for, liar

Chapter 9

"Excuse me, do you guys have bottles of water?"

I'm interrupted once again. I realized the voice was coming from right in front of me. I look up past the counter at a man slightly taller than me. He looks out of place here comparing his bright yellow jacket and blue jeans to the dark complexity of the café. He has very light brown eyes that almost match his hair perfectly and a good bit of stubble on his face.

"Yes, but there's a gas station across the street. It would be much cheaper than ours."

He laughs and raises his eyebrows. "You're not trying too hard to escalate this business."

I shrug and set the clipboard down. "We're not losing money over one guy looking for a bottle of water." I answer honestly.

He nods and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. "Do you own the place?" He asks.

Is this guy making small talk with me? I just told him a great deal on a bottle of water involving not being here. "No, I'm an ASM though."

I don't think he knows what that even means. He leans against the counter and crosses his arms.

"So who came up with the scheme to be assholes to customers and how did that become a successful thing?"

I laugh and stare at him. I've never seen this guy in my life yet he somehow looks oddly familiar. Granted, he looks like every other guy lurking around a coffee shop set in the 1990s.

"My boss wrote a book about how sucky it is to work in customer service and then opened her own business letting her employees be rude for entertainment. It's quite successful. I should probably get to work though. Good luck with that water."

I walk to the espresso machine and glance back to see if he follows. By the time I turn around, he's already gone. I probably won't see him again. I hope he gets his cheap water.

"Bree! How do you make a French vanilla cappuccino!"

I look at Vanessa, our newest barista who just graduated high school, and head over. "You know how to make the latte, right?" I ask.

She nods and starts filling the pitcher with milk.

"Add less milk and aerate longer to get more foam."

"Oh, okay. Thank you!"

She pours a little of the excess milk down the drain and slides the pitcher under the steaming wand. I pat her back and walk over to Jesse who is taking a younger woman's order.

"So you guys don't do milkshakes or those frappe things?" She asks.

Jesse laughs in this woman's face and shakes his head. "We are a coffee shop. If you want ice cream, ColdStone is around the block."

She huffs and walks out, making sure to slam the door behind her. I'm kind of glad Catherine never ended up adding those blended coffee "frappe" beverages. Every coffee shop I've been to has their own variation and they look like a pain in the ass to make.

"Yo, Bree. Can we order takeout with the store card?" Jesse asks.

I roll my eyes and smile. "No, Cat said only once a month and we did that two weeks ago."

Catherine is an amazing boss. We don't get paid an abundance of money, but it's enough to make it if we actually work. She gives us a few perks here and there when she can. One day, she hopes Scream Beans will be a franchise. Then people all over the world will have to endure the shitty attitudes they give to customer service workers thrown back at them with a smile and some damn good coffee.

By the time my shift is over, it's well after ten. I lock up the store for the night and leave it spotless for Lana because I'm just that nice of a fellow assistant manager. Jesse and Vanessa head out rather quickly when they get off. They must be tired and ready to get in bed. I can't blame them. We were busier than usual today. We do need the money so that is definitely not a problem, just odd.

I head out to my car and unlock my doors. There's papers spewed everywhere in the back seat from this last semester of school. I really need to clean out my car now that I'm done.

"Stop it, man! I don't have any money!"

My eyes widened slightly. I duck down beside my car and tiptoe to the edge of the trunk to see what's going on. Two men are standing down one of the corner allies a few feet away. One has the other pushed up against the brick wall with his hand gripping at his throat. I can barely make out faces, but the one on the wall has blood gushing from his nose.

"Give it to me! Now!" The attacker yells and throws another punch at the other guy's face.

His head hits the brick wall and he grunts. This guy is a lot tougher than anything I've seen but there's no way he's going to win this thing. Mom told me to never encounter a fight, especially one late at night in the city, but I can't just let this guy suffer. If I could just catch the other guy off guard while he runs...

"You can look in my wallet! Just let me go!" The man pleads pitifully.

I take a deep breath and pull my bottle of pepper spray from my work bag. I grip it firmly in my hand and run across the parking lot to the men. They both are startled by the footsteps approaching that they turn and face me just in time for me to press down and release spray. The attacker drops the bleeding man onto the concrete and screams as he claws his eyes to try and ease the burn. I grab the other guy's arm and quickly drag him to my car.

"Get in!" I yell and run to the driver's side.

He stumbles to the passengers side and pulls the door open. I spot the other guy in my mirror rising up off the ground. I shut my door hard, crank up the car, and speed off. Holy shit. I have an injured stranger in my car. What the hell am I thinking?

I slowly glance over at him and realize that he's not much of a stranger at all. He's wearing the same yellow jacket he had on just hours ago when he was asking about the water bottles. It was too soon to say I wouldn't see him again.

"It's you?" I say a little louder than I mean to.

He slowly dabs at his bloody face and winces. He looks at me curiously and relaxes his shoulders. "Oh, hello." He responds blankly.

Dude, I just possibly saved your life and all I get is a hello? He must think I'm crazy for dragging him to my car but it's the only thing I could think of in order to save him.

"Are you okay? That guy looked like he really wanted to hurt you."

I'm an idiot. Of course he wanted to hurt him. He was trying to rob him. 

He stares at me in shock. What is wrong with this guy?

I pull into the emergency room parking lot and find a spot near the front. Maybe this way he won't think I'm a psycho if I actually try to get him help.

"Why would you just pick me up? Haven't you heard of never letting a stranger in your car? I could be crazy."

Oh, so he has the same mentality that I do. Unless he actually is crazy, then I'm screwed.

"I met you earlier and I am perfectly capable of handling myself." I mutter the last part and cross my arms.

He chuckles and runs his hand through his sweaty tangled mess of hair. "Yes, I remember. The manager girl who wouldn't sell me a bottle of water."

Since that was mildly sarcastic. I'm assuming he doesn't think I'm crazy anymore. "Yes, her. That's me...Bree."

I put my hand out towards him. He hesitates for a slight second and reaches for it. He shakes mine gently. Honestly, I've never felt that gentle of a handshake. Usually men try to show their superiority complex by shaking my hand roughly. Not this guy, though.

"I'm Miles."

:Revised