Before I WAKE: A Becoming LUNA Novel

4

Training the Cat was fine, but I quickly realized that I had a ton to learn about coffee. Josh started by going over the basics, how coffee should be ground just prior to brewing as the grinding increases surface area which means more of the bean will be exposed to air. “Air is the enemy of good coffee,” he said. He also showed me how to properly “pull” a shot of espresso. And I learned that shots are “pulled” because on old machines you literally had to pull a lever. “A proper shot will take about thirty seconds,” he said.

I watched as the two tiny streams of steaming liquid pooled into the latte mug waiting beneath. Josh looked at his watch. “Thirty-three seconds. Not bad, Vida. Not bad.” Josh swirled the mug around and explained that when espresso is pulled properly, it forms its own frothy cream on top. “It’s called crema or as I like to call it, ‘liquid yum.’ Here at the Cat, we strive to preserve it.” He showed me how to pour the steamed milk so that the crema rose to the top of the mug instead of getting all mixed in.

“Now, I won’t name names, but at some coffee shops, they don’t care about the crema and will just dump the milk in and top it with a dollop of foam, like that’s what a latte should be,” he said. He held the mug up for me to taste. “It’s not. This is what a latte should be.”

We went over how to make a few more drinks before he showed me how the fridge and back room were organized and then had me stock the pastry and juice cabinets. Eva, the other barista on duty, said she was heading back to wash up a rack of mugs. “Just holler if anyone comes to the register,” she said.

At one point, I was bent over the display cooler, restocking a bunch of Naked juice bottles when I heard someone clear her throat. “Excuse me, Miss?” she said.

I turned around to see a girl dressed from head to toe mostly in black. She had a cashmere Burberry scarf around her neck and a pair of Chanel sunglasses on her head. She tapped her toe and looked at me. “I’ve been waiting here for like two minutes,” she said. Her nostrils flared just slightly. I tried not to laugh. Apparently the devil wore Burberry, too.

“Oh, hold on just a minute and I’ll get someone to help you.” I stood up and wiped my hands on my apron.

“Why can’t you serve me?” she asked. “You do work here, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. But I’m new. Brand new, actually. Just hang on one moment,” I said trying to turn and go back to the kitchen to grab Eva.

“I just want four coffees and one 160 degree half-caff oat milk latte with one and a half Splendas in a go-cup,” she said. “It’s not complicated.”

Not complicated, my ass. The coffees I could do since all I needed were some mugs. But I didn’t even know where to begin with the latte. “Okay, just let me grab my supervisor and she’ll be happy to help you.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Fine. But be quick about it, will you?”

I popped back to the dish room to grab Eva. “Bitchy girl, blonde hair, big sunglasses, all in black?” she asked.

“Yup, that’s her.”

Eva groaned. “I’ll be right out.”

I didn’t want to return to the counter without Eva because I was afraid that the girl would ream me. But there was no reason for me to hang around the tiny, steamy dish room either.

“She’ll be right here,” I said as I started back out behind the counter. “But I can grab those mugs for you.” I stopped when I noticed that the girl was gone and standing in her place was some guy. He was looking away, but as I approached he turned toward me. He was tall, at least 6 foot to my 5'5" (on a good day. in heels) and wearing a simple button up shirt with the sleeves rolled and dark jeans. I almost stopped in my tracks when I met his gaze. He had the most piercing blue eyes I’d ever seen, like if you looked too hard, it might actually be possible to drown in them. Okay, maybe not drown but get lost at least.

 Of course, I recognized him immediately. I’d seen him and his friends at the Cherry Street Bistro, or rather he’d caught me staring at them. Twice. He didn't look quite so angry this time, but he definitely had an intenseness to his eyes. The way he looked at me kind of gave me the creeps, if I'm being honest. Like he was looking at a massive porterhouse steak. Maybe that's just his face. I took a deep breath. I might remember him, but the odds of him remembering me were slim. Okay, negligible. In fact, I could have smacked myself for thinking for a fraction of a second that he could possibly remember me, which was supposed to be a relief, but somehow it didn’t quite feel like one.

“You’ll have to excuse Addy,” he said. “She’s not very patient.”

I hoped I hadn’t been gaping again, but with my luck I probably was. “No problem,” I managed to say. “It’s my fault. I’m new here.”

“I could tell,” he said. His eyes softened as he smiled and c****d his head to the side as if he were trying to counter-balance the slight crookedness in his grin.

“Oh. Am I that bad?”

“No,” he nodded toward my apron. “Your name tag is a temporary one."

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Observant.”

“Well, that and it says, ‘Please be patient, I’m still learning.’”

“Right.” I gave myself another mental smack-down. “So… coffees?”

“Yeah, four mugs for coffee and Addy’s latte,” he said, pulling out his wallet. As I turned to reach for the mugs, Eva came hustling out of the dish room, balancing a rack of them on her hip.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she said. “Right behind you.” She slammed the overfilled bin on the counter. “That is the last time I try to wash every dirty mug at once.”

I grabbed four of the warm, freshly cleaned and dried mugs from her rack and I handed them to him. 

“I’m Pete, by the way.”

“Pete,” I repeated.

“And you’re… Vi?” he asked. I looked at him in amazement wondering how he knew my name. He nodded toward my apron again. “Your, uh, name-tag,” he said.

“Oh, right. Good to meet you, Pete. Enjoy the coffees. Or coffee. Singular. Since you’ll probably just drink one of them. Or maybe you’ll refill the mug, which is why we call it bottomless, in which case, enjoy the coffees, plural.” My head was screaming at me to just. Shut. Up. But my mouth wouldn’t listen.

As he walked away I noticed the toes of his sneakers peeking out beneath his jeans. I smiled and spun around to see Eva grinning back at me. “So now you’ve met Pete,” she whispered. “He is quite the hottie, huh?” She looked over my shoulder and watched as he filled the mugs.

“What if he hears you?” I said.

“What if he does? He’s hot.”

“I hadn’t really noticed,” I said. I watched as he took a sip from the coffee cup. He held it close to his nose like he was savoring it. As if he were starring in some kind of cheesy Folgers commercial.

“Liar.” She grinned. “Your face is beet red.”

“Really?” I reached up to feel my cheeks, which were as warm and flushed as if I’d just run a a mile. “Oh jeez.”

“It’s those eyes, right?” Eva said. “Who could resist?”

“Does he come here often?” I asked. I moved to help her restock the shelf with the supply of newly clean mugs, keeping one eye on him as he fixed his coffee and took another sip.

“Never used to, but the past few months, they’ve all been coming around more.”

“All of who?” I asked.

“You know, the preppies.”

“You mean the private school?” Why did everyone make a big deal about them?

“Yup. Renascor. Spoiled rich kids and whatnot,” she said. “They used to be pretty reclusive but apparently they’ve suddenly decided it’s okay to engage with us mere mortals. Hey, will you go grab the rack of glasses from the back. I swear it’s not as full as this one was.”

I grabbed the rack she requested and hobbled back out front, trying to simultaneously balance it and not trip over my own feet or the rubber floor mat behind the counter. I set it on the counter and together Eva and I unloaded the clean glasses. A customer approached the counter so Eva turned to ring her up. “Perfect timing,” she said to me when the customer ordered a cappuccino. “I’m going to show you how to steam and froth milk.”

 Just a few minutes after I’d learned the art of foaming milk— and it really is an art— I heard a girl clear her throat. “Um, excuse me,” she said. I turned to see Addy standing at the register. “I’d like another latte, please.”

I looked to Eva. She walked over and then said the words I was dreading, “Vi would be happy to make that for you.”

“Um, okay,” I stammered. I tried to remember the steps as I grabbed a pitcher and a gallon of milk.

“That’s whole milk. She asked for oat milk, so use that,” Eva corrected. She grabbed the carton of oat milk and I returned the whole to its place on the fridge shelf.

“This better be non-dairy” Addy chirped.

I put the pitcher on the counter and poured in some milk, hoping I’d estimate the amount correctly. “Good,” Eva said. She handed me a thermometer and I dropped it in the side, raised the pitcher to the wand and turned it on. The screeching was horrible. I tried to pull the pitcher off the wand like I’d seen Eva do, but apparently I did it too fast and milk exploded everywhere. It was all over me, Eva, the gaggia, even the chalkboard menu above us was splattered with oat milk. I was mortified. It was only my first day and already I’d pulled a total bonehead move. I looked at Eva, afraid she would be angry. There were tiny little puffs of foam in her curls and her face was smeared with droplets of milk. She looked at me and started cracking up. I couldn’t help but laugh, too. So it was a stupid move, at least it was just oat milk.

“Good thing you’d just started steaming it,” Eva said between gasps. “If that had been hot, I would so not be laughing.”

“Um, excuse me?” Addy said. “I’m still waiting on that latte, you know. And you’d better not use that milk.” She crossed her arms.

“Oh, sorry,” Eva said. “We’ll get right on it. Vi here is new and still training so we appreciate your patience.”

Eva grabbed a new pitcher and started to steam some milk for Addy’s latte while I started cleaning up my mess. Who knew ten ounces of milk could do so much damage? I wiped down the counter and dabbed the dribbles that were within my reach off of the chalkboard. I turned back toward the register to search for rogue milk splatters and saw Pete walking up, stopping right next to Addy. I kind of wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

 “What happened here?” he asked, looking to Addy and then to me. I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling the damp spots, which served as a reminder that I was still covered in sticky oat milk.

“Oh, uh as you know, I’m new,” I said. “So that entitles me to be an assclown at least a few times.”

He flashed that crooked smile again. “Well, if you’re gonna do it, go all out I guess.” He turned to Addy. “Hey, you want to get that latte to go? We gotta be back soon and Colton needs to stop by the drug store.”

Addy shot me a look. “Did you get that?” she asked. Maybe she noticed something in the way I was looking at Pete because she tucked her arm in Pete’s and put her hand on his chest. “We have to go,” she said.

 I looked away abruptly, like I’d accidentally witnessed what was intended to a private moment, though I was certain her intention was to be anything but private. Message received loud and clear.

I grabbed a paper cup and handed it to Eva, who had already pulled the shot for Addy’s latte into a latte mug. She poured the espresso from the latte mug into the go cup instead of re-pulling it as Josh had instructed. Apparently, Eva didn’t give a crap about Addy’s crema because she dumped the milk into the cup without taking care to preserve anything.

She winked at me as she popped the lid on. She turned around to Addy. “Here you go,” she said, slipping a sleeve on the cup before she handed it to Addy. “Sorry about the wait. It’s on the house.”

Addy unhooked her arm from Pete’s and took her latte. “Thanks,” she said. She gave us a catty half-smile. “Let’s go,” she purred to Pete.

“Ladies,” he said, nodding his head slightly. I swear his eyes lingered on me for a beat too long. But that's probably just wishful thinking.

           Eva and I watched them walk away, through the café and out the main doors. “Man, that is one lucky b***h,” Eva said.

           “Who, Addy?”

           “Yeah. And I do mean b***h. Could she be any meaner?”

           “Maybe she’s just having a bad day,” I offered, even though I knew it wasn’t even remotely true. “Well, do we have any paper towels or anything? I should probably clean up the rest of the mess I made.” 

           Eva handed me a roll. “I’ll go get the mop,” she said.

While we were cleaning I decided to make small talk, something I generally sucked at. “So, you’re graduating next spring, right?” She nodded. “Do you know what you’re doing next year?” I asked. I knew futures plans questions were almost always a safe bet, a sort of common ground among graduating students. Personally, I’d hated it when people asked me but for some reason, that didn’t stop me from asking Eva.

“I’ve applied to grad programs at Colorado State and a small arts school in Ohio, near Cleveland. It’s totally random I know.”

“Random can be good,” I said.

“Yeah. Well, everyone wants to make a big deal about graduating. I’m kind of ambivalent. It’s nice that the end is in sight but there's just more coming down the pike.”

“I totally get that,” I said. I was quiet for a bit. I’d already run out of ideas for what to talk about. “So, are you dating anyone?”

She was silent. 

“Too personal? Sorry,” I said. Stupid me, I’d moved in too fast. Yet another reason why I hated being social. I was no good at it.

“No, it’s not. I’m just not, that’s all,” she said.

“Oh. Are you looking or just ambivalent about all that, too?”

She stopped mopping. “It’s complicated. I don’t really want to start anything because what if it gets serious and then I have to peace out at the end of the summer, you know?”

“Totally.” As a confirmed single gal, I hadn’t even considered such obstacles. But what she said made perfect sense.

“It would be nice to have someone to hang with, but I’m not really the type to date casually,” she said. I threw the milky paper towels in the trash and washed my hands in the sink.

 “What about those Renascor guys? Do you know any of them?” I asked. I hoped she wouldn’t see straight through me. Not that I really had an agenda. Just curiosity.

“Not really, but it sure would be nice,” she said. She chewed her lip and looked at me for a moment, like she was considering something. Or maybe me. “Listen my friend Becky got an invite to a special party they’re having in few weeks. On a Friday night.”

“Who’s having?”

“Some Renascor guys, apparently. Becky can’t go because her family is going to Napa for a wedding, but she gave me the invite card and told me I should go in her place.”

“Sounds like fun,” I said. Maybe her dating prospects weren’t a total wash.

“So you’ll come?”

“Whoa. What?” I’d missed a step.

“Well, most of my friends already have boyfriends or love interests. It’s invite only and I’m supposed to bring a friend.” She grabbed a milk crate and climbed up to the chalk menu board to wipe down the section I’d splattered with milk. There were a few menu items she’d need to rewrite. “I mean, if you don’t want to go it’s cool. I just thought I’d ask.”

“No. Sure. I’ll go.” It wasn’t like people were beating down my door with invitations. I should take what I could get, right? New beginnings and all. Plus, maybe the guy with the eyes, Pete, would be there. But then again, maybe Addy would be there, too.

“Really? That’s great!” She beamed.

“Yeah, what the heck? I haven’t been to a party in eons.”

“Me neither. And parties around here are pretty lame.”

“Let me guess, a bunch of kids standing around someone’s basement or backyard sipping Boone’s Farm or Keystone Light from paper bags?”

“Right? That pretty much sums it up.”

“Well, that kind of thing is not unique to Weber Grove, I’m afraid. That’s pretty much the universal sign for ‘underage party.’ So how do you know this party won’t be like all the others?”

“Well, how many Boone’s Farm fests have printed invitations and an exclusive guest list?”

“Point taken,” I said. Printed invitations? What the hell kind of party was this? A wedding?

Eva pointed to the register to alert me to the fact that we had a customer. He just wanted a mug of coffee, which was easy enough. And I was even able to ring it up myself.

“You just served your very first customer all by yourself,” Eva said. “Congratulations.” She rolled her eyes and we went to work, finishing the milk clean-up and crossing more tasks off our list.

“By the way,” Eva turned to me and kept her face firm. “That night my name will be 'Becky.'”

Um, okay. But why would she need a fake name for a college party? It was just a party, right?