Micah
Micah talked about his previous job at a family-owned grocery store. In the two years he’d worked there, he’d gotten experience in customer service, stocking, and working the register. He explained that it had gone under a few months ago after a big box store opened in the small town where he’d lived.
He gave Adrien examples of when he’d gone above and beyond and other examples that demonstrated his willingness to learn new things and help out wherever he could.
Adrien asked follow-up questions about the details of Micah’s application, nodding and smiling as Micah answered. Micah hoped that was a good sign, though he got nervous each time Adrien flipped over the application and took notes. Micah’s nerves had settled, but they ramped back up when Adrien brought up the information Micah dreaded talking about.
“So, I see here that you have a felony conviction,” Adrien said in a matter-of-fact but gentle voice.
Micah’s stomach lurched, and his body tensed, unsure which direction Adrien’s line of questioning would go. His last employer hadn’t asked him about his conviction during their brief interview, because he’d been hired through a program that placed ex-cons in jobs and the man had already known the details of Micah’s conviction. The interview with Adrien was new and scary territory for Micah.
He swallowed. “Yes, I do.”
Adrien looked up from the application, flipping it back to the side that he’d been taking notes on.
“What was the nature of your conviction?” he said, his face open but his voice firm, all signs of the man that had made Micah’s body tingle with interest gone.
Micah’s neck, face, and ears heated as he darted his eyes around him to see if anyone was listening. Then a hand on his knee drew his attention to Adrien’s steady gaze.
“I don’t mean to embarrass you. And having a felony doesn’t preclude you from being hired. But I have to ask what you were convicted for since you’d be working with money and other merchandise.” Adrien pulled back slowly and waited.
Micah’s tense muscles relaxed. That was more than anyone else had been willing to consider.
He took a deep breath. “Possession and distribution of narcotics,” Micah answered.
Adrien nodded and made a quick note on the paper. “Are you on parole right now?”
Micah shook his head. “No. I completed my parole a few months ago.”
Adrien nodded again and then looked up from the notes he’d taken, smiling.
“Okay, Micah. Thanks for being honest. Do you have any questions for me?”
Micah rubbed the back of his neck and tried to think of what he needed to know, relieved that Adrien had moved on from questions about Micah’s criminal record.
“What’s a typical day like?” Micah had read online that was a good question to ask on interviews.
Adrien explained what staff did on each shift—opening, midday, and closing—and answered Micah’s questions about training, the espresso machine, and pay.
“The job is full-time and it pays thirteen dollars an hour plus tips which usually averages out to about fifteen an hour,” Adrien said.
It wasn’t a ton of money, but it was full-time, which was unusual for a service job, and it paid more hourly than his last job where he hadn’t gotten tips.
“We’re closed on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Day,” continued Adrien. “But we’re open basically every other day of the year except for a couple of days in June when I take everyone to my parents’ cabin by the lake for a staff retreat.”
“That sounds great,” said Micah, his body now fully relaxed as he leaned in, elation starting to seep in.
“Oh!” Adrien clasped his hands together, eyebrows lifting. “And you get insurance after ninety days, if you’re full-time. It’s not the best, but it covers the basics and has a moderate deductible.”
Micah had no idea what a deductible was, but he had no job and no insurance at the moment, so anything was better than what he currently had.
“If it sounds good, I’d like to offer you the position,” Adrien said.
“Seriously?” The huge grin splitting Micah’s face hurt his cheeks.
Adrien nodded. “Yeah, man. Seriously.”
“Yes. I accept!” Micah stuck out his hand, shocked that he would be walking out of the coffee shop with a job.
Adrien gripped his hand, and Micah tried to ignore the prickles that danced up his arm at the connection.
“So,” Micah asked as he stood, “when can I start?”
Adrien grinned. “Sunday night?”
***
“Congratulations! I knew you’d land something.” Micah’s ex-girlfriend Rhina squeezed him so hard his ribs hurt despite her small frame. He just hoped she wasn’t covered in bodily fluids after working a long shift as a nurse at the local hospital.
She pulled back, brushing her dark bangs out of her sparkling green eyes, just as their thirteen-year-old son, Caleb, walked into the kitchen.
“Hey, Mom,” the wiry teen said as he walked over to Rhina and kissed her on the cheek. He turned toward Micah, lifting his chin in acknowledgement with a soft-spoken, “Hey,” before heading to the fridge.
Micah’s shoulders drooped at Caleb’s lackluster greeting. He hadn’t called Micah Dad in years, and it chipped away at Micah’s pride. Caleb didn’t call Micah anything, really. He was mostly quiet and sullen around him. But that didn’t stop Rhina from trying to get Caleb to engage with Micah more.
“Caleb, great news. Your dad got a job!” Rhina gushed, her curvy five-five frame vibrating with excited energy. She’d been that way since they were kids—chatty, intense, animated. And tooting Micah’s horn when he wouldn’t do it himself.
His ex was his closest friend, had been since they were eleven years old…and she was also the mother of his child. It was weird, but it worked for them.
Micah’s gaze shifted to Rhina who gave him a small encouraging smile. She knew how desperate Micah was to connect with Caleb.
“Oh yeah? Cool. Congrats,” Caleb said, his voice muffled as he poked around in the fridge looking for food. When Caleb finally stood with a couple of string cheeses in his hand and an apple in his mouth, his features were unreadable.
He closed the fridge door and slid into a chair at the kitchen table and focused on his snack, clearly uninterested in the details of Micah’s job.
Rhina was undeterred.
“The job sounds great. We get a pound of free coffee a week and any leftover pastries they don’t sell when your dad closes the store at night.”
Caleb looked between Micah and Rhina whose smile was a little too bright.
“Awesome,” Caleb mumbled before biting into his apple again and pulling his smartphone out of his pocket.
Effectively dismissed, Micah’s stomach dropped, and he slowly turned toward the counter to resume chopping the vegetables he’d been working on when Rhina had come home. He couldn’t expect to make up for years of abandonment in a matter of weeks, but his son’s standoffishness still stung.
Micah peered over his shoulder, amazed at how much Caleb looked like he had at that age. Same lanky limbs, same wavy blond hair and mannerisms. Luckily, Caleb only inherited Micah’s looks; he had his mother’s smarts.
Rhina didn’t have to worry about him sneaking out to parties, getting in fistfights and getting suspended, or getting picked up by the cops. Which was why Micah really didn’t understand why Rhina wanted him there.
When he’d been released from prison, Rhina had invited Micah to stay with her and Caleb on the weekends so that Micah and his son could reconnect. Initially, Micah had been paroled to a halfway house a few towns over before eventually finding a cheap studio apartment with a roommate so that made the most sense. It was a condition of his parole that he stay in the same county he’d been released to but his parole officer gave him permission to leave the county to visit his son. Even so he’d only been able to swing two visits a month because of his work schedule.
Then, when he’d lost his job, Rhina had proposed that he move into her guesthouse to save on rent and look for work in their hometown so that he could be closer to her and Caleb and be more involved in Caleb’s life. By that time, he was off parole, so he took her up on her offer.
Initially, Micah had thought the idea was nuts. They weren’t together anymore even though they were still friends. And while he wanted to be closer to his son, he wasn’t sure Caleb wanted to be closer to him.
For the past two years, Caleb had shut Micah out during their weekends together. He was never rude or disrespectful to Micah, but he kept their conversations to a minimum, avoided introducing Micah to any of his friends, and showed zero interest in spending any time with Micah outside of the house. There was a wall there that Micah had hoped to break through when he’d first come home. Two years later, and the wall had only gotten higher.
Micah sighed as he finished dicing carrots, then reached for a few red bell peppers, looking over his shoulder at his son again.
Rhina was doing fine raising Caleb on her own. The kid was smart, motivated, and stable—no thanks to Micah.
“So, where’s the coffee shop?” Rhina asked, snatching a carrot from the big cutting board and sticking it in her mouth.
He swatted her hand as she went in for another. On days that Rhina worked, Micah took over chores like laundry, yard work, and cooking, especially since she was letting him live rent free in the guesthouse until he could afford to pay her rent.
“It’s the one on Main Street, not far from here,” he said as he finished slicing the bell pepper and reached for the broccoli.
Rhina nodded, sneaking a piece of bell pepper.
“They have great vanilla lattes,” she said, crunching the vegetable. “I never saw you as the barista type, but you’ll be great for tips—eye-candy.” She winked.
Micah snorted before smacking Rhina’s hand again as she went in for another veggie.
“Wait,” interrupted Caleb from the table, making Micah set his knife down and turn to face his son. Caleb tilted his head. “Are you talking about Bright Bean Café?”
Micah set down the chopping knife, turned, and nodded. “Uh, yeah.”
A frustrated groan erupted from Caleb. “Just great. That’s where I study with my friends. It’s my spot.”
Rhina grinned. “Oh, that’s fantastic. Maybe your dad can hook you up with some free drinks? Your friends will love that.” She beamed.
“Yeah, no,” said Caleb, shaking his head as he rose from the table and deposited his snack debris in the trash before turning to face Micah, a deep frown on his face. “It’s embarrassing,” he mumbled, crossing his arms. “Like, whose dad works at a coffee shop like some college kid?”
Micah’s ears heated, and he glanced down at the beat-up loafers he’d been walking around town in for the past three weeks, the pride at finally landing something evaporating before he looked up at his son. Caleb wasn’t wrong, and Micah would take every cutting insult. He’d take it because he deserved it.
“Caleb, apologize.” Rhina folded her arms and stepped toward Caleb who rolled his eyes. “That’s rude and ageist. Plenty of older people work in food service. Your dad has been busting his ass to find a job. You should be glad he’s even here—"
Caleb huffed. “Yeah, five years too late.”
Micah flinched.
“That’s my spot,” he said, eyes narrowed at Micah. “It’s bad enough you’re living here. Now, you’re gonna work where I hang out? We were doing fine before you came. We don’t need you.” Caleb stormed out, mumbling something that sounded very close to “so embarrassing.”
Well, fuck.
“Caleb!” Rhina called after him, but Micah put his hand on her shoulder.
“No, Rhina. It’s okay. I get it, okay. Thirteen-year-old me wouldn’t have wanted my mom or dad working where I hung out. And I’m not the kind of dad other parents would want their kids around anyway. Not the kind of dad a kid would be proud of.” He sighed, turning back to his pile of vegetables, his limbs so heavy with defeat he didn’t know if he could pick up the knife and finish dinner. He rested his palms flat on either side of the cutting board.
“Oh, Micah.” Rhina’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Give it time. I know you can’t see it, but he needs you so much. Teens suck. Try not to take it too personally.” She patted his back. “I’m gonna go clean up before dinner and get out of these scrubs,” she said, then Micah heard her footsteps retreating from the kitchen.
Micah managed to finish dinner, but by the time Rhina and Caleb came back down to eat, he’d lost his appetite and excused himself back to the guesthouse, saying that he was wiped after job hunting all day.
Once inside the one-bedroom unit in the backyard, Micah collapsed on the couch, groaning and running a palm over his face, trying not to replay his son’s biting words. They had hurt, but they’d been true. Micah had been locked up for three years, and then, after he’d been released to a neighboring town, he hadn’t been around as much as he would have liked.
But maybe he should have stayed away and kept his visits with Caleb to the weekends? At this point, Micah had no hope of repairing their broken relationship.
But after missing years of Caleb’s life, he had to try.
At least he now had a job. He was grateful to put behind him the daily humiliation of being turned down because of his criminal record. And it didn’t hurt that his new boss was gorgeous.
Micah chastised himself for thinking about Adrien again, his insides expanding when he remembered the way Adrien had calmed him when Micah became self-conscious about discussing his criminal history. Adrien didn’t have to do that. He didn’t even know Micah, but he’d been kind, taking pains to not embarrass him. That made Adrien even more attractive.
Knowing that Adrien was the owner of the Bright Bean Café drove home just how unattainable he was to Micah. That, along with the fact that they would be working together.
Besides, Micah knew he wasn’t good for anything more than a hookup. Hell, he wasn’t even out yet. He’d had to be discreet while living at the halfway house, and then in a studio dump with another felon. Rhina didn’t even know about his sexuality—it just hadn’t come up.
And with everything else on his plate—starting a new job, living back in his hometown, and trying to reconnect with his son—Micah didn’t have the bandwidth to focus on relationships or even getting off with another guy.
Still, that didn’t stop him from dreaming about a slightly flawed smile, dreamy hazel eyes, and rich sepia skin after he drifted off to sleep that night.