"Iced White Chocolate Mocha for Josephine," the barista calls for my name moments later and I make my way towards the counter when I notice a tall with a brown and brushed up-hair man in a conservative two-piece navy blue suit, brown dress shoes, and designer watch, eyeing my drink like he's having an internal battle while looking back and forth between his watch and my cup of drink. Huh, that's weird becau-motherfucker! "Excuse me, I think you got the wrong drink," what the fuck? My day hasn't even started and yet here I am, already pissed off because this asshole just grabbed my drink like he's the motherfucking king of the world. "Your drink? I'm sorry, miss. But I'm really in a hurry and I don't have time for this. You can get the next order," the asshole says and oh my god, couldn't he be more of a son of a bitch?! "Next order? I'm sorry, too, sir. But that is my order, unless your name is also Josephine?" I counter with a brow arched and eyes narrowed into slits. ***