Food Courting

Chapter 2: Battle of the Beverages

Day one of the Coup D'é-Tea

It was the dawn of a new age, an era where coffee shops would be seen as more than just a haven for hipsters and suppliers for caffeine junkies. Gone were the days people would turn their noses up at "overpriced sugar milk" and "overrated latte art." No longer would the world look down upon baristas and their minimum wages, especially those forced to wear flat caps like kids selling newspapers during the Great Depression.

Now, Cora was going to war, armed with her trusty portafilter and steam wand. Well, her company's portafilter and steam wand, but she knew how to wield them. And no one was going to stand in her way.

Luckily, there were plenty of coffee lovers in the food court the next day, and their chatter over the whirring blenders drowned out Angie the Orange's singsong battle cries from enemy territory. That was more than enough to get Cora in the zone.

First, she focused on the milk, frothing just enough for a couple lattes as she glanced at the orders screen above her. Scratch that, one tea latte and two cappuccinos—a little more foam wouldn't slow her charge.

As the milk steamed, she went to take a shot at the enemy—or rather, pull espresso shots for the drinks. The clicks of the espresso grounds dispenser was rhythmic, and she followed it up with gentle chimes from the powder hammer clinking against the portafilter. The espresso machine whirred as liquid gold flowed into the glasses. In the background, the steamer hummed, and Cora drummed paper cups against the steel counter, ready to jump into action.

The machine clicked; the shots were done. The milk was a few degrees shy of a hundred fifty. Go.

She stopped the steam and slipped the shots into the cups. Splashes of milk kept the espresso alive, followed by a pump of chocolate syrup in one—mix, mix, mix—more milk, then dollops of perfect, fluffy foam.

Finally, the most important battle: the handoff.

"One Earl Grey tea latte for Michael!" Cora called, activating her secret weapon: her own melodic battle cry, sweeter than any tangy orange could ever be. "One regular and one mocha cappuccino for Linda!"

Following that up with her pristine smile and a charming "have a nice day," and two more patrons left Cool Beans happy.

Dang, she was good at this.

"Order for Charlotte!" a powerful, husky voice filled the bustling food court.

Cora managed to hide her grimace behind the espresso machine just in time, and she peered between the Cool Beans customers and across the fluorescent-lit battlefield.

Deep in enemy territory, Farron was winning a battle of her own. As always, Fruitastic was crowded with customers, but that didn't seem to faze Farron the slightest as she passed a tray of smoothies to a patron with her usual borderline grimace and halfhearted nod. She was already headed back to the blenders before the customer even left the handoff counter, as if she wasn't worried about being scolded for her subpar service. Oh right, who would scold her? Farron herself? In a mirror? While drying her tears with her assistant manager paycheck?

For two infuriating years, Cora could only watch from across the food court as Farron received one undeserved perk after another. When the assistant manager took an extra long lunch break during a rush, was she publicly humiliated by her boss? Of course not; she was even allowed to take a nap in full uniform, and she could snore. She strolled into work late without a care in the world? That was fine—she even got a surprise birthday party thrown in her honor, shutting down business for a full hour. She closed up early so she and the other sour fruits could watch a movie together? Why not, they even took the store's leftover granola to snack on.