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That Wednesday was pretty much just like every other day. And that was just the way I liked it.
Just about every day found me right where I was standing then, behind the counter at The Coffee Shop. Opening that little shop was my dream, and I had put everything into it. All my time, energy, and money had gone into starting it up and making something of it. I even lost my long-term relationship because I was so devoted to starting the shop.
It was all one hundred percent worth it, though, and once it was open, it only got better. I was happy to get there early to bake the pastries and other food on the menu, spend the day serving coffee, then stay late into the evening to make more food or plan new things. It was everything to me.
Not that I did it all completely on my own. I did have two employees who came in for a few hours during the week so I wasn’t working nonstop. It didn’t always stop me. It wasn’t unusual for me to just stay there while they were working, even when I didn’t actually need to.
It wasn’t just the work itself or my devotion to the business I’d worked so hard to build that kept me at the shop for long hours. In the little less than two years since I’d opened, I’d picked up quite a few regulars who made a point to visit my shop every day. Sometimes twice. They’d talk to me about their lives, and I was there for them however I could be, even if that was just making them a special treat or keeping their coffee topped off while they vented about whatever was bothering them.
It felt like being the caffeine and baked goods version of a neighborhood bartender, and I never wanted to leave any of them in a lurch. If they were going to put forth the effort to make my shop a part of their day and their life, the least I could do was be there.
One of those regulars was sitting in his usual spot at the counter. Barry was a particularly colorful person, in appearance and in personality. He had an affinity toward bold patterns and fabrics that didn’t go together in any real way, but apparently their completely haphazard association was what put them on the absolute cutting edge of fashion. When it came to his personality, Barry was all hand gestures, fast talking, and constant energy. He was the type I could see making some people very nervous, but I saw the positive in him. I didn’t know how much I’d be able to take in long stretches, but the small doses I got each day were a bright spot.
That day, he was all about his new puppy. Apparently, the acquisition of said puppy wasn’t something Barry had planned. As he put it, the universe had led them together, and their paths intersected at the exact right point to ensure they would go forward on this journey of life side by side. As it turned out, that exact right point was actually a literal intersection near a park, and there was a slight possibility the universe leading them together was actually an unintended puppy-napping from a nearby breeder after a breakout.
But since it had been a full twenty-four hours and the breeder hadn’t straight-out said they were missing a puppy, Barry was taking it as a sign they were destined for each other. Possible inadvertent felony aside, I was happy for him and the obvious adoration he had for his new little family member. I decided that night I would make some special treats to give him the next day to welcome the puppy home.
Barry had just gotten into his case for me allowing Banana Split into the shop in the tradition of pub dogs when Grayson walked through the door. The only real way to describe the way he carried himself was swagger. A representative of the company that owned the Bentley, Grayson was responsible for renting out the apartments and then seeing to the needs of the tenants once they were in place. He put a tremendous amount of significance into that role, which in turn gave him a massively self-important air. The fact that he went through women faster than my customers went through coffee and had no qualms about giving all the details and moving on without any emotion didn’t help.
He wasn’t all bad. Maybe it was just that I tried to see the good in people, but he could be funny, and he seemed to genuinely take pride in doing well at his job. But when he walked into The Coffee Shop that afternoon, I knew I wasn’t in for a heartwarming story about him finding the perfect theater tickets to help a couple celebrate their anniversary or how he was helping organize the tenants for a charity fundraising event. This was going to be about his most recent conquest.
“Hey, Grayson,” I said when he dropped down onto one of the stools at the counter. “Want your usual?”
“Absolutely,” he said. I made him his extra sweet hazelnut caramel coffee with two espresso shots and set it in front of him. “Thanks. Did you see that girl I just showed the apartment to?”
He didn’t even wait until after his first sip of coffee. That was almost impressive if it wasn’t also a bit sleazy.
“No, I didn’t,” I said.
I tried not to put any kind of emotion into the words so he couldn’t interpret it as encouragement, but he didn’t need any. Grayson would probably talk about women to the empty shop if we weren’t here to listen to him. It was compulsive. Like breathing.
“She was so hot. Like...”—he searched for the right assortment of adjectives to describe her—”ridiculously hot.”
Apparently he was short on vocabulary that day.
“Must have missed her,” I said.
“Too bad. She was amazing. She had this whole corporate sexy thing happening. Like any second she was just going to tear off her blouse, hop up on a desk, and lecture me about the budget crisis.”
Somewhere in his confusion about whether this woman was an executive, a professor, or a government entity, a few new customers came in, and I stepped out of the conversation to take their orders. The time it took to make their drinks and get their food wasn’t enough to cool Grayson off, and the second I got back in his orbit, he was talking about her again. “Her” because he never bothered to mention her name. I figured it was entirely possible he had already forgotten her name. Grayson wasn’t big on actually getting to know any of the women he pursued. As soon as he bedded them once or twice, he was done and moved on.
Usually, I didn’t consider it any of my business. After all, he was a grown man, and he went after grown women. How they handled things between them was just that. Between them. It wasn’t really up to me to judge him or try to make decisions for anyone else. But this was the first time he had intentions of going after a woman who lived in the building. That changed things.
“You know, Grayson, maybe it’s not such a great idea for you to pursue anything with this woman. Someone who works for the company that owns the building dating someone who is applying to live in that building could really look sketchy,” I said. “It might seem like you are trying to coerce her or using the fact that she wants the apartment as a bargaining chip.”
Grayson took a swig of his coffee and flashed me a grin. “No worries about that. She already signed the lease and is moving in this weekend. And I didn’t even say anything to her during the whole thing, so there’s no risk of her thinking anything like that. It’s smooth sailing.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I said. “In fact, her living here just keeps up the complication. You really should be careful, Grayson. You could be charged with sexual harassment.”
Grayson stared at me over the edge of his cup for a second, then burst into laughter like he thought the warning was the funniest commentary he’d ever heard.
“Well, it’s not harassment if she’s receptive to it, so I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” he asked. He took the last sip of his coffee, tossed some money on the counter, and gave me a wave. “All right. I’m out of here. Thanks for the coffee. See you tomorrow.”
I watched him leave, shaking my head and pondering what type of HR hell he was going to bring raining down on the building. Maybe things would work out. The new tenant might be smart enough to reject his advances and things would just blow over.
Barry stayed at the shop a little longer, doing what he usually did and lingering well after everyone else had already left. Sometimes he managed to find his way out the door before the 5:30 closing time listed on the sign. Sometimes he didn’t. It didn’t really matter. I decided when I was actually going to close, and the vast majority of the time, I didn’t hit that time. That day, he was out only twenty minutes past closing time, and I locked the door behind him so no one else wandered in expecting coffee and food.
But it wasn’t time to leave yet. Locking up just meant I could go into the kitchen and focus on making a few things. First up on the list was the peanut butter oatmeal treats I had in mind for Banana Split. They were shaped like dog bones, but they were essentially just cookies so Barry could have a snack with the puppy if he wanted to. While those were baking, I took a basket and filled it with all the leftover pastries, sandwiches, and other food from the shop from the day. Then I went to work making a few dozen cookies and a batch of sourdough crackers.
When it was all finished, I took the basket and headed out. It would only be a few more hours before I needed to be back to start up for the next day, but I didn’t mind. I only had one more stop before getting home to a hot shower, reheated leftovers for dinner, and bed.
The ladies at the shelter and community center always looked at me like they were surprised to see me when I got there in the evenings, even though I visited several times a week. I handed Constance the basket, and Betty grabbed me by the sides of my face with her soft, grandmotherly hands and kissed my cheek.
“Such a sweet boy,” she said like she always did.
I was well into my thirties and a foot taller than her, but Betty always described me in just that same way. I didn’t mind it. She was the only one who could get away with it, but I didn’t mind it coming from her.
“What can I do today?” I asked, looking around to see if I could catch sight of anything that needed to be done.
The center always had things that needed attention, and whether I was there for a short time in the evenings or for the full day I spent there once a month, I tried to do as much as I could. Constance, the younger of the two, would try to brush off my offer and say the food I brought was more than enough, but Betty was never one to turn down much-needed assistance.
I stayed at the center for another couple of hours before making my way home.
