“A flat white with a half-shot of coffee and three shots of hazelnut syrup. That will be 5,60.” I repeated the order back to my latest customer.
“There you go mademoiselle. Feel free to keep the change.” The old lady on the other side of the counter replied.
I knew that she was old, 75 to be precise, since the end of May this year, and a lady, by the name of Catherine Waters, because she’d spent over twenty minutes telling her life story to me. Although customers like her were usually a pain to deal with, she had shown up just before closing and had managed to scare off all the people who entered the shop after her. She’d side-glanced at them that way that only lawyers and old ladies can do, where she judged them for all the crimes she knew they’d committed.
“Here you go.” I handed her the paper cup with a smile.
Under normal conditions, I might have given her a free slice of cake, as now that Etienne was no longer here to claim them, they shared the fate of used napkins and empty milk cartons. However, glancing at the clock that hung over the ‘staff only’ staircase leading downwards, I saw that it was 10 minutes past closing time. It seemed as if I had somehow miscalculated and talked to this lady for longer than I would have liked.
“Pardon me, would I be too much of a bother if I asked you to beat up the milk?” The woman asked.
“Beat up? You mean skim? To make it foamy?” I asked, half-confused, half-amused, trying to maintain a neutral expression.
“Yes! That’s it. Make it taste like a sponge.” She replied before handing me back her cup with a broad smile.
With a sigh that I hoped was quiet enough for her not to hear, I turned around and returned to the coffee machine.
“Oh, and before I forget, I never finished that story about my neighbour’s cat,” The woman carried on.
I turned on the milk skimmer, whose noise thankfully muffled out her voice, but did not in any way prevent her from carrying on.
“Here is your new drink. I hope you don’t mind, but I really need to be closing now, so if you could head start heading out-”
Just as I was handing her the drink, she leaned towards me, and whispered:
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a shady young man loitering around your store. I think it’s not wise for you to go outside.”
I glanced behind her. There was in fact a tall, dark-skinned, man standing by the door. He was currently busy checking something on his phone. From time to time, he readjusted the collar of his well-worn burgundy leather jacket (which he always insisted was brown).
“That is my boyfriend.” I replied to the customer, before remembering that we weren’t official yet, and quickly corrected myself. “Well, the man I am dating. He’s come to pick me up from work.”
The customer did not seem to be buying it. I clenched my fist under the counter in annoyance, and with all the ‘business politeness’ I could manage, I said:
“Unfortunately the café is closed now, so I’d appreciate it if you headed out. Otherwise, I might have to, regrettably so, lock you inside, as per company policy.”
“I have never heard of such a policy.” The woman replied, as her expression darkened and her eyebrows came together in a frown.
Thankfully before this had had the time to escalate any further, Etienne (who was none other than the man waiting outside) and I made eye contact. I discreetly nudged my head to the side, asking him to come and help.
“Hi Laura,” He greeted as he pushed open the glass door of the coffee shop. “Is there a problem?” He continued with a serious tone as his eyes remained on the customer.
“Hmpf.” The woman scoffed before turning around and pushing past Etienne to get out.
He stepped out of the way, holding the door open for her. It seemed that client never had any intention of drinking her skimmed milk with syrup, as she’d left the cup on the counter. At least she’d paid for it, so there was that.
“What was that all about?” Etienne asked, closing the door.
“Oh, you know, the usual. The kind of annoying customers that you no longer have to deal with, mister new secret job.” I replied with a smile.
Just from seeing Etienne’s face, the exhaustion from the day of work seemed to have fully vanished from my body. I cleaned up the counter in record time, and Etienne helped with arranging the chairs and tables into their correct spots.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Well, all that is left to do now is determine the fate of those.” He said, as he gestured towards the cake display.
“Leftovers are for employees only.” I joked, before starting to gather up all the unsold slices of cake onto a single platter and putting a ‘discounted’ tag in front of them.
“Well lucky for you, today I’m here as a customer.”
Etienne pulled out a crumpled-up 50€ note from an inner pocket of his jacket and extended it to me with a proud grin.
“First paycheck.” He explained, seeing my questioning expression.
“For two weeks of work, lords know where doing lords know what, and all you have to show for it is a note that, no offence, looks like it’s been up someone’s ass?” I jokingly replied.
Truth be told, I was dying to know what this new job of his was because all I knew was that he was working outdoors, but not inside a Wild Land because his rank was too low for that. Seeing how never wore any sort of uniform, I crossed out any types of emergency services, leaving only manual labour, which I doubted he was qualified for, and outdoor hospitality. The latter seemed like the most probable possibility, knowing his natural charisma and ability to get along with people.
“I swear by Agrippa, Ieyasu, Qhapaq, Bulba and Sechele; all five of the lords, that the nearest this money has come to anyone’s butt was when I carried it in my back-pocket.” Etienne replied, with a bemused smile, and a hand over his heart.
I had already decided to give him a slice of cake for free anyway, but this was an amusing sight.
“Plus,” He continued, as if still trying to sway me, “I need to get change from it anyway. The guy at the corner store had the same reaction as you when I tried to pay for my groceries with large notes.”
“I’ll give you change, and you can keep the cake as a freebie.” I said with a smile. “You have the choice between chocolate, sponge and milk cheesecake.”
“Ah, I see things here never change,” He spoke.
I almost mistook his tone for nostalgia, but common sense told me that he was joking.
“I’ll have the cheesecake. That’s the one you have the most left of.” He continued.
“Here you go.” I handed him the cake and opened the till, looking through the notes and coins in it.
These days most people paid by card, or with their phones, so I wasn’t sure at first if there’d be enough to even cover a 50. But fortunately, there was. I handed Etienne a sizable stack of 5 and 10 notes, and he handed me his 50.
Luck - 5
“Shit.” I swore as I shook my hand, dropping the note to the floor.
I had felt a burning sensation in my fingers, and when I looked at my hand, sure enough, there were blisters formed around my fingertips. Although they were starting to slowly fade away.
“You okay?” Etienne asked.
“You sure your money hasn’t been anywhere weird?” I asked, extending my palm towards him to show the disappearing wound.
His expression turned to that of concern.
“How did that happen?” He asked, taking my hand in his.
I should have forgotten about the pain and the incident the second his hand touched mine, but this just seemed too strange.
“You tell me.” I replied. “I think we’ll have to swap back, I don’t want Manon to get burned too.”
“I’m sorry.” Etienne apologised, although his voice sounded more confused than sorry.
I took away my hand, just as the wound finished healing.
“You wouldn’t happen to have some sort of burn or poison resistance, would you?” I asked, as I actively avoided his eyes, while replacing the money back in the till.
My only theory was that someone had tried to hurt Etienne, very likely whoever was paying him, but it hadn’t worked. I didn’t know if it was because of the jolt of pain I had felt, or because I was just too tired from the day, but in this moment I could hardly stop myself from angrily tapping my foot against the floor. Meanwhile, Etienne had picked up his 50€ note and was carefully examining it.
“I do…” He admitted after a long moment of silence. “But this is strange. Maybe-”
He was very conveniently interrupted by his phone ringing.
“Sorry.” He apologies before picking it up. “Yes? No I’m busy – Montmartre - Not this evening.”
While he talked, I leaned onto the counter, arms under my chin, as I carefully watched him. His posture had straightened out, almost as if he was talking to someone with authority or whom he had a lot of respect for. I did the same whenever I met with my grandma before she’d passed away; I always wanted for her to see me as a proper young woman, and not as some plain and unambitious data analyst.
“No – I can’t. Fine. I’ll be there in 20.” Etienne quickly said before ending the call.
“Where are you going?” I asked. My tone no longer held that same lightheaded joy as it had when he’d come in earlier, and that wasn’t just because of the incident with his money.
“I’m really sorry.” He replied. This time, he sounded genuine. “It’s an urgent work thing, I have to umm… there’s this …”
“It’s fine.” I cut him off. “I’m sure you’ll be free some other time.”
“I’m really sorry, please don’t be upset. I’ll make up for it next time by getting you proper cake, okay?”
“Sure.” I replied, not really paying attention to him anymore.
Despite his words, I had gotten upset enough to stop caring. This was the first time he’d had a work call this late in the evening, but if this was his situation after only two weeks, I could only imagine it getting worse instead of better.
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Bisous.” He said, before kissing me on the cheek and running off.
With a sigh, I made sure that the till was properly closed, before heading downstairs to finish closing up. It seemed no matter what I did, be it meddling with the characters of ‘The guide to modern immortal immorality’, or trying to make my relationship with my crush official, only trouble ever came of it.
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