I am good at what I do. You might think it’s not exactly rocket science to make drinks and you’d be right. It’s a completely different field with a completely unrelated set of skills. It’s not fair to compare two careers like that.
That being said: making drinks isn’t my only job. I also have to look out for my little sister and take on odd jobs from the organization. Boss #1 really needs help with his naming skills. There is always overlap because the part of my brain that’s good for those odd jobs just doesn’t turn off. I’m always looking at people and analyzing them. I can tell who’s lying, who’s cheating on her husband, who’s depressed, and who doesn’t belong. That didn’t come from years of psychological training and rigorous studies. It came from years of observation and the high school quarterback not keeping it in his pants.
How’s it relevant? Well, like I said, I can’t turn it off. So when the little bell rang with a new customer coming in and I saw the man with the awkward accent walk in I knew.
“Must be fate,” I said. A seeming quip.
“Hardly. I think this is the only place open right now,” he grumbled back. It was true and I felt a bit irritated by that.
Still, a customer was a customer. “Same as last time?”
“Not today. I need something hot, with lots of caffeine, and blacker than a bat at night.”
He looked tired which was understandable given the hour. I rang him up for a late night special and kept half my focus on him while I began to make the drink.
“Just you tonight?” he asked as he looked around. The cafe was mostly empty. One almost-adult in the corner withe headphones on and an office lady with her updo all frazzled, suit wrinkled, and laptop sending occasional trills out was about as crowded as we got at ten at night. “Where’s the other girl?”
“Still at her real job,” I snorted.
“Real job?”
“She babysits for someone with more money than time,” I explained as I started putting together a fresh batch of steaming hot coffee. It wasn’t quite the full truth - she did babysit for Boss #1 and Boss #2, but it wasn’t always their kids - but it was close enough for the casual conversation. “Always says that’s why she doesn’t want kids.”
“Because she’s always watching someone else’s and already has the full ‘motherhood’ experience.”
“Something like that. We’re trying to convince her it’s different when it’s hers.” It’s not that I particularly want to push Holly to have kids. It would just be really nice to see her finally settle down with a family instead of always hovering on the edges of everyone else’s. She basically lives out of her car and everything she has of value fits in two suitcases. That’s not the life I wanted for my little sister.
“So, you and her, are, uh…” he trailed off uncomfortably and it took me a moment to connect the dots.
“Me and Holly?” I laughed. “Hell no. And don’t let her hear you say that. She’d skin you alive.” Or at least leave him a bit verbally charred.
“She doesn’t like brunettes?” was the casual probe. I couldn’t see his face, but the reply was tentative enough to recognize the caution. I honestly couldn’t tell if he was interested in her sexually - he wasn’t quite giving off the right vibe - but he was interested.
I gave him a shrug as I finished up the drink and handed it off. “I honestly don’t know if she has a thing against brunettes or not. Incest, on the other hand, is a definite deal breaker.”
“She’s your sister,” the man said with an apparent tone of dawning understanding. An itch up my spine told me it was fake. I wasn’t sure if he’d already put the dots together earlier or if he somehow already knew us and we hadn’t recognized him. He wasn’t a target. He certainly didn’t fit in with the rest of our regulars, though. “Sorry, I’m not from around here.”
“You don’t say,” I drawled as he took a sip of his drink, winced, and then chugged it down. “Careful. Chugging caffeine like that might actually give you a heart attack.”
“Need to stay awake a few more hours still,” he shrugged, “so I hope this kicks in fast. Adjusting to the time change still, I guess, but I’m meeting someone soon and I’d rather be awake for that.”
“Makes sense.”
“Do you always warn of heart attacks?” he asked.
That threw me off a bit, and as I was standing there confused he said: “Yesterday you told me another shot would make my drink a ‘heart attack in a cup’. Today you told me chugging my coffee could give me a heart attack. Seems you’re really concerned with your customer’s health.”
“Just don’t pass out on my floor,” I snorted. “I have enough to clean without a body in the way.”
“Just trying to make conversation,” he countered while throwing his cup away. “You brought it up.”
“Cute, but I’m married.”
“Does that mean we can’t talk?”
He was probing for something. No one talks this long with their barista unless they want something. I just couldn’t tell if he was flirting or clumsy. “It means I have been up way too long with way too little sleep and I need to start closing tasks. I’m assuming your drink was okay since you chugged it like a cheap beer. Anything else?”
“Not right now,” he said with a shrug. “Have a nice night.”
In a few hours he might be vibrating but that wasn’t my concern. I said my goodnights to him, closed some things down while keeping an eye on the two still in the store, then kicked them out and locked the doors so I could finish up. The whole time with that strange man on my mind.
My biggest concern was that he’d found out about the organization. It would probably be best to report the situation. He hadn’t responded to the code phrase so he wasn’t a customer. The interest was more than casual and something just felt wrong. He already knew the two of us were sisters.
Some people can just tell. We look enough alike that it isn’t a surprise we’re related, and we do have a sibling tone with each other sometimes. I’m not sure he was here long enough to see that though.
Thoughts like this make my brain hurt. I hadn’t lied though: I wanted my little sister to have a family of her own and a stable home. A place she could return to and not have to worry about vacancies or if there was open floor space for her sleeping bag. A safe place.
God knows there are enough places out in the world that aren’t safe. No need to invite trouble in.
I thought I was doing good by reporting the strange man. I certainly didn’t think I was doing wrong. Boss #1’s response made my head hurt even more. How anyone could consider anything about the situation ‘cute’ was absolutely beyond me.
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