LAUREN

 

“Never steam the milk to above seventy degrees Celsius, unless, of course, some idiot demands it,” Gabe said, holding the jug under the steam wand. The milk made a gurgling sound as it whipped around the edges, growing in volume as it became thicker and frothier. Once it reached the desired temperature, he knocked the jug on the counter and expertly poured it into the mug leaving a beautiful fern-like design on top.

Smiling, he turned to me. “You’re up.”

“How do you know when it’s the right temperature?” I asked.

“I can tell by touch, but you get to use one of these.” He reached into the cabinet below, pulled out a thermometer, and clipped it to the side. It was angled so it protruded into the middle of the jug. “Remember, don’t let it get to seventy or you’ll burn it. And someone’s mouth.”

I held the jug up to the steam wand and started the pressure. It spluttered and Gabe covered my hand with his and pulled the jug up higher. He tilted it until it was the right angle.

“There, perfect,” he said. “You’ll get the feel for it after a while.”

It was unusually quiet in the café and Gabe took the opportunity to train me while there weren’t any customers waiting. I watched the milk forming small, thick bubbles and kept an eye on the needle.

“Remember, we don’t want much froth. We want it creamy for a latte, not frothy like for a cappuccino.”

I concentrated on the milk and, as the needle approached the little red line, I turned the knob, placed the jug down on the counter, and wiped off the nozzle. 

“There,” I said, surprised at the satisfaction I felt over such a small task. Gabe slid the coffee cup towards me, a thick crema over the surface, ready for the milk. I poured slowly. It looked nothing like his, but it was passable.

“I think the tongue helped,” he said.

“Huh?” I looked up to find him studying me, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He ran his tongue back and forth across his lips, mimicking my look of concentration. I couldn’t help but become a little transfixed with the image of his tongue running over his full lips and laughed to hide it. I had found myself allowing the indulgence of stealing looks all day, claiming it innocent under the banner of being pure fantasy.

Gabe slid the cup closer towards him, examined it closely, and then he lifted it to his lips and took a sip. “Not bad for a first attempt. Next latte ordered you’re making it.” He put the cup back down and rested against the counter, crossing his arms. “You’re well on your way to fulfilling your lifelong dream of becoming a barista now. Latte sorted.”

“Only cappuccino, mochaccino…” I turned and looked at the board behind me. “And countless others to go.”

“We’ll concentrate on one a day and you’ll get there in no time.”

I turned to the sink, picking up the jug and washing it.

“No skirt today, huh?” Gabe asked.

“I went shopping this morning. Business skirts weren’t cutting it for this job. There is a lot more movement required than sitting at a desk.”

“Pity, I kind of liked it.” I looked at him sharply, but he just grinned. “So, tell me, Lauren, what brought you here to join our little team?”

“Peta hasn’t told you?” I said, dumping the now clean jug on the counter.

He shook his head and picked up a tea towel to dry the jug. “We do have dishwashers, you know.”

“I took this job for the same reason that most people do. Money.”

Gabe nodded. “I hear ya. What did you do before?”

I decided to skip the last couple of years. “I used to have my own photography business, actually. Mainly, it was just weddings for friends and family, portrait shoots, stuff like that, but I did have the odd commercial client.”

Crossing his arms, Gabe leaned against the counter. “What made you give it up?”

I shrugged my shoulders and turned around, plastering a smile on my face. “Life.”

“Ah, yes. Life. A common occurrence for most people.”

“What about you?” I asked. “Is making coffee your life-long goal?”

He shrugged. “For now.”

Someone cleared their throat behind us and, as I turned around to greet the customer, my heart sank.

“Hello, Lauren,” Derek said, smiling.

“Hello, Derek,” I replied flatly. She was standing beside him, arm looped through his. Flashes of her creamy white thighs burned in my brain. She smiled and ran her eyes up and down Gabe. I inched a little closer to him.

“Your mother told me you’d started working here,” Derek continued.

Of course she had. She would have been on the phone to him the second I had hung up. Beside him, the man-stealing-bitch cast her gaze along the counter and into the cabinets of food. She turned back and stared at me as if it were somehow my fault the food didn’t impress her.

“It’s nice you have something to keep you occupied.”

I seethed at his comment but bit my tongue. The man-stealing-bitch blinked slowly and smiled up at Derek. Her blouse strained against her chest, the material between the buttons gaping open to reveal scarlet lace under the crisp white. The same colour she had been wearing that night. I smoothed my apron and looked back up at him, taking a deep, calming breath. I had never told Derek what I saw. After the shock had subsided, I merely closed the office door and drove back home.

Derek looked good. According to my mother, he had started going to the gym and was signed up for some charity fun run, or something like that. I had tuned out. Whatever he was doing, it sat well on him. His face had thinned out a little, not that it ever needed to, and his shoulders somehow looked wider. His hair was a little longer than he used to keep it, and was pushed off his face, giving him a more stylish appearance.

“Would you like to order?” I asked, mustering up the most professional tone I could manage. I would not let him get to me.

“Straight to business, is it?” He placed his hands on the counter and leaned in closer. A flicker of annoyance passed over the man-stealing-bitch’s eyes at the familiarity. “How have you been? I’ve been worried about you.” I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth. Derek frowned. “Please Lauren, we’re adults here. Let’s behave like it.”

I bit back the reply on my tongue. “Would you like to place an order? I’m rather busy.”

Derek looked around the nearly empty café. “Fine, but I’m trying to be friends, Lauren. It wouldn’t hurt you to try as well. Two lattes.”

I started keying in the order when the man-stealing-bitch added, “With soy.”

“Soy?” Gabe asked, eyebrows raised.

Derek looked at him as though he had just noticed him for the first time and nodded. Then his eyes moved to the man-stealing-bitch beside him, and the way her eyes roamed over Gabe, and he frowned. I couldn’t help but smile a little.

“That’s what the lady said,” Derek replied curtly.

“Each to their own, I guess,” Gabe said.

“Human stomachs are not meant to digest milk from animals,” the man-stealing-bitch said in her slow drawl.

A crease of annoyance appeared between Derek’s eyebrows as he handed over the money. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Lowers testosterone levels from what I’ve heard.” Gabe held up his hands. “But hey, maybe that’s your thing.”

I couldn’t help the snort that escaped, and Derek’s frown deepened. “Real mature, Lauren.”

Gabe pulled the carton of soy milk out of the fridge and made a display of pouring it into the jug, lowering the carton up and down dramatically like a bartender. As it swirled under the pressure of the steam, he placed the thermometer into the liquid and the needle rose up to seventy. Gabe didn’t stop. He kept going until it almost reached ninety degrees. He winked at me and handed over the cup. “One soy milk latte.”

Derek jerked the cup from his hand. “You can bring the other one over to the table.”

“Yes, sir.” Gabe saluted.

I watched as he walked away, one hand resting protectively on the small of the man-stealing-bitch’s back.

Gabe hummed quietly as he wiped down the counter top and leaned close. “Something tells me they aren’t going to want that second cup.”

“Fuck!” Derek yelled. Another customer in the café looked up at him and shook her head, unimpressed with his outburst. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“You still want that other one?” Gabe yelled across the café.

“Fuck you,” Derek mouthed as he pulled the man-stealing-bitch up from the seat and dragged her towards the door. She struggled to keep up with him, moving as fast as her tight skirt and high heels would allow. I shuddered to think that I might have resembled that the day before.

“You okay, baby?” she drawled.

Derek was holding his hand to his mouth. “I should have known better than to try and act civil.” He shot a death stare in my direction as he walked out of the door.

I turned to Gabe, trying to look appalled and shocked when secretly I was pleased. “What did you do that for?”

“I didn’t see you trying to stop me.”

I opened my mouth to say more but promptly shut it again. He had a point. Gabe looked at me, his eyebrows raised and grinning stupidly. “You won’t tell on me, will you? He was a prick. Ex-boyfriend?”

I shook my head. “Ex-fiancé.”

“Ouch.”

“And the woman?”

“The man-stealing-bitch?”

“Sorry, my bad. And the man-stealing-bitch?”

“A fellow real estate agent,” I said.

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.” I glanced down at the pale band of skin around my wedding finger which had held my engagement ring. Strangely, I didn’t feel the familiar tug of melancholy. “We separated about five months ago.”

Gabe pulled himself up to sit on the counter. “Sorry.”

For the first time since Derek left, I shrugged it off. “Shit happens.” I didn’t swear often, it wasn’t professional, but damn, it felt good. Maybe the occasional swear word would become part of the new me. The new, coffee-making, less professional me.

Gabe furrowed his brows but laughed. “Awesome, Forrest Gump.” He shook his head, smiling. “Shit happens,” he repeated.

It struck me that it was the first time I’d almost felt okay around Derek. Usually, when I wasn’t around him, I was sad. And then, when he was around, I was pissed. Mind you, the man-stealing-bitch’s extra wide smile didn’t help. Neither did the way he kept glancing down at her stomach, like he could somehow see the little part of him growing inside her, despite the fact that her stomach was still as flat as it was when he informed me she was pregnant. Turned out that was why he left. She could give him the very thing I couldn’t. I swallowed the lump growing in the back of my throat.

Peta bustled through the door bringing with her a rush of crisp spring air. “I just saw Derek and the man-stealing-bitch clambering into the Beemer. What on earth happened? Are you okay?” She stopped and dumped her bags onto the counter. “Did he upset you? What did he say? Whatever it was I hope you took no notice. How dare he come in here! Gabe, I might need you to change roles and act as security if he ever—” Peta wrapped her arms around me and squeezed hard.

I squeezed back. “I’m fine, honestly.”

“Are you sure?” She held me at arm’s length. “He was swearing his head off and muttered something about my staff.” Peta frowned when she noticed Gabe sitting on the counter. “Get your arse off there.”

“That’s my cue,” Gabe said, sliding off the counter and heading out the back. “I’m going to see if Mark needs a hand.” He winked at me and held his finger to his lips.

Peta looked between us, the line in the middle of her forehead deepening. “What’s going on?”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

“But why was he so angry?”

I grinned. “Ask Gabe.”

“Should I be worried?”

I laughed away her concern. “What are you still doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be home by now? Go!”