The Rusty Old Minivan

Chapter 9

A woman in a bright red coat and giant scarf was walking a Chihuahua on a rhinestone-leash outside the window. The dog was wearing a tiny little coat, matching hers. It was barking eagerly at a Golden Retriever, whose owner was fighting to keep an iPhone 7 crammed between his ear and shoulder as he tugged on the leash of his dog and tried not to spill Starbucks coffee on his screaming white Jordan's.

"Oi. Are you deaf or something?" Louis blinked, snapping himself out of his daze. A man in a long black trench coat, wearing sunglasses insidein September, was snapping his fingers impatiently at Louis' face. "I asked for an espresso - extra strong, and a cinnamon roll."

"Right. Sorry sir." Louis nodded, turning to get the man his order, but feeling like it'd slipped in one ear and seeped out the other.

Zayn shot him a pitying look from the other end of the bar as the man behind him kept sighing intentionally loud to signal his impatience. Louis wanted to explain to him that no matter how fast he worked, he couldn't fucking speed up the process of the fucking espresso-machine, but he didn't. He wanted to explain that he couldn't fucking control the fact that Zayn had just sold the last fucking cinnamon roll to the fucking costumer before him, but he didn't.

He gave the man his coffee and a smile that made his skin feel like plastic cracking at the spread of it. "Anything else?"

"No thanks. Don't think I can trust you with it."

Louis ignored the jab. He was better than someone taking out their own stress on him. He was better than losing his job over someone like this guy. He smiled again and even offered a cheery "have a nice day, sir".

And then, "just a little tip, young man," the man leant over the desk as if he were about to share a deep cherished secret with Louis, "don't be window-gazing when you're on the till. I know you're probably just waiting to get home and smoke weed and play videogames, but you know, just... when you're on the job, for just a few sodding hours; try to be a little bit adult about it." He gave a patronizing head-nod and a smile so far off kindness it was borderline vicious. "Yeah?"

Louis' jaw clenched up tight. He stared at the dick in front of him, was pretty sure he looked like a maniac with his smile still taped across the bottom-half of his face, but didn't give a shit. His insides were sizzling. Sizzling. His hands were clenched so hard around the edge of the counter that his muscles tensed all the way up through his forearms.

He opened his mouth to shout or scream or to use his sharp tongue to destroy this man through to his very core, but then, right in that second, he felt a hand slapped onto his back. "Lou, you've got another costumer," Zayn said hurriedly, nodding to the woman standing behind the pretentious wanker. "You gonna take her or shall I?"

"I will," Louis replied, and the douche-face had walked off in the meantime, which was a very smart choice.

The little old lady behind him came to the desk, making eyes, "what a fucking arsehole, eh?"

Louis breathed a chuckle out through his nose. "Yeah."

"Well, don't worry about him," she smiled, scrunching her little nose, "you can let people get to you or you can let them go fuck themselves. Your own choice."

"Yeah..." Louis said, smiling back at her, "so, what can I get you, love?"

-

"So, how's it going with your new man?" Zayn asked as they were closing up later that evening.

Louis glanced up from the cash-till where he was trying to collect his thoughts enough to count up the money. The thing with Harry was, essentially, that it seemed to be going well, and then, suddenly, it seemed to be going nowhere. Harry had left in a hurry the morning after he'd slept over at Louis', with a quick pally hand-shake. Louis had texted him a day later, just a funny little remark. So far he hadn't gotten a reply. That was a week ago.