Hell's Angel: Devil's Backbone (BK 2)

A.K.A. Bang

Alison's POV
(bellamysgirl)

Wouldn't it be nice if we were older, and we wouldn't have to wait so long? And wouldn't it be nice to live together in the kind of world where we belong?

The jukebox echoed Wouldn't it Be Nice by The Beach Boys across the café a bit after the morning rush. I'd say about eighty percent of customers gave their praise of the jukebox addition. Most others didn't seem to mind whether it was in or out. I glanced left. Mr. Grumpy was in his usual seat by the front, eyeing the street through the window. I sighed and finished wiping off a table, then headed to the counter.

It wasn't too incredibly slow. We were actually quite full up at the inn, though I think most people just wanted out of the heat. They bought the occasional drink or snack item but that was where today's afternoon/lunch sales began and ended. I tightened my ponytail holder as I arrived at the register and Mary shuffled over to me from the hot plate. She leaned into the empty counter beside me with an exhale. "It's so hot outside. I took out the trash and almost died," she puffed, overheated.

"Stand in front of the AC for a minute," I suggested, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "It'll cool you off. Take a break, yeah? You've been working hard all morning."

She stood upright. "Just earning my wages, boss."

"Well, I think you need a raise," I chuckled.

She widened her eyes a millisecond, like she wholeheartedly agreed, and left the counter to find an empty table. Just then, the bell of the door chimed and I glanced up. A tall woman in heels with a ginger ponytail effortlessly strutted across the Café and stepped up to the counter. "Good afternoon, welcome to Angel's. What can I get you?" I asked, plastering on my business smile.

She smiled back, clean and precise. "Good afternoon. I need two large Caramel Macchiatos to-go, please."

"Alright...would you like foam and syrup on those?" I asked, scribbling it on my scratch pad.

"Yes, please," she glanced around. "Is this place new? I haven't really been around this part of town before."

I tore off the note and sat it in front of the cash register, turned back to the woman and nodded. "Yeah, we just opened a few months ago."

"Oh, well, it looks great," she complimented, politely.

I nodded with a small smile. "Thank you. Oh, what's the name for the order?"

"Potts, P-O-T-T-S," she said, spelling it out. I wrote it down on the note and hurried over to the coffee machine. I was getting better at more exotic coffees, but they could still use some improving. Is there like a coffee makers and baristas of America union of some kind? There really should be.

I filled the two to-go cups and topped off with the foam and drizzled syrup, then hoofed the drinks to the front counter. "Potts?" I called. The ginger haired woman was over at the jukebox looking around when I finished. She snapped to attention as soon as I'd spoken and hustled over to the counter. "Here you are, and that'll be seven dollars even."

She reached into her purse with a thoughtful expression. "Wow, that's actually cheaper than Starbucks," she commented. And then she joked, "Should I be scared?"

I chuckled. "Not usually."

She laughed a little too as she finally unearthed her bill fold. Her fingers sifted a second, and then she pulled out a newer-looking ten dollar bill and held it out to me. "Keep the change," she said, as I took the ten. She picked up the drinks and I paused. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's no problem," she smiled.

"Alright, thank you. Have a nice day—enjoy the coffees."