3
Sam
Tasting days were some of Sam’s favorite shifts. Every time Peter went somewhere new, he came back with half a dozen bags of coffee, all different flavors and roasts. Today, he’d brought beans from a supplier in Philadelphia, where he’d been visiting his wife’s family. He sat in a corner, talking animatedly to Ben as Sam boiled water, ground the beans, and labeled each cup with the specific blend. It helped, having a set of tasks that needed to be done. This way, he couldn’t pay too much attention to the conversation.
After setting four cups beneath filters, he started pouring the hot water over the grounds, swirling the pot around in a small circle so that water covered every bit. For the first time, he allowed himself to look up and over at Peter. Faith had come in while he’d been grinding the beans and was listening to Peter speak.
“Of course, Sam knows a thing or two about having to go see family,” he said.
No, no, no. He’d told Peter that in confidence. He’d done so well to hide his family situation from Ben.
Scalding fire laced up Sam’s hand, and he jerked it back with a curse, looking down to find that he’d overfilled the filter. Faith raced over and grabbed a paper towel, wetting it. His cheeks were hot. Never, in his three years as manager, had he once overfilled the filter.
“Here.” Faith placed the paper towel on the burn and wrapped it around his hand. “Keep this on it and go sit down. I’ll finish the pour-overs.”
He couldn’t even get that right. Gritting his teeth, he walked over to the table where Peter and Ben were sitting. Faith had stuck her bag in the chair beside Peter, so the only seat left was by Ben. He dropped down into it, doing his best to keep a small space between them. That plan was immediately destroyed when Ben reached over and pulled the edge of the paper towel up. His fingers brushed the back of Sam’s hand, and Sam had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from shivering at the contact.
“Looks painful,” Ben said.
“It’s not horrible.” It still throbbed, but Sam didn’t want to seem weak in front of Ben. He’d never had a high tolerance for pain.
“What did Peter mean about you having to go visit family? Is that what your mom was texting about yesterday?”
Sam didn’t want to answer that. In fact, he had already resolved not to answer it if Ben asked. He didn’t want Ben to know about his life—the life he had given up as soon as he possibly could—or the lies that he had told his family. As his luck would have it, he didn’t need to say a word.
“Sam’s got a family reunion over Labor Day weekend,” Peter said with a smirk. “But that’s not the worst of it. He’s been lying to his parents for the last six months, telling them he has a boyfriend. They’ve told the rest of the family, and now everyone wants to meet this mystery guy.”
He was really starting to regret the decision to come to Peter for advice in the first place, but Peter was one of his closest friends, and something of a father-figure. More of a cool uncle-figure, really. He and his wife, Emily, had more or less taken him in when he had run away to Wilmingson.
Ben looked at him, his eyebrows raised. “You seriously lied about dating someone? Haven’t you seen every single movie that lays out why that’s a bad idea?”
“Shut up,” Sam mumbled. “My sister had just gotten married and they kept asking and asking when I was going to come home with someone, so I just snapped. I told them I was dating someone here and avoided any specifics.”
That part was a lie. He had given more than a few specifics, but Ben definitely didn’t know that he had fabricated his fake boyfriend using Ben as a template. Boyfriend was an artist who worked in a local gallery. He’d met Boyfriend through the coffee shop—Boyfriend was a regular. But he had never exactly used a name with his parents. He wanted to keep his personal life personal, not that they ever asked much about Sam’s personal life after hearing that he was in a relationship. It was always just a passing ‘So, how’s your boyfriend?’ Since they never asked about a name, it was all too easy to lie. Sometimes he would fill them in with Ben’s latest gallery showing. He had never felt like he was crossing a line because; one, he never used Ben’s name and two, they were never going to meet him. It hardly mattered. Except, now it did, because they wanted him to bring Boyfriend home.
“Still a bad idea. And now you see why. It’s coming back to bite you in the ass,” Ben said.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you. Like I didn’t already know that.”
“What’s coming back to bite you in the ass?” Faith asked, walking over with the first round of the pour-overs.
“He lied to his family about having a boyfriend,” Peter said.
Groaning, Sam scrubbed a hand across his face. “Is this going to be a thing today? Help Sam figure out what to do about the lie he told his parents? Cause I was really looking forward to doing a taste test of those beans you brought back.”
Peter grinned. “Who said we can’t do both?”
“This one’s the Indigo one, from Indonesia,” Faith said.
Sam picked it up and sniffed. That was always the first step—smelling. The sharpness in the scent made his nose wrinkle. It was going to be bitter as hell. He took a sip and sure enough, it was. There was little acidity to it, and Sam couldn’t taste anything other than, well, coffee. Normally, he could at least get hints of cocoa or fruit.
“It’s not… good,” he said carefully. “It just doesn’t have much of a taste.”
Faith nodded. “I agree. There’s nothing to make it stand out. Like, if I bought this at a café and drank it, I would be super disappointed.”
He was glad to see that at least one other person here didn’t like it. As the manager of the Press Room, he liked to keep in stock only the things he knew customers would like, but occasionally he and Peter differed in opinion. Usually, he eventually submitted to Peter’s wishes, since he was the owner, but he didn’t think he could stand to stock this, even if Peter loved it.
“No, you’re right.” Peter pressed his lips together in a thin line, a sure sign he wasn’t pleased. “It’s just not good. Set this one to the side and write down your thoughts. I’ll get the next batch going in a moment.”
Being in between coffee, there was only one inevitable topic of conversation: the family reunion. Sam braced himself for it, and sure enough, Faith turned toward him in her chair.
“So what are you going to do about your fake boyfriend?”
“Hell if I know. Probably tell them he’s sick.”
“Seriously?” Faith crossed her arms. “You’re going to make up some lame ass excuse about your fake boyfriend being sick? And you don’t think they’d see right through that? I mean, sure, if you want a miserable weekend, go ahead and tell them he’s sick.”
“What other choice do I have?” Sam snapped.
The entire café fell silent for a few moments, and then Peter spoke. “You could take someone.”
“We’ve literally just gone over this. I’ve been single for two years.”
“I didn’t say take a boyfriend.”
“Then who the fuck am I going to take?” He picked up a glass of water and took a drink.
Peter grinned. “Take Ben.”