Simmer & Stir

Chapter 0.1

Before we proceed, I'd like to thank each and every one of you who read 'the one-shot - Espressoly for you' and supported me with your comments.

In case you haven't, here's the story of how it all began.

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"It's like a baby caterpillar is following its mama." John's words were hurtful but not ill-intended.

I had singed my eyebrows in the chemistry class. The whole class erupted into a bout of laughter when I looked like a character from Dexter's laboratory, smoke flaring from my brows. A couple of days passed since the incident but I didn't dare to go back to school.

Standing behind the counter, I knew I could get done with work quickly and without stares only if I kept my head low with the cap hooded over my eyebrows. But working as a barista, I forgot the reason why it wouldn't be a success. It wasn't the customer's stares but my colleague's that I should have braced for.

John was a sighted hound. A built man of six feet and tattoos covers both his beefy army, he was the first one to notice my brow paint.

And I do admit, it was looking weirdly different. Although nearing eighteen, I didn't know how to do makeup, let alone paint my brows. After a couple of YouTube tutorials and using mom's makeup kit, I was proud of the result when John's sitcom quote made me realize how it looked.

"Can you please just...play along?" I requested, folding my palms.

Although he bit his lower lip, turning them to a shade of purple, John gave in. A moment later, the roaring laughter from the traitor was loud enough for the customers to turn their heads. Camouflaging my disaster with the brim, I looked away.

John was a man of few words but there were exceptions to it. Placing his hands on my shoulder, he nodded. "Fine, Z. I'll make fun of it when it grows back."

With a gentlemen's agreement in place, we got back to work. Serving coffee to strangers was a way for me to make a few extra bucks. Both dad and mom struggled to keep us going so I couldn't complain about my life. It wasn't ideal but I was happy.

"I'll take five," John whispered, leaning closer before walking out through the side door. His much-needed smoke break was a way to keep his demons at bay. Serving in the war was difficult for everyone, him included. Smoking helped him occasionally.

John owned the coffee shop and worked here too. Nobody knew about it but me. He was generous to have offered me a job after I bumped my cycle into his car and cried my eyes out. His repairs came from half my paycheck and he got a blabbermouth barista in the deal.

It was close to the lunch hour and the rush started flowing in.

Roseville was a small town tucked between hills. It was a place for people to rest before they continued their journey to the next destination - California City. Although the town was never bustling per se, the shops here saw a throng before the onset of summer.

The pizzeria and our coffee shop were those few shops to see the wave of the crowd daily. After all, no matter where you were, you'd need food. Right.

The bell perched on the door rang at constant intervals during lunch and the soft chattering, chair dragging and plates clattering were music to my ears. It ensured I have a regular paycheck.

I took orders and processed them, ensuring nobody got a peek at my bad boy brows. The tactic of lowering my head, pulling down my brim and keeping my eyebrows raised while interacting with customers helped.

After processing the last of the orders, I fell back on the stool. My legs needed rest and so did my forehead with all the eyebrow dance I did. Pulling my cap off, I ruffled my flattened, blonde hair.