddly Southern gentleman to return home to. What else is there to do? Might as well write the reports up while everything is still fresh in my mind."

"Or are you hoping a certain Senior Supervisory Agent will be there?" JJ clearly wants a confession from her brown-haired friend.

A half-smile briefly appears on Emily's face before returning to its previous neutral expression. "No. Absolutely not."

"Oh. You totally are." JJ is beaming now, and I suddenly realize I've stopped sweeping and have been focusing on the conversation. Quickly, I start pushing chairs back in.

My chore is done, and I dispose of the pile of crumbs, slightly disappointed that I no longer have a reason to eavesdrop. It doesn't matter though, because Emily looks down at her watch and realizes that it's nearly closing.

The two women stand, pushing in their chairs. Emily waves at me and Amy. "Sorry about coming in so late, ladies. Have a good weekend!" Before they leave, Emily tosses a dollar in the relatively empty tip jar.

As the bells above the door resonate, Amy nearly kills herself running to the door and locking it. She tosses me a rag to wipe down the tables and turns up the music.

Hilary Duff.

I check my watch. Only five more minutes of musical torture. I can live with that.


Hey everybody! Hope everyone had a very happy holiday season and that you've all been enjoying the New Year so far! I know I for one enjoyed getting home for a week of R&R.

Hope you all enjoyed this new chapter as well! It was fun to write. Also, apologies to anyone who is not a Miley Cyrus fan. The song and dance quoted throughout is the Hoedown Throwdown, and having listened to the song several times over, I have deemed it the most incoherant and unneccessarily complex dance in the history of life (this from a closet fan of Miley's music!).

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and add/favorite the last chapter, and especially those of you left a review: jcsgc1, melpomene94, jazmingirl, lalixa, Odakota Rose, chiroho, JSgal24JAG, Orchidae, and Jean. Your comments are greatly appreciated!

Aiming to have the next chapter up soon! Feel free to leave a review- they are always greatly appreciated!