Call Me Ghost ✔️

Chapter Thirty-Six

"I'll have a medium soy-milk latte, iced, blended, no foam, two pumps of caramel."

My customer service smile falters as I regard the middle-aged woman in front of me who hasn't even glanced up from her cell phone as she relays her complicated order. My fingers hover over the register screen as I search desperately for the right button. Is soy extra? Is caramel extra? You'd think after two weeks of working here I'd have this down by now.

"Uh," I purse my lips together, pressing what I hope is the right sequence, and nervously read off the amount, "That'll be $7.72."

The lady finally draws her attention to me, and I recoil at the cold look in her eyes, "It's normally $5.45. Did you raise your prices? This is bullshit, I've been coming here every day for the past four years, getting the same order every single time, I'm a loyal customer. You can't treat your customers like this. This is an outrage! Let me speak to your manager!"

"Uh, Max!" I nervously call out over my shoulder, my voice wavering. I'm still not used to the aggression people seem to have no problem showing service industry workers, especially when it comes to their precious coffee.

Max, the college freshman who's been training me for the past two weeks, quickly appears beside me, flashing the woman a very kind, very patient smile, "I'm so sorry for the mix-up, ma'am. No, we have not raised our prices. She's still in training, she just hasn't quite learned the system yet. I can finish ringing you up if you like?"

The woman huffs, sticking her nose up as she regards both of us with disgust, before finally accepting that I've made a simple mistake, "Fine." Her eyes flash towards me and I can see the fire behind them as she remarks, "But don't let her anywhere near my order. I don't want to have to get it remade when she messes it up."

I remind myself that I'm at work, and as much as I may want to, I can't curse at this woman. I just press my lips together tightly and cast a forlorn glance at Max. He nods his head slightly at me before muttering quietly, "Why don't you go wipe down some tables? I'll take care of this."

I nod my head and silently shuffle away, making sure not to even glance in the woman's direction for fear that she may start spitting out fire. I grab the rag and spray bottle from beneath the counter, before rounding it to the sitting area of the shop and spraying down the already clean table tops.

Just another lovely day of work.

At least it's payday, that somewhat raises my spirits. I'm not expecting it to be any life-changing amount of money, but it will be nice to see the fruits of my labor.

My eyes glance at the clock on the wall and I internally sigh when I see there's still an hour left to my shift. My schedule is all mornings, and they really drag on when I'm expected to be here by six in the morning, and can't leave until three, with no lunch break in between.

It's been especially difficult because I feel like I've hardly seen Ghost at all in the past few weeks. Ever since his big news he's been training nonstop at the gym, putting more work into his boxing than ever. He's there training and working out for at least half of the day.

I understand his commitment, but it has sucked. Which is why I'm so anxious to get off work today. It's fight night at The Scrap, and we're all going. Ghost isn't fighting, he's too paranoid about getting injured before Vegas, but it will still be fun to watch.

Best part is, Troy won't be there. After he stormed out of the club that night, he hasn't been around since, and it seems everyone in the group has silently accepted that. I don't know if Ghost talked to them all individually about it, or if they just saw this inevitably happening, but for whatever reason, no one seems particularly surprised. Or heartbroken.