With feigned innocence, but only thinly so, I reply, “The papers? Why I must have forgotten to put them out. Slipped my mind, but don’t you worry Robert, I have them right here beside me. And I would be more than happy to give you one or both if you require, after I ring you up for them of course.” My smile has never been more sincere and full of spite in all my life. It is a struggle not to laugh. Poor Robert’s face is getting dark with increased ire and it’s the most beautiful image I’ve ever seen. I have him right where I want him and there is nothing he can do and this realization has left him floundered. He has no clue how to react. The veins in his neck start to bulge and his composure is completely blown.
“You little shit!” he roars, spit spraying onto my face.
Robert’s hands fly at me and I have a split second decision forced upon me. I could move back out of reach, but instead I remained planted and eagerly await the assault. Rough hands seize my shirt front and pull me forward inches from his distorted angry face. My smile grows wider and I wait for his anger to fully play out. I can see all the little lines around his bugging eyes. I can count the hairs sprouting between his two furious eye-brows.
Robert’s forehead moves back quickly and the next thing I feel is his head slamming into mine just above my nose. A flash of pain and the world is spinning. I see a hammed-sized fist filling my field of vision. My mouth explodes with fiery pain and I feel his knuckles scrape against my teeth. And still my smile never fades.
“Let go of him!” screams Liz.
Stacy yells, “Call security! Somebody call security!”
“Hey!” a customer walking through the door yells.
The fist comes back and says hello to the right side of my cheek. His other hand is forced to let go of my shirt as I fall back on my ass. I look up from my newly found seated position and my bloody grin is focused on Robert and his fading fury.
“Bravo! Bravo! My dear Robert, what an excellent show. Don’t forget to smile for the cameras!” I say as I point up to the camera located just above my head.
Robert has the look of a confused dog as he’s trying to work out what he’s just done and the consequences that are sure to come. He steps back until he bumps into the retail wall, he swings about and knocks off several coffee tumblers and they clang loudly into the silence. Metal crashing onto the floor by the tumbling tumblers is accompanied by the sound of my champion entering through the heavy double doors.
I stand up and smile at Chris the security guard, “My hero! There is the man that has assaulted me, could you please detain him until the police come so that I may press charges?” Never have I taken such pleasure in getting my ass kicked. Never has pain been so sweet to feel.
Robert’s look of the lost is gone and he’s calculating now on how to escape. I see him sizing up Chris and he’s probably thinking he’s got more than enough size to push Chris aside and flee. It appears Chris has had the same thought and out comes his baton to even up things.
“Just stay where you are sir,” Chris says as he grabs his radio and calls into the security office for a police officer to be sent over.
Robert says, “Like hell I’m getting busted over this shit!” And he grabs one of the bigger coffee tumblers off the shelf beside him and throws it at Chris. It whizzes through the air and misses Chris’s head by a few inches. Chris moves forward with two quick steps and swings his baton down with his whole body. The baton makes contact with the right side of Roberts left thigh with a satisfying thud. Robert’s leg buckles and he tries to catch his self with his left arm, but Chris reaches out and grabs the arm, pulling Robert down on his back with enough impact to knock the wind out of Robert. Chris reaches behind him, pulls out his handcuffs and slaps one on the wrist of the arm he’s still holding. Robert tries to suck in some breath and yanks down his arm with Chris still attached. Chris lands on top and struggles to get a grab on Robert’s free arm.
I look over at Liz, “Isn’t this simply fantastic?”
The girls seem to be less than amused. Stacy says to me, “You could’ve avoided this by just taking a break Jason. Does this make you happy?”
The smile that has yet to leave my face widens, “I couldn’t be more thrilled!”
Robert has managed to get to his knees with an attached Chris being swung around, limbs flailing about trying to restore balance. The man who came in just after the ruckus began is hopping back and forth on his feet, indecision clearly written on his face. The door bangs open and I see my true knight in shining armor coming in with a commanding step.
Robert is holding Chris face down on the ground when the police officer descends upon him with true authority. The officer’s nightstick comes down sharply on the meat between Robert’s shoulder and his neck. A high-pitched scream issues forth from Robert and the cop pins him down with a nice arm hold as he yells at Chris, “Young man! I need you to take that hand-cuff off your wrist!”
Chris is looking a little dazed from his thrashing. The cop is trying to maintain his grip on a still struggling Robert while trying to get Chris to uncuff his wrist. I walk over still smiling and say, “Here officer, let me help.”
The cop is taking in my battered face as I reach down to the dazed Chris and relieve him of his keys. The sight of me so close has riled up Mr. Robert and the cop is struggling to restrain him. Spit gurgles and sprays from Robert’s mouth in unintelligible syllables as I’m removing Chris’s wrist from the handcuff. “There you go officer,” I say.
The cop fully cuffs the enraged Robert and radios in for another unit to come by for assistance. Robert is screaming and I just keep on smiling as I tell the officer the tale of how I got head-butted in the face over today’s headlines.
Busted Up and Feeling Good?
“Your face looks like it’s healing nicely,” says the Flower Girl.
“Yeah, you can hardly tell a lunatic broke my nose just two weeks ago.”
The Flower Girl smiles and she replies, “Well, from what your co-workers say, you kind of deserved it.”
Indignation and self-righteousness battle for supremacy of my emotions as I respond, “Deserve? Did I not tell you the complete story? Have you not listened to the way he’s treated me for over a year?”
She interrupts in tones of exasperation, “Yes, yes, I’ve heard all about you being the victim in this situation.”
I open my mouth wide to begin a tirade on this topic when her hand clamps over it while her body presses against me and she quietly shushes me. Her hand moves away and our lips touch. Her kiss destroys every thought that was seeking to be expressed as all my being is focused on the sensation of her mouth upon my own. She is soft and slow with her kiss. Her body’s warmth spreads lovingly on my own. My arms wrap around her, keeping her tight against me while her hand finds its way through the hair on the back of my head to steer me in the way she prefers.
Her forehead tilts down softly connecting with my own, severing our kiss. Her eyes open and I see them in a double field of vision from such close proximity and she breathes, “Want to come back to my place?”
Her face nuzzles into the side of my neck as she slips down from her tip-toe position to her normal height and I reply, “How about we go to mine?”
Instantly her pliant body tenses and she meekly says, “I’d rather go back to mine. Is that okay?”
“Of course chica,” I say and try to smile reassuringly. I look down at her and she seems scared and I wish I knew why. The intimacy we were sharing but a moment ago is fraying at the edges and I desperately want to keep it from unraveling. Lightly grabbing her sides in my hands, I can feel the softness of her underneath the fibers of her thin woolen sweater. The curve of her hips pulls me in, absorbed by her perfection of form. Her doe eyes look up at me then back down demurely. I wish I had the words to spin to comfort her and make her feel safe. A nervous smile crosses her face and my heart is wounded from her hidden pain.
“Ready?”
She breathes out slowly and then forces a look of c
omfortable confidence and replies, “Yeah, I’m ready.”
Turning apart, holding her hand, I try to sound nonchalant as I change to a safe topic, “So, I’m going to be covering a shift tomorrow at a drive-thru store.”
She looks up at me and says, “Oh yeah? Have you ever worked in a drive-thru before?”
She doesn’t seem truly at ease yet, but I can tell she’s getting there so it’s with relief when I say, “No, but I’m excited. I think it’ll be a pretty neat experience. It’ll be new and different, which is cool.”
She looks over at me and I can tell she knows I’m trying to steer us to safe waters and ease her discomfort. Her soft little smile tells me more than she’ll ever say and I feel better about the rest of our afternoon together. She snuggles in close as I put my arm around her and we continue on our way to her place, her safe space.
“Thank you,” she says.
“For what?” I ask even though I already know.
She looks up at me and says, “For being you.”
I laugh a little and reply, “Well chica, that’s all I can be so I’m glad you’re happy with that.”
Her musical voice laughs a little in return and we walk the rest of the way to her place in companionable silence. We take the stairs when we get to her place because I feel like we’re going to die every time we take the elevator. The stale air has become familiar by now and the small space embraces us when we spend time together here. Lying next to me on the bed, she is all things female and mysterious. Her beauty seems to have been made especially for me and I’m looking into her eyes wondering what thoughts are flowing through her mind.
“Jason?”
“Yes?”
“How many girls have you been with?”
That was not one of the things I thought she might be contemplating, so I’m put off a little as a reply, “Been with how? Like, dated or....”
She sits up more and leans on an elbow when she says, “How many girls have you had sex with Jason?”
Her face is an unreadable mask to me and I can only respond with honesty, “Three.”
Her eyes open wide and immediately she is more energized than just a moment before as she leans forward quickly and grasps my upper arm and almost shouts, “Shut up! Three? I don’t believe you. Really, how many Jason?”
I laugh because I can tell she does believe me but I play along, “I’m telling you, three. I’ve only been with three girls. If you’ll recall, I get pretty nervous around you creatures. I’ve only had two girlfriends and I had a strange one-night stand a while ago. I know that’s weird these days, but I’m not embarrassed by it.”
“Embarrassed? Jason. That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I wish my number was that low.”
Now I’m a little intrigued about her so I ask, “Well, how many guys have you had sex with?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
Shock is clearly written on my face and I am outraged as I say, “You’re not going to tell me? You can’t ask me and then not tell me your own number. That’s now how this works chica.”
Her face looks a little surprised to see such a reaction out of me as I’m usually pretty subdued. She sits up and says, “Of course it does. A lady never kisses and tells.”
I laugh out loud and spring across the bed and pin her down underneath me and I smile as I say, “So now you’re a lady, huh? Since when did you become a lady?”
The Flower Girl squirms beneath me trying to escape and she says with staged indignation, “Why, good sir I’ve always been a lady and as one I demand you remove your oafish self from my person.”
I smile even bigger and then I lay down on her and kiss her gently.
“I don’t care what your number is.”
Her eyes moisten a little in the corners and she smiles almost sadly and says, “Oh, you’re so sweet.”
“Just tell me you’ve been tested.”
She laughs and pushes me off and says, “Of course I’ve been tested Jason and you can get right out of my bed Mister because we are definitely not going to be having sex now!”
“No surprise there. I’m beginning to think we’ll never have sex.”
She stops moving abruptly and looks at me with a truly hurt look and says, “Is that all you want from this?”
I only meant it as a joke, but some things just aren’t funny.
“Come on now. I’ve been with all of three girls. Sex is not my main motive in spending time with a girl. I like you and I was only kidding.”
She looks at me with her head cocked and the silence stretches on until her phone rings. The Flower Girl pulls her phone out of her pocket and looks at who is calling. Her face scrunches up a little and she says, “I’m sorry Jason but it’s one of my customers. You’ve got to go.”
Now it is my turn to feel a little hurt. This isn’t the first time her selling weed has forced me out. Her special selection of upper-middle-class middle-aged dads like to flirt with their cute little drug dealer and my presence ruins their fantasy.
I get up and walk to the door. I barely look over my shoulder and say, “I work really early in the morning tomorrow. I’m going to bed in about an hour. See you when I see you.”
“Jason—”
But I’ve already closed the door and I’m taking the stairs two at a time.
Please Pull Through
The weather is 76° and sunny. There’s not a cloud in the sky and the only indication the holiday season is upon us is the red cups I’m filling with steamed milk and espresso. The citizens of San Diego depend on us to let them know when the seasons are changing. Promotional beverages like the Pumpkin Spice Latte inform us we can start pulling our scarves and mittens out of the closet so we can pretend we’ve changed seasons like the rest of the country. The Peppermint Mocha, Gingerbread Latte and the most barista hated beverage of all time, the Eggnog Latte herald the coming of winter and the excitement of gifting others wonderful presents in the name of Jesus.
The leader of our lovely little company is Jewish, which means if you run with the less commercially exploitive traditions of Chanukah you can buy a pound of a little known coffee named Holiday Brew. If Santa Claus comes down your chimney receiving payment for everyone’s desires through stale cookies and room temperature milk, then you know this coffee as Christmas Brew. Like any good businessman our illustrious leader has put aside his personal religious stance in favor of making sure the masses have the opportunity to purchase their favorite coffee shop schwag, resplendent in Christmas revelry.
We carry all kinds of cups, tumblers, mugs and other merchandise. We’re not limited to just coffee. I’m sure you’ve seen the CD’s and DVD’s sitting alongside books and the Cranium game. During Christmas the amount of merchandise quadruples inside the stores. I never really minded selling the merchandise before today. But today I am working my first shift in a Drive-Thru store.
The concept of ordering and receiving food from the comfort of your car makes great sense I think for other fast food businesses. We deal almost exclusively in liquid, often hot liquid, which is easily spilled and not so easily passed through windows. Also, if I go to a Burger King drive-thru, I am limited to purchasing food items only because the BK doesn’t sell hamburger grills or French-fry makers. They sell food and only food.
You don’t see Brookstone or Bed, Bath & Beyond or Target opening up drive-thru stores. You are expected to physically walk into those stores to purchase the merchandise they offer. Today in my only shift working at a drive-thru, I have sold through the window a French Press, two coffee mugs, four tumblers, one drip coffee machine and much more. I’ve heard of drive-thru liquor stores in Texas and all I can say is its Texas, what do you expect? Purchasing coffee machines through a drive-thru window is ultimate laziness. I don’t think it was a coincidence all the people who bought retail merchandise through the window are easily classified as belonging to the obese populace.
“Convenience costs” is a turn of phrase I’ve often heard in associati
on with the price of an item in relation to the ease of which it can be obtained. I’m beginning to see a price for convenience being paid not in gold but in gluttony.
“I’ve got a tall two splenda latte for Jesse on the bar!”
“Can I get a sleeve for that?”
“Sure thing. Here you go and have a nice day.”
“What’ll it be today good sir?”
Frank or Fred, I’m terrible with names and have already forgotten his says to me, “Dude, these cats coming through the Drive-Thru are more relaxed man. They’re in their comfort zone by being in their own space man, their car. They’re sitting there in their pajamas and house shoes. These customers are relaxed and ready for fun. Check me out on this next order.”
“I’ll have a grande mocha with no whipped cream.”
“Awesome, would you like to try a chocolate biscotti with that?”
The little television screen shows us whoever’s at the speaker box. Customers are oblivious to the camera. In my first hour I saw three people pick their nose unaware I was watching from inside.
“No thanks, just the mocha please.”
“Hannah! I have your tall caramel blended coffee on the bar! Thank you!”
A beep sounds in our headsets alerting us that a car has pulled up to the speaker box. Frank/Fred says, “Hello there and welcome. Cobra Commander here, how can I help you?”
Through the box the customer laughs, “Well Cobra Commander, this is G.I. Joe and I want a grande caramel machiatto and I’ll be taking you in to base! Ha ha!”
Holding down the B button on the headset pack so only employees can hear him Frank/Fred says, “See he’s happy which is easier for me. But you try being silly like that to a lobby customer. Forget about it!” To the customer he says, “Alright Joe, pull forward to the window and try and bust me! Ha ha!”
“Is this mine?”
“Are you Hannah?”
The Dark Roast Page 9