Later.
The clock read 6:30. I have work in like thirty minutes; I figure that I can take a shower and be dressed in uniform before I am actually late.
When I'm ready, in my not-so-uniform uniform, I head out. I'm guessing Grace is in the spare room getting ready for whatever's going tonight. I can hear her playing what sounds like Icona Pop's I love it. To clean things up, my work uniform is basically just a dress code. I can wear whatever as long as I keep everything covered, etcetera. The only thing really mandatory would be the annoying apron they have me wear. Though, at The Blue Room, there is not code; seriously if I wanted I could go clad in only my boxer-briefs if I wanted to.
The drive there isn't bad, traffics a little nauseating, but other than that it's honestly pretty bearable. In the mist of the country music blowing softly through the speakers of the white Honda (it's literally the only station this piece of shit receives) and the angry honks throughout the ride, my mind wonders to Grace. Shes staying for a year. A whole fucking year. In our apartment. I wasn't sure how I felt about it all. I haven't even thought about it, not until now at least. But, I don't even have time to think about it; I barely have enough time to think. Even if I don't actually talk much, I'm never really thinking. If I am I'm thinking about her, and that never exactly ends well. Then again, nothing ever really ends well if you ask me. Life doesn't end well. Friendships never end well. Relationships never end well. Nothing ends well, because in the end... You will die, they will die, and one of you will end up stuck in an unexplainable misery. And if your anything like I, you will cut of the world and soak in the misery like white on rice.
I pull into Pour L'amour De Café shortly not necessarily wanting to go serve coffee to wannabe-hipsters, but it pays well. We don't get many customers, mostly college kids on their Macs and PCs'; an occasional coffee date every now and then. I believe that the only exciting thing that's ever happened here is about a year ago, when a woman's water broke as I had to call an ambulance. Not wanting to mention that I was also the one to had to clean up the unknown bodily fluid puddled on the wooden floor.
"Styles, your a minute late."
"Really? a minute? what are you going to do, fire one of your only staff?" that got me the eye of evil from my manager, Jonah.
"Get to work." He said throwing me my waist apron and stalking off to the back; probably to the break room to go answer a call from his overly clingy girlfriend, Veronica. She called the front desk one day, I happened to answer, and she cursed me for literally everything I had. After that incident, she is strictly to only call the break room phone or his personal. I feel kinda bad for the lad at times, but I know she means well.
Business is slow, I spend my time on my cell in attempt to waste my next two hours of the job. That is until the bell rings and I see her sway her hips to the register.
"Hey Harry!" she booms toward me over the low alternative music.
"Shhh," I shush her loud tone looking around and silently sending apologies to the costumers through eye contact, "What are you doing here? How the fuck did you get here?"
"I called a cab. Cost me twenty bucks but I needed a coffee and I though to myself, 'I know exactly who works at a really good shop' so why the fuck not, Harry. Now, what do you recommend?" I shake my head stifling a chortle.
"Coffee wise? Well, as you know,I'm not much of a coffee drinker, but I do recommend the Lucky Charm. It's made with an imported irish creme, it's pretty popular for a desert drink."
"Well I haven't even had dinner, so ill take it." sure, it didn't make much sense, but whatever's best for the customer is good to me.
