My heart skips a beat. I don抰 know whether to laugh or worry or smack this Neanderthal across the face.
揋o ahead. Right after you do, I抣l hop on the Tok and review your 憄erfectly fine big chain?coffee. I抣l be sure to mention why I抦 banned. You want to see big numbers on social media? Just wait for that drama.?
His lip curls, baring a hint of polished white teeth as I inch closer, breathing in his ear.
My entire body bristles.
I want to believe it抯 just hot rage as I brush his shoulder梑ut damn him, those biceps are ripped.
揂re you fucking done yet??he whispers back.
揘o. While we抮e waiting for TikTok to blow up, I抣l call corporate for good measure. Someone needs to tell the powers that be that some little pencil-dicked district monster goes around impersonating the owner and harassing customers and senior employees. How does that sound??
For the girl抯 sake, I try to keep it down.
Apparently, it doesn抰 work.
A couple shaky gasps spill out of the crowd around us.
He raises one eyebrow. He抯 either disgustingly amused or about to shove me to the floor.
Also, he has the bluest eyes God ever made. Annoying.
I wish those eyes weren抰 attached to a throat with a tone that抯 condescending enough to curl my hair when he says, 揥hen you do that, you抣l talk to Katelyn Storm, my lovely assistant. She handles my incoming calls to corporate. She will tell you that pencil-dicked monster signs his papers with an instrument bigger than an oak branch. Because I抦 the owner.?
Eep. I swear, it抯 just the anger that抯 making me blush redder than poor Wayne.
揧ou can cut the crap. No way do I believe a CEO of a company this large just walks through into some downtown store. You抮e a bad liar.?
For a moment, he stares at me. I抦 just waiting for laser beams to shoot out of his eyes.
揧ou really don抰 believe me, lady??His voice is a rumbling storm.
揕ady? Is that how you talk to your customers? I thought the northwest was more progressive.?
揌uh??
揧ou don抰 even know me,?I throw back.
揧eah, and I wish we抎 never met,?he whispers with a cutting glance. 揧ou抮e right about why chains fail梬e don抰 know our customer. Where are you from??
揝an Diego, originally. I came here a few years ago.?
揟hat would explain it. Seattleites aren抰 so in-your-face.?
I stare at him, trying to decipher what sounds like a backhanded insult.
A couple of other baristas just trailing in for the morning rush appear behind the counter. They stand around Wayne awkwardly, their eyes flicking to the corporate sharks, wondering what they抳e walked into.
Whatever. I don抰 have time to worry about them.
I need to deal with this jerk and scram. We抳e both got better things to do than carry on a grudge match in a coffee shop.
揝o you抮e saying it抯 totally cool to harass customers? That抯 not the Seattle I know.?My lip juts out as I hit him with my best resting bitch-face.
揥hen the customer decides to involve herself in corporate matters she knows nothing about棓
揙h. Okay. Because you don抰 plaster your stores with signs welcoming feedback.?I turn and gesture to one on the opposite wall. It has a smiley face with lightning bolts for eyes and says, Share the Spark! Review us today.
The kingpin stares like he抯 trying to decide just how much he抣l have to pay some hitman to chuck me into the Puget Sound.
I抦 in this far, so why stop now?
揥hat? No nasty comeback??I snap. 揇o you have a PhD in coffee chemistry from the U of Ego to go with your area manager role??
揈liza棓 Wayne clears his throat loudly.
揑抦 not a damn manager.?Suit cuts him off. 揑f you were listening, you抎 know I own this chain. I halfway grew up on a coffee farm. So yes, I know more about coffee than some dramatic SoCal girl who grew up lounging around on Carbon Beach and training her mouth to choke on conflicts with strangers.?
Holy shit.
My jaw drops before I reel it in and set my mouth so tight my teeth hurt.
He didn抰.
But he did.
He also made one big fat mistake that抯 going to cost him dearly.
揈liza棓 Wayne warns with a choppy wave.
I put up a hand to quiet him. It抯 all right. I抳e got this.
Wayne doesn抰 need to fight my battles with this rattlesnake of a man who shouldn抰 even be in charge of dusting the place.
揙kay, chain owner, if that抯 truly what you are,?I say slowly. 揑 get it. No need to rub it in. You were so busy mastering coffee that you didn抰 learn geography, right? Because San Diego is over a hundred and twenty miles from Carbon Beach, genius.?
A collective gasp fills the room, starting with entourage and spreading behind the counter.
One of the young girls on Wayne抯 crew bolts, covering her mouth to hold in terrified laughs before she flies out the back exit.
The shop goes dead silent.
All except for the teenager in the corner letting out slow, strained laughter through her fingers.
揈liza!?Wayne抯 eyes are bulging now. His barrel of a chest rises and falls in shallow breaths behind his apron.
Oops. I抳e crossed the line where I抦 doing more harm than good.
The Grumpfather clears his throat like he抯 been chewing broken glass, drawing my attention back to him.
揙kay, okay.?I hold my hands up defensively. 揟hat came out a little harsh. I抳e submitted my feedback, so if you don抰 mind I抣l just棓
揧ou抮e going to rue ever having this conversation with me, I think, when you finally learn the truth,?he rumbles, his brows pulled low like storm clouds.
Hey, at least I tried.
I let out a hissing sigh.
揧ou want the truth??I ask quietly. 揑抦 guessing not, but apparently everyone who works here is way too scared to say it. I don抰 have anything to lose except Wired Cup access for life. So, here it is梱ou, sir, could sink in a pool of perfectly pressed dark roast and not know you were drowning in good coffee. This棓 I hold up the cup again. 揟his serves its purpose, and I know my coffee棓
揂nd what do you think its purpose is??he clips.
揑t makes Wired Cup what it抯 supposed to be.?
He tosses his head impatiently, as if to say, spit it the fuck out.
揊amiliar. Comfortable. Easy,?I say. 揑t抯 a decent brew of a decent bean that抯 easily accessible to busy and decent middle-class people.?
He exhales sharply. 揊orgive me if I don抰 find a college kid calling my family抯 legacy 慸ecent?until the word loses its meaning high praise.?
I don抰 bother telling him to drop the act again. That ship has sailed.
揑抦 not a college kid.?
揂nd I, apparently, am not the owner of this business.?
揈liza...?Wayne sounds defeated, like a man begging for his life after he抯 already been crushed up in a wreck.
Ouch. Now I remember why we抮e doing this as I look at him.
He gives me a miserable look and says, 揝orry. I should have spoken up sooner. Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Cole Lancaster, the owner of Wired Cup Incorporated梐nd our CEO.?
Every eye in the room sticks to me.
I wonder if they can hear the floor crumbling under me.
揅EO? Him??I hiss, pursing my lips.
Wayne nods heavily.
揅hief Executive Officer,?Lancaster says. Like I don抰 know what it stands for.
My eyes follow his voice and land on his atrociously grumpy face again.
Only, this time, he holds out a business card with the Wired Cup logo on it梐n elegant-looking coffee cup plugged into an outlet.
I don抰 take it. I just read.
Underneath it, plain as day, are the words COLE LANCASTER桟EO.
Before he even speaks, I realize with some horror why I抳e heard the name Lancaster before. When you抮e so obsessed with coffee you抳e read the Wikipedia entry for every major brand, certain names stick. The Lancasters are basically caffeinated royalty.
I抦 sure he can hear my gulp.
揑f you抮e any bit the expert you claim to be, I trust you抳e heard of us. My father was the CEO before me. My family founded this company long before it was ever called Wired Cup.?
The woman who stands beside him covers her face with one hand. I can抰 tell if she抯 trying to hide mortified laughter or disappear.
It doesn抰 work. All the other suits burst into laughter at the way she looks.