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A voice that stirs up my insides scrapes from behind me.
“Those are the rules, Ms. Brill.” I spin around to look into those eyes. My defiance melts on contact, like my underwear. I hear all the others shift in their seats.
“Every coffee entry has the same chance.” Sarcasm and superiority drip from his lips. He looks from one girl to the next. “Would you all like to bring your entries into the boardroom?”
He turns back to me with an eyebrow arched, “Unless any of you would prefer to leave in protest.”
A bubble of hot java stirs inside me.
He opens a door marked ‘Boardroom,’ and he extends an arm and opens his hand to invite us in.
When the barista from Perk-U-Up stands, she lifts a cooler. I smile at her with respect and admiration. She doesn’t respond.
We all line up on one side of the table.
Each of us presents our shot of espresso into the middle of the table, then we sit.
“I’ll taste the coffees in the order in which you arrived.” He slides a look at me, and my treacherous insides fizz like he lit a fuse in me.
Only half of us — the Perk-U-Up entry, mine and the mug from Ollie’s Corner — have china cups. That gives us an advantage for the taste and aroma, but I realize, a disadvantage for temperature. Our coffees will be less hot.
Whoever was in charge of Perk-U-Up’s delivery was smarter than Henry. The cooler is lined, and a cup, that I guess must have been heated, is in a silver thermal wrap. I think she’s likely to win.
Jackson Caine tastes one sip from each coffee. He holds it in his mouth for a moment, rolling it on his tongue. Then he takes a sip from a water glass with a slice of lemon and moves to the next cup. He makes no comment and his face gives nothing away.
He tastes from my cup last.
Then, still standing, he looks along the table.
“You must all have realized that the two entries that came in containers to protect their heat are the front runners. The rest of you, thank you for bringing your coffee. You may leave.”
The four baristas frown as they collect their belongings and make their way to the door. My stomach knots a little as I feel for how their bosses are going to react to the news.
When the door is shut, Jackson Caine says, “There’s a clear winner, and it’s not a hard choice.” He looks at the two of us in turn. “Thank you for coming. One of the other entrants would have stood a chance if they had thought to insulate their coffee. So, congratulations for being the only two who could have won. If you had anything to do with that decision, your bosses should be grateful to you.”
He opens the door again. “I will contact one of your employers after you leave.”
The blonde girl’s face tightens.
I stand. “You’re not going to let either of us know your decision? That’s not exactly fair, is it?”
“If it’s fairness you want, Ms. Brill, perhaps you should work in a Sunday school.” He pulls the door open a little wider. “Thank you both.”
Stepping out, I pass uncomfortably close to him. I get a buzz like walking past a radio mast or a microwave oven.
In the elevator, the girl in plaid offers her hand. “I’m Krista. I think you won. I watched his face.”
I tell her, “My boss didn’t understand that a good cooler keeps things hot as well as cold.”
She blinks. “How does he survive in the catering business?”
I shrug. “I’m guessing that will have clinched the deal for you.”
“I don’t know.” She smiles. “I caught the aroma of your brew.”
When the elevator doors slide open, a uniformed security guard stands in front of us.
“Ms. Brill.” He looks at us both.
