Page 8 of Midnight Roots
"You don't say," the brunette with greying hair says.
"What can I get you?" I ask, taking out my notepad.
"Try not to mess this up. We want two cappuccinos, a slice of pumpkin pie, and a slice of cheesecake."
"Uh, strawberry or lemon?" I ask, knowing we have both.
"I always have lemon," the brunette says, as though this is the most obvious thing in the world.
"Thanks, I'll get that rung up for you."
"We don't pay until after," the blonde says with a shake of her head.
"I'm sorry, but Cece said I am to always get payment up front." I start to ring them up as they bicker amongst themselves, commenting about people from out of town ruining the landscape. They are the rudest fuckers I've ever met.
Still, this is hospitality, and I doubt it'll be the last time I will deal with them. I make anote about their looks, calling them blond bitch and brunette bitch, and writing their orders, tucking the slip into my apron.
I look at them and smile. "That'll be thirteen dollars."
"Here's thirteen dollars and fifty cents. Keep the change."
I take the money with a gracious smile, pocket the fifty cents, and put the thirteen dollars into the register. "I'll be right back with your coffee and pie."
I hurry along. Thankfully, the pies are already cut, and I just have to slide a piece neatly onto each plate. I take the pie to them and get to work on their cappuccinos. I try to make the cute little decorations that Cece showed me, but they come out a bit wonky. I carry the two cups to the counter and set them down.
"This looks sad," the blonde says.
"I'm sorry. As I said, I'm new."
"It better taste nice," she says as she takes her cup and pie and moves to sit at a booth with her friend closely following her.
A guy sidles up to sit at the counter and flags me down. "Coffee, cream and two sugars."
I ring him up, and he slides the money to me. "Keep the change."
It's a dollar fifty tip, better than the two old hags.
I put the money in the register, pocketing my tips. I make his coffee and carry it through.
They don't stop coming.
The few moments of silence I get, I think of how nice Heston was to me. He is different from how everyone else treats me. He isn't indifferent.
Once the lunchtime rush is over and the cafe falls quiet, I go to find Cece. "Anything I can help you with?"
"Wipe down the booths? Refill everything?"
"Done and done," I say with a smile. "And I didn't even get an order wrong."
"You are kind of slow, though," Cece says with a good-natured smile. "You need to work on being faster."
"Does that mean I'm hired?" I ask hopefully.
"Yes, it means you're hired," she sighs. "God knows I need help. You will work morning and afternoon shifts, occasionally evening if I need you. Mostly Fridays and Saturdays." She puts her hands on her hips. "You'll need a uniform. It's black pants and a black shirt, a T-shirt is fine. Then the apron stays here when you go home."
"Are jeans fine?" I ask.
"Jeans are fine," she says.