A Nice Cuppa

CROUCHING BARISTA, HIDDEN LACTOSE (continued…)

Interior - Motel - West Sumatra

GUNTER: I want a tea.

PRAMANA: You just had choco.

GUNTER: I got something to prove.

Pramana could have cared less. Their location had been made, and the “good” side of a smuggling simulation was threatening to end their training in the field. “Had been made.” The tough guy banter wasn’t him. That’s why he spoke it in his head. Even in front of Gunter, he tried to keep it to a minimum. Bitching about their situation like a Hollywood Navy Seal with nothing but one liners made him feel like a child. They were here to train, in the real world, playing smugglers for a few months to get a sense of what the business (and the life) was like from the other side; law enforcement education turned inside out. And now, the other team had been given a few extra runs just to catch the game up. That’s the way he saw it.

GUNTER: I got a tea the other day. You know the place.

PRAMANA: Nope.

GUNTER: Across from the watermelon place.

PRAMANA: (to himself) Can you focus for two seconds? I’ve got to figure out a way to tip Tuti into recovering an illegal item that doesn’t necessarily exist without tipping our tail as to its non-existence. Am I bugged? No. Wouldn’t have bothered with a personal visit then. Would have just presented tapes to Director and been done with it. Goddamn khat! Without that in the box it’s just a box. Without that, Tuti could walk away now….spend the week twitching by the sampling bottles at the Body Shop and leave it be. Screw it. It’s not the way to play these guys anyway. Myers…punk, and his pals…investigative sense of a Flinstone vitamin. They weren’t gettin shit. Tuti wouldn’t let them. Personally, yeah, she was like filet-o-fish at a wine and cheese party, a hardship discharge with more baggage than a domestic departure kiosk, but she could perform in a crunch. Hence, her employ. There. I’ll give her credit.

A year ago, when we shared a pillow and toothpaste holder, Tuti could have had your full attention without being naggy about it. She was talented. In retail speak, she was the customer who got her money back by making a scene, but not by steamroll-bitching management. She had other ways. It was her voice to begin with. It was edged and sultry, the proper mix of sex and no-shit common sense it took to manage bar staff. She had that going for her. And when she spoke, people listened, first because they felt they had to, next because they wanted to. That was then. Now? Sure….she could still pull it off if she needed to, but she was starting to lose it.

Pramana gave her some silent credit. Again, the privacy of being in your own skull afforded him the occasional moment of humanity. You could be happy with yourself for a minute, remind yourself that when all this caramel coated bullshit is over, that the touchy feely crap can still make a comeback. Someday.

GUNTER: It’s a coffee joint, but they have tea too. I had a green tea.

PRAMANA: Yea.

GUNTER: It’s just a tea bag in water, right?

PRAMANA: Usually.

GUNTER: Artsy fartsy tea.

PRAMANA: Yep.

GUNTER: You put the tea in the water…but it’s in the bag. The tea leaves are in the bag. Not in a filter. They had…like…loose leaves in a filter…sittin in the water.

PRAMANA: A bit different. S’like a diaphragm with tea leaves.

GUNTER: It was a bit different. It was a bit different for me. Hmm….how to put this.

PRAMANA: Just put it….some way.

GUNTER: I drank the leaves.

PRAMANA: Sure. (to self) Moron.

GUNTER: It was the way the diaphragm was set into the mug…cup. Really hard to tell it could be lifted out. Really hard.

PRAMANA: Sure. How were they?

GUNTER: Not the best. Filling. They gave me a funny look when they…collected the cup.

PRAMANA: Right. (to self) Who birthed this guy, Yogi Bear and a spatula?

PRAMANA: The leaves stuck to your teeth didn’t they?

GUNTER: You’d think they’d tell a guy.

PRAMANA: Amateurs. You’re going back.

GUNTER: I’m ordering another and I’m going to do it right.

PRAMANA: You da man. Grab me a cap…and don’t be followed.

GUNTER: Sure.

Pramana slapped him on the shoulder.

PRAMANA: (to self) You’re too human for this job today my friend.

Interior - The Cuppa - 3:30 pm

FERINA: Nice.

Tuti gave one of the stainless steel frothing cups a spin around her finger. For what it was worth, the serving thing was kind of nice. The relief of real work.

FERINA: You just might have yourself a job.

TUTI: If I believed in one liners I’d say I told you so.

FERINA: Suppose you did.

TUTI: Thank you though.

And how did that work again? That thing about a place changing its character after you begin working there? Tuti took the theory for a test flight and looked the place over for the first time since the afternoon blitz. It could have been a calming effect though, the way the eyes tend to wander about during a long exhale. Some people played up the effect more than others: the inflatable headed types who liked to exaggerate their contributions to the world by sputtering their eyes about like a popped balloon.

TUTI: Umm…

FERINA: End of the hall. Only door before the stockroom.

TUTI: Merci. Coffee be jammin mon.

The room was tiny, size of a suburban broom closet without the spare blankets. Big enough though.

TUTI: (to self) Can they see me from the counter? The hall curves but barely. Would have liked to have played dumb and tried the stockroom door myself, thinking it was the bathroom, play snoop dog for a little khat. A bit tough after just been given directions to the bathroom though. Not going to play this like a grunt though. As likeable as Ferina and the kid are, these cats are fluff. I can take a bit of time and still get this taken care of, then I’ll split. Besides, the dish-boy wages and an even split of a $5 tip jar ain’t gonna tilt the scale towards being…nice.

For a room this small, you wouldn’t think a shove to the far wall would register as hurt. The far wall just isn’t that far from the near. Still. Tuti hit the wall with her forearm raised and it twisted towards her body. A stab of pain came, and with it a 3rd grade jungle gym dare came flooding back: “spider crawl the monkey bars on your back, or you’re chick chick chicken.” She tried. Then she fell, and spent the summer in a cast and nowhere near a swimming pool. This sucked too. She heard the door click shut. Whoever it was, they were already inside. Tuti turned to fight. Shit. It was Earlobe.

EARLOBE (formerly CUSTOMER 2): You want another? Be difficult.

TUTI: F**k you gorgeous.

He grabbed her shoulder, and held it tight before Tuti knocked it away, but he made his point. Strong boy.

EARLOBE: Customer’s always right Tuti.

TUTI: One liners. Why me?

EARLOBE: Sorry about your assumption that this is all…fun, but it’s over. Pramana’s through. You too. No body’s interested in carrying on with it…because it’s not real anyway. Get it?

TUTI: (shrugging her shoulders; hiding any pain) Me don’t know. Just a coffee girl in a coffee world.

EARLOBE: I doubt it. I know who you are. I know why you’re here. I know you’re not coming back tomorrow to do this thing you’re here to do, so it’s a one day adventure Tuti. That means I’ll be around for the next while. Definitely outside, but I’m also a paying customer, and bang a duck if I just happen to loooove coffee. Get it?

TUTI: (to self) Here we go.

(To be continued….)