Page 2 of The Game
“Val, can you go make those cold drinks? I’ll handle this.” Her blonde ponytail bobs as she nods at me, turning away from the hostile customer.
“How about I remake this for you?” My lips are curved up in a customer service smile the man doesn’t deserve as I steam the milk and re pull the shots.
The brown liquid flowing out in a smooth stream settles my mind a little, and I watch it like a hawk to make sure the shots are pulling correctly. Dark heart at the bottom, rich brown middle, and perfect light beige crema to top it off, sliding out rich and thick like honey. Looks good to me. I swirl the chocolate sauce into the espresso and top it with milk and perfectly swirled fluffy whipped cream. The real stuff, not that oily fake crap that comes in a can.
“There you go.”
His dark eyes don’t leave my face as he takes a sip before slamming it back down. “Still wrong. It’s supposed to have peppermint in it. What are you? Some kind of moron?”
“I’m sorry. It doesn’t say anything about peppermint on there, but I can fix that right up for you.” I’m not sure where the miscommunication came in, but Joe is working the register, so I have my doubts that he was the one that messed it up. Not to mention the guy said nothing about peppermint when Val read his order back to him.
My hands are getting a little shaky as I remake his drink a second time, making sure to add the peppermint.
He snatches the drink out of my hand before I can place it on the counter,
swearing as it spills over, burning his thick fingers.
“What the fuck. You stupid bitch. No one here can do anything right.” He takes another sip before tossing the cup at me. I duck out of the way to avoid the hot liquid, but tears start to blur my vision and his face morphs into Darryl’s. He’s got the same look of disdain on his face as my ex during my brief encounter with him my first week back at school. And it makes me feel small and incompetent, just like Darryl used to.
“You should be fired. Your entire job is to make drinks and you can’t even do that right.” Other customers are staring as his voice gets louder. I’m again reminded of Darryl shouting at me in the middle of the quad while students gathered around to watch our blow out.
I take a shaky step back as my vision goes fuzzy around the edges. Angry responses that I know I’m not going to say are tumbling through my head too fast to grasp hold of.
“I think you should leave.” A deep voice cuts through the fog that’s blanketed my mind. It’s smooth and calm, flowing over my skin like a soothing river.
“Who the fuck do you think you are? This isn’t your business.”
The angry customer turns his attention to the dark-haired guy that dared to confront his assholery. A new tension is gripping me now, fear for the guy who stepped in to defend me. Then I take a good look at him. Maybe the guy looked bigger, looming over me with his threats, but now that he’s standing next to my white knight, he looks almost small. My rescuer is four or five inches taller with muscles straining hisblack t-shirt that speak of a level of dedication to the gym that I will never have.
“Bitch messed up my drink.” The futile rage churns my stomach to the point I’m now worried I’m going to hurl on both of them.
There’s a flash of fury behind his dark eyes. “How dare you speak to her like that. Get out of here before I call the campus police to drag your worthless ass out.”
“Hiding behind the campus mall cops? Too afraid to fight me?”
Dark-haired guy snorts, his lips twisted in disdain. “I have absolutely zero desire to fight you. If I fought you, you wouldn’t be walking for the next week. So, if you know what’s good for you, get the fuck out of here. Clock’s ticking. Wait too long and I might decide it’s worth the week off the ice if they give me a temporary suspension.”
The Good Samaritan backs up his words by stepping forward until his thick chest is inches away from his opponent’s. Their proximity only emphasizes the glaring differences in their heights and builds. The asshole’s bulk is mostly of the soft beer-drinking variety.
Asshole’s skin pales the slightest bit and realization dawns in his eyes. He doesn’t have the physical advantage, and he knows it. Not like when he was towering over Val and me.
“Fine,” he says, turning to walk away.
“And don’t come back here again. If you do, I’m not so sure I’ll be able to resist messing up that ugly face even more than it already is.”
I can’t help following the brown leather back of his jacket as he makes his way through the cafe and out the front door, so when I turn back to thank the guy that rescued me, he’s gone. I scan the cafe to see if he sat back down at a table. Nope.
There’s a figure heading toward the door that might be him. Black track jacket with three white stripes up the sleeves, dark hair trimmed into a fade at the back and sides and longer on top. I think that’s him. I was so hopped up on adrenaline I didn’t really process the details.
My head spins as the overwhelming scent of sweet chocolate and peppermint surrounds me when I reach down to grab the cup he tossed at me. I throw out a hand to brace myself on the counter as I stand back up. That was a terrible idea. I should have left it there in the pool of dark brown liquid and sad, melted whipped cream.
Right, adrenaline. The whereabouts of mystery guy suddenly doesn’t seem so important as the adrenaline seeps away. My heart is still pounding, and my hands are still shaky, but now my head is throbbing, and my mouth is dry as Las Vegas in July.
Val slides in next to me, closing her fingers around the paper cup I’ve got gripped so tight in my hand that it’s no longer remotely cup shaped.
“I got this, Jazz.” She passes me a glass of cold water. “Go sit down in the back for a minute before you leave for the day.” At least some of my coworkers are looking out for me.
“Thanks, Val.”