Page 13 of Storm Warning
“Yeah, that was a train wreck.” A stunned look lingers onDaisy’s face as she shrugs, almost as if the movement alone will erase the mess she just witnessed. “I’m proud of you for not freaking out on her. She was underwhelming across the board, and if I know anything, it’s that you wanted to tell her that.” Her comment is so spot on it makes me laugh. “I bet the next person will be better.”
“Feel free to give me an ounce of your positivity, I could use it.”
Sitting back down at the table, I shuffle the stack of resumes and glance over the next name on the list—Virginia Davies. Given she’s worked in a coffee shop before, she seems more promising and most likely knows what time a coffee shop is open, at least. I’m pulled from the papers once she enters the shop and I’m greeted by a friendly face. She’s tall and curvy, her skin a warm tawny color, and her ebony hair lays in soft curls that grace her shoulders. She’s dressed in basically the mirror image of something I’d wear—double layered tanks, low rise cargo pants, flip flops, and most importantly,pink.
I like her already.
“Hey.” Her greeting is friendly and her smile seems genuine, so we are already off to a better start than with the other girl. I stand from the table, outstretching my hand to greet her. “My name is Ginny.”
“I’m Kaylee, nice to meet you,” I reply, taking a seat while she does the same. Now, all I can hope for is that she doesn’t lead with something as stupid as the last girl, and doesn’t plan on finding a career elsewhere for the foreseeable future.
“I see here that you have previously worked at a coffee shop.” I scan her work experience for a second time. “It also says you have previous experience as a manager as well. Are you sufficient in both of those positions?”
She continues to smile. “Yes, absolutely. I worked in a coffee shop in my hometown as a teen, and then as a manager at the bookstore while I attended college. I absolutely loveworking with people, and I really missed working in a coffee shop because I find making drinks to be rather therapeutic.”
Hell must have frozen over. How did I find someone who not only has experience but also genuinely enjoys working at a coffee shop and needs little to no training? I try to dampen my excitement. I don’t want to seem desperate, though losing Daisy definitely makes me that much more worried about the workload.
“Perfect. Are you looking for a new job with your degree?” I hate to ask the question so bluntly, but I find it’s easier to just rip off the band-aid rather than find out later on.
She hesitates for a minute. “I decided to take a break from college and save up before I decide if I want to continue. Unfortunately, my parents can’t afford tuition, and it was incredibly draining trying to be a full time student and work on top of it.”
“What does your availability look like for the rest of this year?”
“I’d honestly like to work as much as possible, that way I can save up some money so I don’t have to delay school longer than necessary.”
I nearly groan as I feel the weight of carrying this shop on my own lift off my shoulders. And since she practically oozed exactly what I was hoping to find, I might as well just tell her exactly what I think.
“Perfect. I’m not one for formalities, so I’ll be honest and let you know I’d be happy to have you join the team! I planned to hire a few people, but with your previous background I actually think you would be perfect for the assistant manager position opening up. Of course, there will be training to make sure you’re the right fit, as well as training the other employees, but if everything goes smoothly, I think you will really enjoy it here.”
Her face is an open book, just like mine, and the shock thatresides behind her emerald eyes makes me let out a soft laugh. “That would be amazing, thank you so much for the opportunity!”
She beams earto ear but I’m honestly just as excited as she is because I needed the help and I’m actually excited to take it.
6
KAYLEE - JUNE 18, 2004
Another day,another cowboy that fucking pissed me off.
I honestly thought Hayes was maybe worth giving a chance after coming into the shop so many times just to order a plain ass coffee and to chat with me. But the world clearly hates me, because the day I decide to admit to him I tossed his number and wouldn’t mind getting it back is, coincidentally, the same day he decides to come in with a girl on his arm.
At first, I was going to blame myself. It would have been weird for him to wait around with little to no attention from me anyways, until another girl came into the shop and caught his stupid ass on a date. Apparently, the second one thought they were exclusive. Turns out the only thing he was committed to was the idea of having multiple girls at once. At this point, life’s done a damn good job of letting me eat my words every time I think I’ve found a man I am willing to give a chance to. But it’s probably my own damn fault, because I very obviously keep picking the ones with a fucking hat on their head or shit kickers on their feet.
I need a drink and Daisy’s new job puts me in the right place to have one.
The Westmore is the nicest bar on Broadway and arguably the most legit place to find talent, which is why Daisy always wants to be here, but my wardrobe doesn’t always seem to fit the vibe. Personally, I like to show a little skin—well, a lot of skin—and the people here are considerably more conservative with how they dress. Even the singers tend to dial back the glam, and to me that makes all of them seem a whole lot less interesting. But what do I know? The place is drenched in red velvet, from the curtains that cover the windows to the ones that frame the stage, and for whatever reason, it seems to be all of the female performers’ favorite color to toss on once they hit the stage. If I were to go up there, I’d try to stand out. Maybe an all white outfit, some gold or some glitter, and a bright teal colored guitar, or whatever.
I scoff as yet another performer graces the stage with a plain red dress.
Predictable.Boring.
I almost physically wave off the stage, but decide to regain focus where it matters: my drink.
We approach the dark oak-stained bar where my favorite barmaid always seems to reside—Nancy. Her gray hair is wrapped up in an effortless French twist, small curly pieces cascading down in front of her ears. She has the warmest gaze I’ve ever seen, and contrary to it, her eyes are a cool slate blue. Her smile brightens the entire place, and the moment she speaks, it feels like being embraced with a warm, welcoming hug. Her presence alone makes me smile even on days like today when I want to scream instead. As she tends to other customers, Daisy takes in tonight’s crowd. Her eyes are filled with wonder, as if she’s stepped right into one of the stories I used to read as a kid. Her dreamer attitude reminds me that they still exist, but years of being alone has made me cold to the idea that fairytales are anything beyond that.
Sliding in between the large cognac leather stools, I tracemy finger over the filigree imprinted into them. The same filigree that not only runs down their legs but across the front of the bar, is carved into other wood elements within the building as well. Whoever designed this place really left no detail unturned, each item connecting one way or another to create an environment that feels larger than life even if the rooms themself are not.
“I’ll take something fruity tonight, Miss Nancy.” My eyes glide over the drink menu that stands on the counter as I hum to the music playing in the bar around us. “Some Beach sounds perfect.”
