AllFreeNovel
Share Us
That’s all Victor said to me before he walked away in the park, just after he casually dropped the biggest offer of all time.
And I walked away too. I walked back across the street to work. I walked back into reality after that crazy offer from the most famous actor on the planet.
Yes, it was crazy. It was actually certifiably insane.
And I listened to him. I gave him the time of day to rant off some half-baked Hollywood scheme.
An offer to be his fake girlfriend? To pretend – act – like Victor Penmayne and I are in love? Star-crossed lovers? To have my picture flashed across social media? To be linked to the most eligible bachelor?
All that just so he can have the reputation needed to win some bigshot award?
These Penmaynes are out of this world. They live in an entirely different solar system than normal people.
They shouldn’t be allowed to talk to people like me.
“This coffee is with regular milk.”
Oh?
A customer has aggressively approached the counter and is glaring at me, lifting their coffee away from their body as if it’s radioactive waste.
I blink. Once. Twice.
And I am unfrozen. I am back to barista work mode. Back to being in The Oak having to do my job.
And the customer is very, very angry. It’s a middle-aged woman who I just served an almond latte to. And she is incorrect about the milk - I know I served her almond milk, and not regular milk, just as she asked for.
“Sorry?” I ask, getting her to repeat what she just said.
The customer’s eyes widen in fury.
“You gave me regular milk instead of the almond I asked for. Are you trying to kill me, girl?”
“I served you almond...”
“Listen to me,” she retorts. “Are you trying to kill me?”
What is she on about?
“I literally served you two minutes ago,” I say in as calm a way as I can, “and I made your coffee with almond milk. I even have the carton still here by the machine. I’m the one who made your coffee. I definitely used almond milk.”
“You’re a liar,” the woman snarls. “I’ve tasted it, and it tastes like regular milk. You’re a useless idiot.”
I sigh.
I’m not going to get emotional. I’m not going to cry simply because someone is mean.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask her. “How can I fix this inconvenience for you?”
“Make me another one,” the customer sneers. “And this time I’ll watch you so that you can’t lie again.”
And so I make her another coffee. And I use the same carton of almond milk as I used the first time. And the woman watches me intently with beady eyes. And I pass her the new coffee and she leaves the old one on the counter.
And, as she staggers back to her seat, I taste the old coffee. And I taste nothing but almond milk.
And I feel totally, totally defeated.
What am I doing here? Why am I letting myself be treated like this?
