The Hut is insane.
A pop star has died and someone chose the other end of my street as a good enough place to hold the makeshift tribute. The store is packed to capacity and I have called in all my staff. Teenagers lounge on my furniture, legs are splayed haphazardly between the tables, and I fear for my lungs with the amount of body odor and the various sprays trying to mask it. Loud voices echo off of the high rafters in the open ceiling, high pitched giggles breaking through the hush of sniffles and quiet tears. A few courageous adults grimace in the corners; some accompanying the teens, others having the misfortune of needing a hit of caffeine and then stumbling into this madhouse.
We are all working as fast as we can but the line never dwindles. It's starting to grate on my nerves. Unfortunately, I've pulled a double shift. My usual guy who takes the morning stint had called in with a case of the flu just an hour before his shift was scheduled to start. My feet are hurting and need somewhere to rest. My head is pounding and could use a good long stretch of sleep. My patience is stretched thin and I'd like nothing more than to kick everybody out, make my way home, and sink into a hot bath.
It's not that I dislike these kids; they are great and I feel for them. Stunned and saddened, my friends and I had stumbled into an Italian restaurant after Kurt Cobain had died, looking for this very same kind of peace; the kind that only mass congregation can provide. We'd sobbed over pasta carbonara and cheap red wine, shared stories and sung his songs. I remember that we'd kept the store open until well past closing time, the owner being kind enough not to kick us out. These kids are hurting and need somewhere to congregate.
I also know that none of them would regularly come in here, the Starbucks across the street with the hip music and the more reliable source of Wifi being their hangout of choice. I'm not worried this will become a regular occurrence and so I'm happy (as far as an achy-footed, pounding-headed, middle-aged woman can be at midnight) to oblige.
I am however a little worried that Rick's chair may not survive the round of heavy petting that's currently going on over in its somewhat secluded location in the store. I make a note to buy a large can of Lysol. Just in case.
"People change then instantly, I'm not the same girl I used to be.."
I smile as I hear the soft, pretty voice... and groan a little at the choice of song. It's all I've heard the entire evening. The gathering in honor of Haley Blue has had people coming in all night looking for a quick caffeine fix and a reprieve from the cold; a good portion of them have been humming this song. This voice though, is surprisingly good, and doesn't hold the note of a stuffy nose or a scratched raw throat that most of them have had. When I raise my eyes from the espresso machine it's an even greater surprise; none other than my elusive Castle fan. I haven't seen her for a good two weeks.
Last time I'd seen her, she was in a huff. I'd motioned to my worn copy of Diamonds Are Forever and mentioned that it would be cool if Castle wrote Bond novels. I had been trying to feel out her response to the offer Rick had mentioned that morning as he'd ordered his usual; a cappuccino for him and his detective's vanilla latte.
The offer had intrigued me, and although I'd miss Nikki Heat if he decided to stop writing her, I'd always loved the spy novels and was eager to see how Rick would approach the legendary character. I'd expected her reaction to be the same. Rick's Heat series excited me but James Bond was... well it was Bond! A look of surprise had frozen her features before she'd muttered something about James Bond being overrated, and then left before we could talk anymore. I'd stood there for a good five minutes pondering why she could possibly dislike 007, coming to absolutely no conclusions.
She looks happy tonight though; and it's enough to greatly improve my mood. She's a familiar face in a sea of strangers.
"You don't seem the Haley Blue type?" I question with a smirk as I begin working on her usual chai.
"Ha! No, not really. I'd never even heard of her until a few days ago." She fiddles with her scarf and cocks her head to the side, a wide smile transforming her face. "But you've got to admit, the song is rather catchy."
She has a point. I've caught myself humming it a few times this evening. It could be worse, it could be Bieber. It took months for me to get that ridiculous "Baby" song out of my head.
"So did you finish reading Heat Wave yet?" I ask as I add my special blend of spices to the strong, black tea. I refuse to use that syrupy stuff a certain other store uses. Sure, my chais take a few minutes to make, instead of a quick thirty seconds, but the difference is discernible. I think that the trade off, quality versus speed, is worth it.
There's no need to ask if she's started the book; she's a fan. I'd be willing to bet she went out and bought it the very first day it was on the shelves. I want to hear what she thinks, Rick loves to get unbiased reviews by way of me and my probing into customer's lives.
"Mmm, that smells heavenly," she says as the tea and spices steep and I begin steaming the milk. "And yeah, I read it."
She's trying to hide it, her lips quiver and her eyes sparkle a brilliant green for just a second. Then all of a sudden, a goofy grin is plastered all over her face and I know exactly what scene she is thinking of.
"Page one-oh-five... hot huh?"
"Yeah, it was... alright," she hedges.
Oh no, I'm not letting her out of this one. She's knows that scene well enough to know the page number.
Pot calling the kettle black, Jess?
Ignoring my traitorous mind, I study her as I pour the milk into her cup and scoop a small layer of foam on top. There is a hint of a blush on the apples of her cheeks and she is avoiding my gaze. Now I simply have to get a reaction out of her.
"Alright?" I gush. "It had me fanning myself, reaching for a cold compress, and dreaming of having my very own writer to follow me around. Admit it, it was more than good. And then the build up...God! Makes me want to reconsider my decades-old decision to never drink tequila again."
Rick really had outdone himself with that scene. Usually, he tends to focus more on the intricacies of the mystery rather than the personal lives of his protagonists. Heat Wave had been a surprise, a welcome one, and the case hadn't been too bad either. I need to read more, and now that Bond is off the table, the three book Heat deal being too great for him to resist, I hope that this detective he's shadowing doesn't let him down. I don't know what he had been more excited about; being able to continue following his detective, or the obscene amount of money they had offered him.
"Alright, alright," she admits, holding up her hands in surrender. "It was hot. It was downright steamy. Not his usual style, but I could certainly get used to it."
"I bet you could," I smirk.
She flinches slightly at that and bites at the corner of her lip. There is a barely audible pop as she releases, her lips a deep crimson where her teeth had sunk in. She doesn't seem like the type to be embarrassed by a little innuendo and once again I get the distinct impression that I'm missing out on something.
Shaking off the feeling, I continue with my inquiries. Thirty more seconds and she will be gone, her tea is already made and I'm stalling. It's busy tonight, and her... his... the chair, is still being abused by the teenage couple who are now having maybe a little too much fun.
I don't want to be a spoil-sport, but really, would it kill them to at least try and keep it discreet? I am hopelessly grateful that their clothes are still on.
"So why are you so happy looking this evening?"
"Am I?" she asks, touching the backs of her hands lightly to her cheeks, as though checking for heat.
"Hot date?" I prod.
Now she really is blushing. Her cheeks flush a deep pink and she angles her head down, away towards the door. I can visualize the wheels spinning in her mind; she's planning her escape. She digging in her purse, getting out cash and placing it on the counter.
Crap! Smooth move, Jess.
"Huh?... Oh... No, No! Nothing like that," she recovers, and the secretive smile returns. "Just ended up at the tribute with a friend of mine and his family. It was a nice night, you know? A welcome reprieve from work."
Yep, there's definitely something going on there. I'm fairly certain she let out a little sigh at the mention of his family and I now know for sure that the woman is smitten. The mention of my ex-husband's family, even in the best of times, didn't make me sigh contentedly. She not only likes this man, she likes his family too. A lot. I decide to let her off the hook and hand over her chai with a knowing smile.
"It was good seeing you again. Don't be a stranger, okay? I'd love to discuss books with you again too; Castle or otherwise." I gesture to the growing line, and then over to the teenagers now doing a pretty accurate interpretation of a pretzel. It's impressive really, considering the tight quarters they have to work with. "But maybe sometime when the cafe isn't quite so... insane."
She laughs and throws me a small wave as she heads out the door.
"Sounds like fun, have a good night."
I could kick myself.
My incessant need to live vicariously through other people's love lives has just missed me a prime opportunity to find out what she does for a living. I had my opening and I blew it!
Shit! I didn't even get her name. Again!
I apologize to Starbucks. I really don't hate them. Promise. I am a regular addict and my very own Jess always has my latte made by the time I reach the registers. Maybe it's just my mind's way of getting over the obscene amount of money I spend there. A little passive aggressive behavior on my brain's part.
Also, again, yes this is a repost until chapter 8 or 9ish when it will be entirely new. Although a LOT has changed and been rearranged and you might want to read it from the beginning anyway.
Love to all who have taken the minute to review. I am absolutely awful about replying to them individually, but do know that each and every one puts a spring in my step and keeps me coming back for more.
Thanks to Avi for pointing out the unintentional lesbian moment (whoops!), and to AnnieXMuller (go read her stuff) for pointing out that I was being a Drama Llama and that writing really isn't as HARD as I was making it out to be.