One
It was one of those days when she walked into the café. One of those days that I would need a drink after. One of those days when I wanted to tear off my apron, toss it in the corner, and tell Sal and Jen that it had been real, but I had other shit to do.
And then she walked in. It was one of those things where I happened to turn at the right moment and bam. There she was. Like fate had placed her in the doorway of the Violet Hill Café. The sun lit her up from behind so it was like her dark hair glowed. The door shut behind her and she took off her sunglasses and looked around. I instantly appraised her blue button up and slim black pants. Hmm, she might be lost and not know that this was a totally queer café. Or she could know exactly what she was doing, and in that case I wanted to wait on her.
I walked over. Damn, she was sexy as hell. I should probably not be ogling her like that, seeing as how I was on work time. But when had that stopped me before?
“Can I help you?” I asked in my nicest voice. I tried not to make it too sugary sweet because then it just sounded sarcastic.
“Yes, I was hoping to speak to one of the owners?” Huh. That was an odd request. I looked her up and down again, but she didn’t seem the type to “ask for a manager” so I was a little caught off-guard.
“Can I ask what this is regarding?” I was so professional right now.
“Sure, my name is Lacey Cole and I’m a freelance photographer. I’m working on a project right now and I was wondering if I could take some pictures here and write a piece on the café. Kind of a ‘People of New York’ thing, but for LGBTQ spaces.” Oh, well. That was something completely different. I sputtered for a minute, trying to think of what to say. I had other tables and other customers. But this girl with her dark hair and captivating hazel eyes was going to make me ignore them all.
“Sure, Jen is in the back. I’ll just go get her. If you want to find a seat?” I gestured around the café, currently full of people on laptops, the working lunch crowd, a few families with young children, and some teens that had clearly skipped school to come here.
“Thanks so much,” she said, taking a seat in a corner at a table for two.
“Oh,” I said before I forgot, “can I get you anything?”
“Uh, sure. Dirty chai?” I tried not to smile when she said “dirty” and failed. What was wrong with me? I was a flirt for sure, but this was throwing me off my game. Pretty girls tended to do that to me though. So did pretty boys. And pretty non-binary people. Pretty people just got to me. The perils of being pansexual.
“Can do,” I said, nearly tripping over my feet as I went back to the kitchen to put in her order and get Jen.
“Thanks . . . ” she said, trailing off and trying to read my nametag.
“Anna,” I said.
“Thank you, Anna,” she said in a husky voice that made my knees weak. I needed to get my shit together ASAP. I wobbled back to the kitchen and called out an order for a dirty chai and nabbed Jen who was right in the middle of assembling sandwiches.
“There’s a photographer here who wants to do a story or something on the café. Figured it could be good publicity.” Jen nodded to me and finished the sandwiches before taking off her apron and washing her hands.
“Pst,” Daisy, who was up to her elbows in dough, said over the half-wall that separated the kitchen from the bakery.
“You talking to me?” I asked, leaning back.
“Yeah. Who’s that hottie you were talking to?” I rolled my eyes. Guess I’d had an audience when I’d been talking to Lacey. You couldn’t do anything in this town without someone catching wind of it.
“No one,” I replied and then went to pick up Lacey’s drink. My hand shook just the tiniest bit when I brought it to her. Fuck. I was really having some serious issues. I wish I still smoked. I could use a cigarette right about now. Calm me down. Or maybe a shot of something.
“Here you go,” I said to Lacey, who was deep in conversation with Jen.
“Thanks,” she said, glancing up and shooting me a smile that made me flutter in several places. Damn. I needed to get away from her so I could keep my wits about me.
I went back to work and dealt with my other tables, but my attention kept drifting back over to the corner where Lacey was. Fortunately, I had a woman asking me for every single ingredient in every single menu item (she wasn’t eating “that bad stuff that’s in bread,” aka, gluten), and by the time I sold her on a salad, Lacey was gone. I almost breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, then I scurried back to the kitchen with the pretense of picking up an order and asked Jen what Lacey had wanted.
Jen had a shiny business card in her hand.
“She wants to take some pictures and write a story about the café. I’m sure Sal is totally going to go for it.” She rolled her eyes. Sal wasn’t a fan of having her picture taken.
“But it could be good publicity, right? I mean, it would get us out there. Maybe it would bring in more business.” Not that we seriously needed it. We seemed to do just fine, even in the winter when all the tourists left and it was just the locals. There were the regulars who came every morning for their coffee, or during lunch, and there were always kids using our Wi-Fi after school.
“Sure, it could be. Or maybe it will bring a bunch of fucking homophobes to protest outside. You know how those nuts troll the internet for queers to harass.” Well yes, there was that, but we were just a tiny café in Maine. It was a liberal state. And the town loved us.
“Or maybe it will bring in a bunch of new business and will end up being a great idea.” I didn’t know why I was so on board with this thing. It wasn’t like I really cared that much. But there was something about Lacey. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.
Jen sighed.
“Ugh, I don’t have time for this. Since you seem to be so excited about it, how about you negotiate with Lacey? Sit down and figure out what she wants and so forth. And maybe think of a good way to pitch this to Sal so she won’t flip out. Can you do that?” Sure, I could do that. I only had three jobs, but I could add this on top of them. Besides, Sal and Jen had given me a job and had been so good about the hours I could work. They were like family. Hell, they were a lot better to me than my actual family.
“Uh, yeah, I think I can handle that,” I said, feeling my face go a little red. There was something seriously wrong with me right now. Jen handed me the business card.
“You are the best. Oh, I posted the new schedule. Just let me know when you can’t be here and we’ll work around it.” She patted me on the shoulder and got back to the kitchen. I was supposed to leave in a few so I could get to my other job at the library down the street. I shook myself, slipped the card into my pocket, and went to finish my last few tables so I wouldn’t be late.