Page 32 of An Espresso Machine’s Guide to Love & Mischief

As I do, I spot a minivan pulling out of the nearby alley. Normally, I wouldn’t even notice a random minivan in a city full of them—but there’s a clown with a puffy red nose and a rainbow wig behind the wheel. Shouldn’t he be in a very tiny car?

The shirtless, tattooed bodybuilder in the passenger seat grips the dashboard. He looks like he’d enjoy my special ABC juice.

And then I spot it—the large, red espresso machine on the back seat.

Chapter 15

Ben

I turn from Fletcher to the minivan and back again. “Your espresso machine… is she red?”

“Yeah,” he says with his mouth full.

The espresso machine in the minivan is red. I can’t seem to take my eyes off it. “Hmm… is she very shiny?”

Fletcher sits up a bit straighter. “Yeah, that too.”

A Shetland pony races out of the alley and chases after the van. “And does Nephrite have a round stomach and short little legs?” I ask.

“In pony form, yeah. How did you know all that?”

“They’re right over there.” I point down King Street, where the van skids to a stop behind a street car. Nephrite the pony catches up to it and lifts her front hooves onto the back bumper like she’s trying to hold the car in place.

Fletcher stands and gazes at the van with wide eyes. “That’s Diva!” He breaks into a run, dropping the open bottle of ABC juice I made for him. Sticky red liquid pours out onto the sidewalk. It looks a lot like blood.

“What a waste,” I say as I bite into the remaining topokki. Why is Fletcher chasing after Diva? Wouldn’t it make more sense for her and her odd-looking friends to join us instead? Maybe he’s asking them to come over.

“I could make ABC juice for everyone!” I shout after Fletcher.

“They’re stealing Diva!” he shouts back.

I blink in surprise. How dare that clown take my best friend’s… girl? Machine? Sex toy? Whatever she is, she matters to Fletcher, so I break into a run toward the minivan.

Luckily, I do my best thinking at the office gym, so I have no trouble catching up to Fletcher. We’re halfway to the van when it tries to change lanes. A cyclist zooms by, and the sound of squealing brakes echoes down the street as the van stops on a diagonal, nearly hitting the middle-aged man in spandex.

Our sneakers echo on the pavement as Fletcher and I race toward the van, and I finally get a closer look at the shiny red espresso machine.

She makes my heart race. Like I’ve been running a whole lot longer than I already have.

The entire world comes to a halt in that one moment—and I do, too. Mouth agape, I stand and stare at her, transfixed by her beauty.

“Soulmate,” I say.

Wait, what? Is a fetish for coffee machines contagious? Did I catch it from Fletcher?

I don’t have time to wonder about it now, because Diva is being kidnapped. I break into a run again.

I stop to hand my untouched ABC juice to the homeless man from earlier and race after Fletcher, who’s almost reached the van, the pony, and my beautiful espresso machine.

I can’t wait to wrap my arms around her and nuzzle her cool metal side. I don’t drink coffee—I’ve never liked it—but I’d learn to, for her.

Fletcher pounds on the passenger side window of the minivan. “Open up!”

I reach the side of the van and stop. What do I do? What do I do? The last fight I was in was in elementary school—I skunk sprayed a bully and nobody ever tried to fight me again. They called me Smelly Ben, though. So it wasn’t a complete success.

Fletcher opens his mouth wide to show the kidnappers his teeth—his possum’s way of convincing the enemy to back off because he’s one scary fucker. The shirtless bodybuilder in the passenger seat stares at him, but doesn’t open the door.

Nephrite turns around and kicks the back door with her little pony legs, making the van shudder. The clown still doesn’t let Diva out.