Rhapsody in Violet

Mocha Latte

Aldo’s POV

“Dude, did you hear me?” Tom, my fellow Barista, asks.

I’m in a bit of a daze, or rather, I’m hungover from partying with the guys after practice last night. The painkillers and coffee haven’t kicked in yet, so my head is thumping.

“Yeah, what was that again, man?” I grumble as I sip my second coffee of the day.

I inhale the rich aroma of my coffee before catching a sweet unfamiliar scent in the air…orchids, and something else, would be my guess. Gosh, I spend too much time with my mom and sisters. Why was I the only dude in the family besides dad? My parents were told their chances of conceiving even with in vitro were slim to none. Mom had had 3 miscarriages before adopting me and a few years later, Cicely, and then, BAM surprise! Mom got pregnant and carried Sidney to term. So we are kind of a patchwork family, but that is cool with me.

My birth parents died when I was 18 months old, and thankfully, the Reeds adopted me not long after. Mrs Reed had been my birth mom’s college roommate and was listed as my godmother, so things worked out well. Cicely is a year older than me and while we adopted her after me, her story was not nearly as seamless. They abandoned her as an infant. She was in the system for a bit before a family friend who is a social worker asked my parents if they wanted to adopt another kid.

I was 5 when her adoption was completed and then I had an older sister with a shy countenance and beautiful mocha skin. Which is so different from our fair skinned adoptive parents. My skin, like my birth mother’s, gets a warm golden glow when I can spend time outdoors, but I don’t do that often enough these days and it has become more creamy.

The youngest sister, Sidney, looks just like our mother, only with dad’s blue eyes (of course, she is their birth child so is most likely to have their looks). I brush my dirty blond curls back with my hand before securing them in a loose man bun and glancing at Tom, remembering that he had something about a new cashier.

“Dude, wait until you see this new cashier. She is one curvy Mocha Latte!” He smiles before we both head out front to start our shifts.

“Mocha Latte! Man, that is not the way you describe a woman. I might be a playboy, but that is just wrong!” I blurt before stopping in my tracks and spotting the beauty who is pulling on her apron and talking to our manager.

“Damn! Ok, you might be right,” I say.

“Tom, Aldo, get over here! I want you to meet Adia! She is our new cashier and once she is comfortable with the register, I would like you to cross train her with our other operations. Any Of you should be able to fill in for the others in the long run.” Our manager, Keith, calls out to us.

We both rush forward, and Tom smirks. “Can I get you a mocha latte, Adia?”

The dude is trying to be smooth. He’s been watching my moves with the ladies and thinks he has it down, but he’s falling flat. While she says yes to him, her eyes are roaming me…this girl is practically undressing me with those chocolate orbs of hers, and I don’t mind in the least.

It’s Thursday and my last shift at the coffee shop until Sunday. I spend most of it drinking in the flirtatious looks and comments from that lovely Mocha latte.

Yeah, Tom was being a pig when he said that, but he wasn’t wrong. The girl is seriously tempting, but I don’t f**k around with coworkers, so there will be nothing happening beyond a flirty friendship. By the end of my shift, I learn that Adia recently moved here with her mother and little brother. Though, the way she says “brother” is odd, like she is unsure if that is the term she should use. She hesitates every time that she uses the term. She just started classes at our local community college and does not know what she wants to major in.

I consider asking her to come see me play at my gig tomorrow, but I don’t want her to think it is anything more than friendly, so I don’t bring it up.

*********

Friday is here, and it has been one heck of a week. The guys in my band have been giving me s**t. Yeah, I am known as a playboy, but I am always really looking for my soulmate. I want a true love, but have yet to find a girl that is right for me. They only get more annoying when they get drunk. Thanks to their shenanigans and way too much alcohol, I have spent half of the week hungover. I still don’t have a girlfriend because I set myself rules about not going for coworkers, as cute as the new cashier is.

I am glad that tonight is a solo gig. It will be much more mellow than gigs with the guys.

My little sister is bringing a new friend from school who she said is gorgeous, although she doesn’t know their gender because they identify as nonbinary. I’m pretty liberal. One of my best friends from grade school is gay and does drag shows that I have gone to. I even let him dress me in drag at one party, but we won’t talk about that night and me waking up in high heels, drunk in the stairwell of my apartment building. But I imagine that Sid’s nonbinary friend has a hard time with dating. I mean, don’t people want to know what they are getting when they date someone?

Sid doesn’t care about people’s parts. Maybe she is on to something, but my brain is just stuck on the idea that falling for someone just to find out later they have a part you were not prepared for seems like it could lead to a lot of heartache. I don’t know why this has got my head spinning, maybe because it is a fairly new concept for me.

I pull on my favorite worn out jeans and slip into my white button down, leaving the top several buttons open and pull my converse all-stars on along with the shark tooth necklace Aiden and I picked up on spring break last year. We were digging the surfer vibe, and it looks good with this outfit. If only I still had the tan to go with it.

I fling my leather jacket over my shoulder and grab my acoustic guitar in its case, and head out to my gig.

The Nightingale Cafe is jam-packed tonight as I take the stage, setting myself on the stool center stage and adjusting the microphones.

“Good evening everyone! How are we all doing this evening?”

I pause for reaction and get applause and some whistles.

“In case you don’t know me yet, as I see some fresh faces in the audience, I am Aldo Reed, and I will perform for your acoustic pleasure tonight.”

My eyes gaze over the audience, catching glimpses of about half a dozen unfamiliar faces towards the back, but have to force myself not to gasp audibly at the beauty in the front, sitting between Sid and her bestie, Neville.