A Room With A View

Chapter Eight - Madeline

September 4th, Monday

Madeline breathed out, watching the bangs of her hair flutter.

     "Mads, table five."

     Madeline perked up. Len, Café Clark's hostess, was bringing a couple to Madeline's corner. She hadn't had a single person sit in her section all morning, so Len was steering these people her way. It was almost time for Madeline's shift to be up, and she was desperate for customers. She mouthed a "thank you" to Len before turning to the couple.

     "Good morning! I'm Madeline and I'll be your server this morning. Can I get you guys started with a cup of coffee?" Madeline looked at each person, making sure to lock eyes. Her manager had said that eye contact generated better tips.

     Len set the small menus on the table and left, giving Madeline a wink over her shoulder. Madeline focused on the guy. It was their little signal; Len would wink if she thought the man was cute. Len would hover around the table if she thought he was hot. Madeline wasn't sure what Len would do if she found the guy mind-blowingly attractive. She'd probably offer herself up on the table right then and there.

     Neither customer said anything. The guy was staring at Madeline, looking stricken. Madeline felt her smile slip. With his crisp white collar against a scarlet sweater, neat chocolate-brown hair, and black wayfarer glasses, he looked oddly familiar. Madeline wracked her brain, worried she had run into him somewhere and said the wrong thing. Why else would he be looking at her like she was the most terrifying thing on earth?

     "You know, I'd love a cappuccino," the woman said. She, too, had brown hair. It spilled over the shoulders of her blue scoop-necked shirt. Madeline made sure to notice that her eyes were the same color as what she was wearing. The woman smiled.

     "And you, sir?" Madeline asked, turning back to the guy. He opened and closed his mouth, but said nothing. Madeline was feeling more and more uncomfortable. No wonder why Len hadn't hovered.

     "Why don't I give you another minute. I'll get that cappuccino started for you." Madeline bowed her head and backed away. The woman immediately began whispering to the man in an irritated hush. He said something to her that Madeline couldn't quite make out, negating the possibility that maybe he couldn't speak. 

     She worked her way through the tangle of tables and mismatched chairs, mentally shuffling through every human interaction she had had in the past month. He didn't look like anyone she had met at an audition, and there was no way she would have beat him out of a role. Nor would he have beaten her. Madeline remembered the face of every actor who landed the show, she wanted to know what the next hurdle to jump looked like.

     "One cappuccino." Dennis was working the espresso machines. He smoothed his apron and grabbed the milk.

     "He's cute," he said, nodding his head in the direction of table five.

     Madeline leaned back on the counter, resting her elbows on the edge. "I guess. I don't know, he seems really weird."

     "How so?"

     "Like he knows me. Maybe I did something, I don't know." Madeline raised her voice over the sound of the espresso machine.

     "Well I hope you did. Because then you can pass along my number." Dennis wiggled his eyebrows. He poured the foamed milk into the mug. "Tell him it's from a secret admirer," he said, pushing the saucer towards Madeline.

     She narrowed her eyes at Dennis and looked down. Dennis was masterful at making coffee art. He could make the most beautiful images out of foam and cream. Apparently he could also make the most obscene.