She writes it down. “The Boyfriend thanks you.”
I smile and affirm. “Yeah he does.”
As the afternoon ambles on Shelly randomly fires questions at me while we work. I guess she’s decided my taste in music doesn’t suck. This must be part two of the music challenge.
“Name your top three favorite female singers.” Her eyes are narrow and twinkling. “And so help me God, if you say one damn pop princess you’re fired.”
I laugh at the threat. I could answer this question in my sleep. “Top three? Number one: Romy Madley Croft from the xx. Number two: Alison Moyet from Yaz. And number three: Johnette Napolitanos from Concrete Blonde. Honorable mention, because I’ve been listening to them a lot this week, goes to the chick from Royal Thunder. She can wail.”
“How about best guitar player?”
“My best friend.”
She looks doubtful. “All the great guitar players out there and you’re going to say your best friend?”
I smile back. “Absolutely.”
“Okay. Best bass player?”
“Easy. Silversun Pickups’ Nikki Monninger. Her bass lines are wicked. Plus she wears pretty dresses when she performs—so she’s badass and classy at the same time. I like that.”
“Best punk band?”
“Teenage Bottlerocket. Their live shows kick ass. So much fun to watch and the mosh pit is always raging.”
“Most underrated band?”
“Hands down, Dredg.”
“Who?”
“Exactly. It’s a travesty. Dredg should be a household name.”
“If you could meet any band or musician, who would it be?”
“I think it would cool as shit to hang out with Dave Grohl. He seems so nice, humble. You know, just a normal dude. Except that he’s crazy talented.” Shelly smiles at this, and I smile back.
It’s 7:00 when she unplugs her dock and hands me my iPod. “Well Kate, I do believe I’ve found the ultimate dealer.” She’s got her list in hand. “I’ve got to pick some of this up.”
I appreciate the compliment. “I’m glad you liked it.” I bow. “My job here is done.”
She rolls her eyes. “You wanna grab some pizza tonight? The Boyfriend and his roommate and I are going over to Red Lion Road later for beer and pizza. We can pick you up.” And just like that Shelly’s no longer intimidating. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, but for some reason she’s warmed up to me. And the truth is, I like her, too.
“Dude, I’m sorry but I can’t. I’ve got homework and I promised Clayton I’d eat with him tonight.”
She smirks. “A date with the raver?”
“Nope. Just an evening of platonic fine dining at the cafeteria.”
She pulls her apron over her head. “Well, you’re no fun.”
“I really am sorry, dude, thanks for asking. Another time, okay?” The truth is I don’t have any extra money. I’ve got five dollars that needs to last until Friday when I get paid. That probably wouldn’t even buy me a slice of pizza and the beer I’m not old enough to purchase. But I can’t tell her that. I won’t become the charity case. And the cafeteria is free. Besides, I can already taste the $1.57 cup of coffee from Grounds, the one I’ll grab on my way to Literature tomorrow morning. Since the dorms don’t allow coffee makers (even the Holy Grail), and the cafeteria coffee tastes like mud, I’ve got my heart set on that cup. I need those five dollars.
Tuesday, August 30
(Keller)
The bell rings and it’s instinct to look. It’s not so much a trained reaction as it is involuntary curiosity. Since Romero had an appointment early this morning, I’m working the coffee bar solo until he returns.
The first thing I notice about her is how utterly tiny she is. Then I notice her clothes, her whole look; she’s not from around here. The third is the scowl on her face, pointed at the bell hanging from the door. I get the feeling she has history with this bell. She’s the cutest thing I’ve seen in a long time. The kind of cute that makes you smile, even if you don’t want to. As she approaches the counter, the scowl vanishes, replaced by the most genuine, sincere smile. Smiles aren’t always happy, but hers is. It’s open, content, and confident. She looks friendly in the most literal sense of the word, like you’d swear you’ve known her for years and she knows all your secrets. And still likes you in spite of them.
After what I realize is an exaggerated pause on my part, I smile and offer my standard greeting, “Welcome to Grounds. What can I get for ya?” I realize that I sound much more excited than usual, and I clear my throat.
Her smile deepens, like she knows this is out-of-character for me, and when it hits her eyes they smile, too. They’re the palest shade of jade and tell a story all their own. Then it hits me how beautiful this woman is. Like a freight train it hits me; from her eyes, to her smile, to her wavy sunshine-blond hair, to her petite but exceptionally well proportioned body. Everything about her is beautiful.
Her magical eyes and mouth are still smiling at me. “Good morning.”
Her voice is so sexy. I can’t explain the sound, but it lands somewhere deep inside me and takes root. It’s the kind of voice you don’t hear as much as you feel. And as soon as I feel it, I want to feel it again … and again. I find myself trying to match her smile. The right corner of my mouth pulls up. “Good morning to you.” I may be losing my mind, but I don’t want this time with her to end too fast. So I flirt. Which I haven’t done in such a long time. “Let me guess, caramel cappuccino, soy, no whip?”