The Espressologist

7

On Wednesday, I've only been working for about an hour and Sarah and I are doing a quick cleaning. There was a mom in here when my shift began who let her one-year-old tear the place apart. He was bowling with an apple and the yogurt smoothie containers from the refrigerator case and building a pyramid with pound packages of coffee. She sat there the entire time looking adoringly at him and I was wondering just how big of a mess he was going to leave me to clean before the next rush of customers. I reached my breaking point when he pulled down all of the coffee travel mugs and walked around the store passing them out. As I was about to finally say something to his mom, she swooped him up, blew raspberries into his neck, and left the store, not even giving a backward glance at the wreck her toddler tornado had left.

I am putting the mugs away when I suddenly feel a presence behind me. I glance over my shoulder. It's a slightly pleased Derek. His right hand is poised in midair, but then he quickly pulls it down to his side. I think he was going to pat me on the back.

"Hey," I say. "How's it going, Derek?"

"Good. These are good." He waves a paper in his left hand at me. It's my list of "Manager's Specialty Drinks" for the month of December.

"Thanks."

"Keep it up." He nods at me awkwardly and then walks quickly toward his office. I step behind the counter to wait on the next customer. Sarah joins me.

"Was that Derek ... being nice?"

"Yeah. Looks weird on him, doesn't it?"

"Totally." She giggles. "Hey, I didn't thank you for setting me up with Officer Scrumptious."

"What happened?" I ask excitedly. "Did he call you?

Did you go out?"

"Yes and yes," Sarah answers. "He's so awesome. He called me the next day and we met for drinks. We hit it off right away so afterward we decided to go dancing. He is such a good dancer. The way he moves his body.

Omigod."

"That good, huh?"

"Mmm-hmm." She has a dreamy look on her face.

"Well, I'm two for two now. First Gavin and Simone, and then you and Officer Jake. I'm setting up my friend Cam with Em now."

"You're becoming the local matchmaker," she says.

"Yeah. I guess I kind of am." Just then the door opens and in walk my frat boys. "Oh my gosh, is it after five already?"

Sarah nods. "Yeah, it's five-twenty."

Ugh. No time to fix my hair or check my makeup. I turn my head and try to subtly sniff my shirt. Did I put on my wildflower body spray this morning? Can't remember. I squirt a tiny bit of vanilla syrup into my palm and dab a bit behind each ear. Yeah, it seems a little gross, and quite frankly sticky, but it is here and fast, and, well, now I smell delicious. I quickly pinch my cheeks to give them some color. I don't actually think it will make me look any better, but my grandma always told me, "Give your cheeks a little pinch whenever you are about to talk to a cute boy." And Will is as cute as they come, so I pinch away.

"Are you okay?" Will asks, and I quickly take my hands away from my face.

What, did he fly across the store to the counter?

"Sure!" I say, grinning ear to ear. "How are you doing today?"

He frowns slightly. "I could be a lot better. I overslept and missed my math class. Then I failed my history quiz.

Not good."

"I'm so sorry," I say. "At least Thanksgiving is tomorrow and you'll get a break."

Will nods. "That's true. What about you? Any special plans for tomorrow, Jane?"

"Just the normal family thing," I say. "My mom always hosts Thanksgiving."

"That's sweet," he says with a warm tone in his voice.

"We're not really doing the whole Thanksgiving thing."

"Why not?"

"We all"–he points to himself and his friends–"got roped into some fraternity duties this weekend and can't go home. We're going to get together with a group of friends and just watch football games and order pizzas."

"That sounds like fun!" I say. And I seriously mean it. I would so rather be sitting at Will's frat house eating pizza tomorrow instead of sitting next to my sloppy uncle Ed, who somehow manages to spill gravy on my shirt at every holiday meal.

"You're more than welcome to join us," Will offers.

"Seriously?" I ask a little too eagerly. "Yeah," he says, and laughs.

Now I look like an idiot again. I really need to calm down. But this is almost a date!

"Well, here," I say, shoving a piece of paper and pen at him, "write down your info and I'll call you if I can get out of my family thing."

Will jots down a phone number and passes the paper to me. I fold it up and slip it into my pocket.

The boys take their drinks and head for the door. Will pauses and turns back around. "Maybe we'll see you tomorrow.

"Maybe," I say. "Niiiiice," Sarah says. "I know, right?"

Thanksgiving Day starts out just as I expected. Dad, Uncle Ed, Grandpa Turner, and my cousins Nathan (whom

I still haven't forgiven for the whole homecoming debacle last year) and Kevin are all parked on the couch in front of the TV watching football. Mom, Grandma Torreni, Aunt Sally, and my super people-pleasing cousin Susie are all cooking a ton of food in the kitchen. I don't know where to go. I don't want to cook and I hate football. I consider sneaking back into my room to read the new book I bought last week when I hear my name.

"Jaaaaaaaane," my mom calls.

Oh crap. I head toward the kitchen. The silver fixtures and appliances gleam and the pumpkin-colored walls give the room a warm feeling. I stand outside the door, hoping that is as close as I will have to get.

"There you are," Mom says. "Come here and hold the turkey's legs apart so I can pull out the guts." Mom is standing next to the sink holding on to the pimply-skinned legs of a gigantic turkey.

"What?" I twist my face in disgust. "No way, that is so gross."

"Jane, I need you," Mom says in a stern voice now.

"Um, I'd really rather not."

"I can help you, Auntie Cheryl," Susie says, and I roll my eyes.

"No, Susie, you are elbow-deep in stuffing. Jane, NOW," Mom orders.

I'm not going to get out of this.

"Oh, for god's sake," I mutter under my breath as I join my mom at the sink. "Fine, I'm here. What do I have to do?"

"Grab each leg with one of your hands and spread."

"You are going to at least give me gloves to wear, right?" I ask.

"It's just a turkey, Jane. Now grab."

I tentatively grab each of the turkey's legs in my hands and I swear I'm about to retch. The turkey totally looks like a big fat baby with its peachy wet skin. Its wings are both folded in close to its chest and I really think I am going to lose it right here on the spot. I turn my head and close my eyes.

"Okay, now spread," Mom says. I yank the turkey's legs apart and I feel a little dizzy. I don't know why, but I turn back to the sink and open one eye to see what Mom is doing. Just then I see her whole forearm disappear into the turkey and then reappear with a mound of gushy red turkey innards.

"Oh, my god!" I yell. I let go of the turkey legs, cover my mouth, and run out of the kitchen to the bathroom.

I hear my mom sigh and Susie say, "Don't worry, Auntie Cheryl, I've got it."

But I don't even care. Let Susie hold the turkey's legs.

I'm so not going back in there.

After a moment of dry heaving over the toilet, I step to the sink and squirt three large globs of antibacterial soap onto my hands. I scrub for a few moments, trying to erase any evidence of the last few minutes.

I head to my room to think about what to do next.

Well, I'm certainly not about to eat turkey after what I've just seen. A smile spreads over my face as I remember Will's invitation yesterday and I decide to attempt slipping out and hitting his Thanksgiving celebration. I pick up yesterday's pants off the top of my laundry pile and search for Will's phone number. I find the piece of paper, grab my cell phone off my desk, and climb up on my bed to make the call. I dial his number, mentally preparing what I'm going to say as I hear someone pick up.

"I'm sorry, the wireless number you are trying to reach is not in service," a mechanical woman's voice says to me.

"What?" I say. I take the phone away from my ear and look at it. "That can't be right." I hit END on my cell phone and then dial the number again. The same robot chick answers.

"I'm sorry, the wireless number you are trying to reach is not in service."

I snap my phone shut and lean back on my pillows. I wonder what happened. Did his parents find out he failed his quiz and turn off his cell phone service? No, that would be overly dramatic, wouldn't it?

I hope he is okay. What if he got in a terrible accident? He could have been standing too close to the train tracks on his way home last night when he heard someone yell his name. Only it wasn't him they were calling: it was a girl named Jill. But it was too late; he turned too fast, lost his footing, and fell right onto the tracks. Before he could scramble off, WHOOSH! He was run over by the orange line! Oh, no. Poor Will. He's probably lying in a hospital bed somewhere calling out my name "Jane ... Jane ... Jane ..."

But no. That doesn't make sense either. His phone would have just forwarded to voice mail if it had been squashed by a train. That, and I'm sure there probably would have been something on the news.

I lie on my bed for a few more minutes and then I sit bolt upright, suddenly feeling a little nauseated again. Did he give me a fake phone number? No. I mean, he wouldn't do that, right?

I try to read my book, which is really pretty good, but it doesn't take my mind off the whole Will phone number thing. I decide to go on instant messenger and see if there is anyone else online to talk to. I log on and a moment later see my buddy list window appear. I scan the list–Megan87, Beer-freakIII, HotButterKisses, and EM2009.

Yes! Em is online. I quickly send her a message.

baristachick09: EM!! OMG, I'm so glad u r online!!!

EM2009: Hey, Happy Turkey Day!

baristachick09: Seriously, no turkey talk. : (

EM2009: Y? What's wrong?

baristachick09: Em, am I totally lame? Do u think Will likes me?

EM2009: Will, who gave you his #, Will? Totally.

baristachick09: That's just it.

EM2009: ???

baristachick09: I called the #. Not in service.

baristachick09: r u still there?

EM2009: Yeah. Just thinking.

baristachick09: It's bad, right?

EM2009: I dunno. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe something happened?

baristachick09: Like what?

EM2009: I don't know, ask him when u c him.

baristachick09: Maybe. : (

EM2009: Cheer up. It's a holiday! : )

baristachick09: Y r u in such a good mood?

EM2009: :):):)

baristachick09: What? Tell me.

EM2009: Cam=AWESOME.

baristachick09: u talked to him?

EM2009: Yeah. A few times. We were just IMing but he had to go help cook. OMG, what a sweetie.

baristachick09: He is.

EM2009: We r going out tomorrow night.

baristachick09: u r? Cool.

EM2009: u r ok with that, right? r u mad?

baristachick09: No.

EM2009: r u sure? baristachick09: Yeah.

EM2009: Remember–u set us up ...

baristachick09: I know, I know. Not mad, promise. Just thinking about the Will thing.

EM2009: Don't let it ruin your day. 4real.

baristachick09: Ok.

EM2009: My mom is calling. Got2go. c u tomorrow, k?

baristachick09: c u.

I log off and sit back in my desk chair. I know I set Cam and Em up and I am happy that Em is happy but... I don't know. I guess I'm a little surprised that they've hit it off so quickly. They're both awesome, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. Ugh. It's probably this whole Will thing making me feel weird. I push away from my computer, climb back into bed, and throw my fuzzy pink covers over my head. Maybe a nap will help.

It's still dark out after I've slowly trudged into the store. I can't believe I have to work this early, but it's Black Friday, our busiest day of the year. Everyone comes in for coffee to keep warm and awake while they wait in line at electronics or toy stores or wherever else all the big sales are. I'm trying to mentally prepare for the day of craziness when I see a sleepy-eyed Em come in.

"Hey, Jane," she says. She yawns and walks to the break room to put her stuff away. She comes back up front and helps me arrange the chairs.

"Tired?"

She yawns. "Uh-huh."

"I'll go make some drinks to wake us up."

"Good idea."

"Have you tried the maple macchiato yet?" I ask.

"No, but I'll drink anything this morning. I need something to kick me into gear."

I step behind the counter and turn on the espresso machine. Derek comes out from his office and gives me a look.

"Jane, I need to see you," he says.

Shoot. He looks pissed. What could I have done now? I follow him back to his office and take a seat.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Well," he starts, "I don't want to take the word of one employee over another, but if there is something going on I need to stop it right now." I stare at him blankly.

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been doing well lately, Jane. Really."

"Okay ..."

He sighs heavily. "Are you giving out free drinks to your friends?" he asks.

"What?" I hope I sound shocked. "No, of course not!

Who would say that about me?"

"I really shouldn't say," he answers slowly, but instantly I know. It's that stupid middle-aged Botox-faced Daisy.

"Daisy told you that, didn't she?" I ask. Derek holds up both hands in protest.

"I really shouldn't say," he repeats, shaking his head from side to side.

"You don't have to," I say. "I know it is her–she is totally jealous of me. And how can you trust someone whose face doesn't move when she talks? You wouldn't even know if she's

Derek smirks at this, but then quickly goes back to stone-faced.

"Okay, like I said, I don't want to take one employee's word over another's. But if you are giving away free drinks, you need to stop immediately. It is grounds for dismissal."

"I'm totally not, Derek," I lie, but mentally promise myself to never do it again.

"All right," he says. "Go on back up front and finish setting up."

I nod and rejoin Em.

"Unbelievable," I say in a low voice when I'm within earshot of her.

"What?" she asks.

"I'm going to totally kill Daisy when I see her. She told Derek that I'm giving away free drinks to my friends."

"Omigod, what a witch.'" Em says. She stops refilling the cookie tray to look at me.

"Yeah, I can't believe she'd do that to me," I say. I twist my hair with my fingers.

"Especially when I've seen her giving away low-fat muffins to her Jazzercise friends.'" Em says.

"Jazzercise?" I giggle at the thought of Daisy dancing around a room with a bunch of women. "Yeah, I guess I can see that."

"Well, I know why she did it," Em says. "Why?"

"She wants your job."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. Daisy thought she should have been promoted to assistant manager."

"Why? I'm totally better than her and I've been here longer," I say.

Em shrugs.

"What a brat."

"You definitely have to put her in her place," Em says.

"I will," I agree. "For starters, I think someone should be on bathroom cleaning duty for at least the next month." Em nods and gives me a thumbs-up.

By five-twenty a.m., we're ready to open up the store.

"You still haven't asked me about Cam," Em says.

"I'm sorry, I meant to. What's going on?"

"Well," she tells me, her eyes lighting up, "he's taking me roller skating tonight! Can you imagine? I haven't been roller skating since I was like ten."

I smile. "That is so cute."

"Then he wants to go to a fifties restaurant for cheeseburgers and milkshakes."

"It sounds like you guys will totally have fun."

"Seriously, Jane," Em says, refilling the stack of cups by the register, "I didn't think this was a good idea at all, what with the whole Jason thing, but it has really made me feel better! And Cam is awesome. You are such a great Espressologist!"

"A what?" Derek appears behind us, fastening an apron around his back, preparing to help us with the expected crowd.

"Oh, um ..." Em stammers, looking back and forth between Derek and me. "Nothing?" I offer.

"No, I heard you guys. You said Jane is 'a great Espressologist.' What did you mean? What is an Espressologist?" I look down at the floor, shaking my head slightly, indicating to Em that I want her to keep her mouth shut. Em glances at me and then looks back at Derek.

"I'll tell you but you can't get mad at Jane. Because it's totally a cool thing."

"Em!" I warn.

"What's the big deal, Jane? It is so cool," she says.

"Now you are making me nervous. Start talking," Derek says.

"Well, like I said, it's really awesome," Em begins, and I sigh heavily, trying to prepare for another verbal lashing from Derek. "Jane has been keeping this notebook for a really long time. She records all the drinks people order and what type of person they are. It's kind of like she's typecasting people based on their coffee preference or something."

I inwardly recoil, closing my eyes and remembering how I had lied and told Derek my notebook was for my notes on drinks for the "Assistant Manager's Specialty Drink of the Week." I open one eye, turn my head, and glance at Derek. He's staring at me, obviously remembering our conversation. Crap, crap, crap.

"Now wait," Em says, seeing Derek starting to look huffy, "don't get mad yet. Here's the cool part. Jane calls it Espressology and she's been matchmaking people based on it!"

"Matchmaking people? Matchmaking whom?" Derek demands.

"Well, customers and staff mostly," Em says, now slowing down the story as she realizes Derek is less than pleased with the information.

"You are matchmaking now? While you're working?"

Derek asks, looking at me.

"Well, yeah, a little," I mumble.

"But she's amazing, Derek, I swear," Em interrupts.

"She's dead-on each time. It's totally crazy. Simone and Gavin, Sarah and the cop, Cam and me ... it's really cool."

Derek is still staring at me and I can't tell what he is thinking. Em knows that she is getting me in trouble and can't stop talking.

"Derek, seriously, you can't bloody well get mad at Jane. It has no negative effect on the store. I mean, if anything, it is improving business," she continues, waving her hands in the air. "Everyone wants to be in love and she's making it happen. She's making people totally happy and they love her for it. They are coming in even more for coffee. It's a good thing! Really ..." She trails off, and there is dead silence as we wait for Derek to say something.

Derek slumps against the sink with his arms crossed.

His face is scrunched up like he's thinking hard, and he stares straight ahead at nothing in particular. I have no idea what he's going to do next. He wouldn't fire me over this, would he? Well, he could. He's caught me lying, oh, I don't know, how many times now? Em is giving me a worried look. She mouths, "I'm sorry." We both wait for Derek's tirade to begin. About twenty of the longest seconds on earth pass and then the corners of Derek's lips turn up a bit.

"I'll be right back," he says, walking away from us.

"Em!" I scream when I'm sure he is out of the room.

"How could you do that to me?"

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry. I was just happy. And talking too much. And I really didn't think he'd get mad. I mean, c'mon, what's the big deal?"

I shake my head and frown. "What do you think he's doing back there?"

"I don't know. I'm really, really sorry, Jane."

"Do you think he's going to fire me on the spot?

Maybe he's getting my last check?" I ask.

"No, he'd be so screwed if he fired you. It's Black Friday and we're about to open."

"Still," I say.

"Jane, if he fires you, then I walk, too, and he's MAJORLY screwed. Let him serve the crazed Elmo 5000 seekers all by himself," she declares.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's totally my fault. I'm positive he won't fire you."

Just then Derek rejoins us up front with a piece of paper in his hands. Oh god, I think, this is it. He's giving me some kind of termination paper. He hands me the piece of paper. I take a deep breath and look down.

"What's this?" It says THE ESPRESSOLOGIST IS IN. "I don't get it."

"You are our holiday promotion," he says enthusiastically. "I don't get it," I repeat.

"It's simple. Corporate says I need to do a promotion to bring in more customers over the holiday season, and you, my little Espressologist, are it." I glance back and forth from Derek to Em trying to take in what he just told me.

Derek walks over to the front glass door and unlocks it, letting the ten or so waiting customers in to start screaming drink orders at us.

Hot, hot, freaking hot to me.