The Barista

Three: First Tea

Mr. Hoover comes in to pick up 2 boxes of hot coffee and a dozen donuts every Monday. He is some sort of white collar company intern, but it seems like he's more of a waterboy for his superiors. He's always frazzled, always double-checking his order thirty times over, so I know someone gives him grief if it's wrong. I can assume a lot about his boss just from the sort of donuts he gets for his employees, and from Mr. Hoover's panicked double-checks. Nobody who cares about their employees buys our donuts. Our prices are the cheapest in the valley. Mr. Hoover's boss buys donuts to feel like someone who would do that for his employees. But I know, and probably Mr. Hoover knows, that there's nothing behind the gesture. That's why–

"Hey, your break is up." Rico was scowling, standing in the doorway of the small backroom. "And there's someone waiting out there. I really need you to step it up a notch, Ivy. We can't afford to pay people to sit around and journal."

Ivy looked at the small digital clock on the ancient office desktop in front of her. She still had five minutes.

"Right, sorry." Ivy snapped her book closed and stood, tying her apron back around her waist. She had braided her mousy hair into a thick line down her back. The rain had made it frizz up horribly, though it was always sort of like lately. It had been a while since Ivy had spent more than a passing thought on how she looked. If she dwelled on it too long, it made her sad. She was sure there had been some time in her life when she made effort to dress stylishly, do her makeup, paint her nails. Now she was lucky if she was ever in anything but uniform or pajamas.

The dining room was empty that day, the weather pleasant enough that nobody was being held hostage waiting for rain to let up. A young man in a dress shirt and office pants was standing examining the cakes. He was about Ivy's height - short. Professional looking, with a shiny silver watch and black cape-coat. Maybe he was lost.

"Hi. Just a black tea, please."

"Are you sure?" Ivy wasn't sure why she had asked it. Maybe because he looked so professional, and their tea was so, well, watery.

"Yes. A black tea."

"Right, sorry." She turned around and set to brewing. Her mind drifted to Rico, how she had taken her five minutes early from her break. Ivy always looked forward to the days when only her and Sasha worked, or when Jean would be on instead of Rico, and things could run smoothly without her nagging. Rico could be a real hammer.

"That'll be one-seventy five."

The café had two distinct patron groups - regulars, and people who stopped in to use the restroom. This man broke those schemas. He was new, and far too clean-shaven to come back. Ivy felt a little guilty pushing the watery tea towards him.

"Thanks." His hand graced over the tip jar, dropping in a few bills and some coins. Ivy struggled to hide the hunger on her face at the sight. She was the only one working up front that day - that money was hers to pocket.

"Uh, thank you sir!"

She thought she saw him turn a smile as he left, his slick black hair falling over his forehead. He was gone as soon as he came.

-

The weather had significantly improved since yesterday's shift, but it didn't make being left to wait any easier, and this time there was no Sasha to check in on her. The shop was right on the corner of a busy intersection, tucked back in a parking lot with an urgent care, a deli, and a smoke shop. The other three were all closed. The only car in the lot was a beat down van, which Ivy was pretty sure someone lived in. She saw it parked there most nights. Sometimes the woman who lived in it came in for water.

Eren's pickup rolled up an hour and a half after Ivy's shift ended. She was slow to stand, almost having fallen asleep on the curb, and her lips were damn near blue. It may not have rained, but the chill in the air was the same.

"Hey." Her voice was tense as she lifted herself up and in. She let a beat go by, a chance for Eren to defend himself. "I got off work almost two hours ago."

Eren didn't say anything. His brown hair was down loose, disheveled and a little greasy. Ivy thought he smelled faintly of alcohol, and he wasn't in his work clothes.

"Did you come here from work?"

"I got fired."

Ivy's eyes went a little wide. She didn't take her eyes off Eren, and Eren didn't take his eyes off the road. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"What do you mean what happened? You always do this, Ivy, you're always probing me, why can't you just support me? Didn't it cross your mind I don't want to be interrogated after I just lost my job?"

The silence felt like loud TV static. A traffic light washed Eren's face in warm red light, his boyish brows tense and low. There was no getting through to him when he was like this.

"Sorry." That was all she said.

Another beat passed before Eren raised his hand and hit the steering wheel in frustration. Ivy had seen him go through a couple jobs since they'd met and dated and broke up, but this was the most promising to lead to something else. She kept watch of him out of her peripheral, but he stayed still after the outburst, one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing his temple.

"There's a job fair. I could go with you, if it would help." The words fell out of her mouth before she considered them. Ivy had been doing everything in her power to limit her time around Eren, but he had been doing her a lot of favors lately, driving her to and from work almost every day.

He took a moment to reply. "When?"

"Sunday. I could go with you in the morning. I could print out your resume on the work computer tomorrow and we can hand them out."

"Alright." He moved both hands back to the steering wheel. "Alright, it's a deal."