In A Perfect World | Novella

Chapter Two

Twisting my dark auburn hair into a tight claw clip, I rushed my way out into the register where Dylan, my manager, waited for me. His thick black-framed glasses droop low on the bridge of his nose as he struggles to froth the milk with one hand. I cringed at the sight of the long line.

"What the hell, took you so long?" Dylan whispered, afraid for the customers to hear his disdain even over the loud hiss of the machines.

"Sorry, the traffic was really on a high and I couldn't find a good space to park and then this bird shat on my-"

"You know what, I don't care. I really don't care. Just man the register and take orders. Abby will be back from her break soon."

I nodded at him and quickly got to work. So it went. Greet, order, request. Then so on. The line reeked of over-ambitious prospects looking for their big break here in LA - like most crowds usually are around here. Some of them intend to actually get some caffeine in their system as they try to write their next big manuscript while others fish out producers or even casting directors if they're lucky. Speaking from experience and seeing it happen to countless others - not once had that tactic ever been successful.

That's exactly why I'm here. While the sun is setting beautifully into purple hues and pink skies, I'm standing here trying to take dramatically long orders from a group of girls who had their phones up to their faces the whole time. Still, with no judgement, I took their order. All the while squinting at the gleaming sun as I turn back, now, finding Abby manning the other coffee orders.

"Oh thank God, you're back." I sighed, relieved at seeing the line finally cease and the orders beginning to disappear.

Abby laughed, shaking her head as she placed a lid on an order.

"You guys cannot live without me whatsoever," she says, teasing Dylan who only rolled his eyes.

It's true. I might only have been working here for a week at this corner shop cafe just outside Hollywood Boulevard but I've already seen enough drama around here for a lifetime. Without Abby, this shop would definitely fall apart. Dylan will never admit it seeing that he is the manager, but he knows it more than anyone.

"Busier than usual eh?" She swept her pink highlighted fringe away from her face before calling out some named order.

"Well, it is a Sunday," Dylan argued.

"Yeah, I know but like I mean for a Sunday, it's unusually busy," Abby added and I agreed.

To be honest, it is always busy here. But today, more so than usual. All the tables were taken, more people walked in, our syrup pumps were almost halfway done despite us still having a few hours left to serve. Something is in the air today I suppose because otherwise, it wouldn't be such a full house. So, instead of standing around while no one was ordering, I headed to the machines, helping out with the orders as much as I could.

Perfect whipped creams, good latte art, and heating up pastries just the right temperature to be enjoyed.

"So, how's college going for you little Ivy?" Abby asked, her nickname cutting through. She's only a few years older than me, and I don't know why she feels obligated to call me little. "Any luck with your demo submissions?" she added and I huffed.

"Ugh, don't even remind me. I'm actually holding off on that for a while," I admitted.

You see, I'm more than just a college-level psychologist. Like everyone in this God-forsaken city, I have a dream of going big. Making it as a musician of some level no matter how small. It's been a dream of mine since I first came out of my mother and despite all the stress and rejection it caused me, I continue to dream of it. What is it about me continuing things that I know will hurt? Am I a masochist like that?