M&L

Coffee Mojo

There is no place like New York, the busy streets, the people in suits bumping into you without even apologizing, the smog polluting your lungs and choking since morning, the frenetic klaxons due to the heavy traffic.

I breathe in and smile. Yep, I love my city, what I like less is to be awake on a Sunday morning and having to take the metro. Granted Sunday mornings are less busy and crowded, it still sucks to be 5'2 and have your nose stuck into a stranger's armpit. I stop at a nearby Starbucks and take out my badge when I glimpse at the line. No way I'm waiting, I've gotta a special pass given to me by the government of the United States itself.

I push a couple of people while squeezing my way to the front of the line, ignoring the loud protestations and interrupt the guy next to me that was about to order his coffee.

"A latte, with caramel, extra foam, extra hot please," I order quickly. The girl (Stacey, that's what her tag says) furrows her eyebrows puzzled and offers to the client that I just surpassed an apologetic smile.

"Excuse me, ma'am, I'm afraid you're going to have to wait in line, like everybody else," she explains to me gently. I smile condescendingly and take out my badge before rubbing it in her face.

"This is an emergency; now can I have my damn coffee or what?" I question irritated. I told you, I'm even worse than a Fury when I haven't got my shot of caffeine, and if you think one cup is enough you are clearly mistaken. Stacey nods vigorously, and her short ponytail bounces up and down while she walks away to prepare my coffee. I lean against the counter with a content sigh before someone taps me on the shoulder with his index.

Annoyed I turn around, only to glare at a younger version of Brad Pitt. I mean, you see a lot of hotties in New York, especially in my line of work, but this guy is on a whole other level, and he's human.

"Excuse me, but you just skipped the line, I'd really appreciate it if you could at least apologize," he says very calmly with a charming smile and...yeah, he does have two perfectly cute little dimples. For a moment, I don't answer, my jaw still trying to get back up, after having been cruelly dropped to the floor.

"I...I don't think this is any of your business," I reply meekly. Brad Pitt junior smiles again, before scratching his chin with a cute frown.

"Well, you interrupted me while I was ordering my coffee, so it kind of is my business," he informs me with that same flat and neutral voice. I look at Stacy who seems to be struggling with the espresso machine.

"Well, she's almost done, and then I'll be gone," I say cheerfully. Brad Pitt junior glares at Stacey skeptical.

"With all the respect, officer, I haven't asked you to hurry up, I asked you if you could kindly apologize to all those people," he contradicts me, and this time, even his charm can't save him from my wrath, not without coffee.

"I have no explanation to give you," I spit vehemently. Brad Pitt junior arches a disappointed eyebrow. Internally, I'm drooling, externally, I'm standing my ground (even though I'm wrong).

"Again officer, I don't want an explanation, just an apology," he states simply while crossing his arms over his chest, his chiseled biceps bulging under the sleeves.

"Well, you ain't getting none," I reply in a sing-song voice, and I'm about to show my tongue when I realize how childish my actions are.

"Listen..." Brad Pitt junior waits for me to give him my name and when I don't he sighs before continuing.

"Lady...I don't mean to offend you, but I really doubt that this badge was given to you for the purpose of skipping lines, honestly I'm just asking for an apology, that's all," he tries to reason me with an intent stare that makes him squint his eyes slightly, revealing a couple of wrinkles at the corner of them.

"Are you questioning an officer?" I ask on the defensive. Brad Pitt junior arches an eyebrow.

"Honestly, I wonder what kind of officer would react like that. And you seem a bit too young anyway," he argues and that's what sets me off. Never insult the badge, never.

"Slow down cowboy, are you accusing me of something here?" I spurt out irritated. Brad Pitt junior shakes his head, more amused than threatened.

"I'm not accusing you of anything, I'm just wondering why would someone give a badge to a girl as young as you, and clearly still too immature to handle the responsibilities that come with it," he apologizes with a genuine smile. But that doesn't sound like an apology to me, frankly, it's quite insulting considering I got shot yesterday for doing my job. And now this guy calls me a poser? I'm not about to let that slide.

"I don't who you think you are, but I am an agent, and I've earned that badge, I'm not about to let some punk question the legitimacy of my position. So why don't you get back in line and wait for your turn like everyone else, then afterward you can thank me for risking my life every day for some ungrateful bastard who doesn't know his place. You want an apology, why don't you give me one," I retort dryly, before turning my attention back to Stacey, who is anxiously waiting, my coffee in her hand and a troubled expression on her face, I don't even wait for Brad Pitt junior to reply.

"Thank you," I tell Stacey while grabbing my coffee before abruptly spinning around to reach the door. Unfortunately, I bump into a wall, a colossal wall made of abs and pecs, as strong as steel. My hand instinctively clenches around the cup and the coffee spurts around, the burning brown liquid splashing Brad Pitt junior's face, his green shirt, as well as my shoes and my grey trainer pants. There is a second of silence during which I stare at my masterpiece completely stunned. Brad Pitt junior blinks and coffee drips from his incredibly long eyelashes and down the bridge of his straight sculpted nose.

"I'm sorry?" I hazard, certain that he is about to yell at me. Brad Pitt junior wipes the coffee from his face and shakes his hand to free it from any residue of the burning liquid. He offers me a forced smile.

"Apology accepted," he answers, surprising me.

Then I realize what he means, he is mocking me, taunting me with the realization that I've just given him the apology he's been asking for. And it doesn't matter that I've skipped the line and rudely interrupted the guy, or that I argued with him even though he was right, or that I just poured my coffee on him and generally probably ruined his day, I just hate not having the last word. And, I just spilled my coffee, which means I am mourning and yearning my daily dosage. So maybe, I'll admit, that I'm not thinking very clearly when I take my cup and pour what's left of my coffee over the guy's head. A few gasps accompany my gesture, and a few disapproving glares accompany the gesture that follows, which involves my middle finger raised in his face.

"How is that for an apology?" I mock him before walking out. Seriously, kid those days, they have no patience at all. I mean couldn't he just have waited for his turn?