A Nice Cuppa

CROUCHING BARISTA, HIDDEN LACTOSE (continued…)

Interior - The Cuppa - Day

“Hip Hop MVP”…and the letters twisted their way across his back, around his shoulder blades almost. Six gold stars spread themselves across two wavy swooshes that underlined the initials. He probably thought highly about the gold embossed lettering himself as he strutted. Probably admired its ability to stand out in a room of blazers and tucked-in t-shirts. Probably considered it a cloak of some kind…made him a bulletproof cosmonaut. Ferina gave him a look without meaning to look, then directed her mind on her side of the window, towards more important things. Scheduling.

Justin: Pretty much got what he requested. Smart mouth or not, he was always there, and at least the customers who had gotten comfortable with his “Now let me tell you what I really think” quippiness, seemed to come back. Mon, Tues, Thurs, Fri days. And the odd crisis Saturday.

Emma: A good egg with a cracked smile made you love her all the more for allowing her personality to surpass her ugliness. Weekends and Wednesdays.

Brendon: Early 20s. Third year microbiology student. A sweet bleeding heart who cared for everything but his hair. The F14, wind-tunnel bed-head infuriated her dad’s grooming standards, though without a speck of dry scalp to be seen, how far could he really take it? Wed to Fri afternoons. Sunday evenings.

Chassy: Employed long enough to be bitter about it, and long enough not to be axed for any other reason than being bitter about it. Great coffee knowledge with little incentive to use it. Felt very comfortable correcting certain patrons on their coffee knowledge. Mon, Tues, Fri evenings. Saturday day.

Tuti: Newbie. A “made it up as she went” who came off like a “knew it all along.” Justin-like quick to the punch, with reinforced steely lining. Hidden agenda? Who didn’t. But until it was known…Mon to Fri days. Could make life at The Cuppa interesting again.

TUTI: Thanks.

Speak of the devil. Tuti smiled over Ferina’s shoulder, playing the part of the grateful employee. Brother did the music thing. She handled the acting. An artsy family.

FERINA: No problem. If they need to be adjusted, let me know.

TUTI: Sure.

FERINA: (gives a nod to the bathroom) How’re the fruit flies?

TUTI: Paradise. Hard to leave.

FERINA: Yeah right. Invite the family.

Tuti settled into their conversation, and leaned her body back into the shelving behind her. Her arm close to buckled, still raw from her meeting with Earlobe. She compensated by tightening her jaw, channeling the pain out of her mouth, and managed to hide it. Earlobe. The kind of guy who ruined days by waking up. Tuti didn’t need to look over her shoulder now. He had left the building. By the time she patted her face with a dampened ball of TP, he was gone. Probably perched himself on a nearby street light, preening himself.

TUTI: (in thought) You’re made. It’s over then…essentially. Whether I pawn the goodie bag or not, it’s over. I can’t see me being their only final play though…which means they’ve got Pramana too. Ha. To see his face as he walks into the Academy at Levitt, into the lab. No, better yet, coming up the old sidewalk across the campus lawn, with me approaching opposite, like a movie. He wouldn’t wink. He’d have the same wicked face as when they slapped a hand on his back and he realized he was going home. “Thanks for helping out,” he’d say…something half way between putting the blame on me and actually expressing gratitude for my involvement. Ahh, who knows. Maybe coming off this assignment would be the best thing for him….give him his sense of humor back. He’d be pissed though. Be pissed about being bagged into 2nd place for a long time. I won’t. I can let the war games go without the 6th grade grudge, but not yet. And not on account of Prince Dorko: Lord of the Lobes. Hell…far as I’m concerned, if this is gonna be the last day of summer camp, I’m goin home with the best damn pine-cone necklace in the troop. Pram will do the same. He’d been a huge sore loser since I’ve known him, and the more serious the game, the harder he’d spit. Even in play, he wouldn’t let up. Guy couldn’t lose a dumb chess game without attacking the character of the piece that finally did him in.

“What was he thinking?”
“Nothing. It’s a bishop.”
“Who’s been playing out of character for the last 10 moves.”
“It’s wood.”
“He’s wishy washy. Half hour ago, I’d flinch and he’d jump behind your pawn.”
“Comeback then. Came through like the champion he is.”
“He’s inconsistent. You don’t run your whole life and then decide to attack the biggest thing around. He never would’ve had the guts.”
“He? Give me a break.”

She pitied the wincing sack of unfortunate that Director had chosen to catch Pramana. But this was Canada dammit, land of permafrost underwear and Tim Horton’s fine dining. Her problem was getting Earlobe out of the way. Could frame him. She had faith that the city’s policing would hold a freak for being a freak, for a bit. College St. HQ was literally a 40 second jog away, close enough…but if she faked a crisis she’d be out of the picture too…have to make a statement. Nah. Didn’t feel much like a Q&A with Lieutenant what’s his face. Probably fall in love with his pencil chewing and corduroy jacket. Earlobe would be better off just being unconscious.

TUTI: So where’s the trash go?

The metal garbage bins were outside, or rather inside through an automated parking door at the rear of the building, but a fellow needed to breathe open air to get there. The bins were shared by five small business within the building: Travel Gains, Sandwich Stop (skimpy on the tuna), Credit Union, The Cuppa, and Moosezz Bar & Grill. Each had a one button plastic remote with a blocky white button set into the middle. It tripped the door, but as ugly often does, the users confidence in the remotes often wanned. Tuti put it in her pocket. Justin held the door open and she stumbled outside with three garbage bags, two in her left hand. Used coffee grounds were heavy.

JUSTIN: Say when…
TUTI: I need help? You a gentleman?
JUSTIN: Nope.
TUTI: (adjusting her grip) I got it.
JUSTIN: See ya.

She walked. Game plan. What would Pramana do? Punch Ferina, grab the box, and run. Maybe later. This called for something a bit more inventive. Tuti turned the corner and ran.

(To be continued….)