揘ot third-degree mouth burns,?he grumbles.
I smile. 揑 hardly ever brew past one eighty-five. It抯 too easy for the coffee blooms to go wrong and start messing with the flavor.?
He squints at me, blowing on the coffee and taking another sip. 揟he temp抯 that important??
揟otally. The more original oils left intact, the better...?
揑t抯 good stuff. You took my pig iron idea and turned it into gold,?he says with a wink that makes Meadow roll her eyes. 揥hat抯 the new spin on this one? You named it yet??
I grin. 揑抦 tentatively calling it West Coast Day Trip. I used avocado wood to roast the beans棓
揜ight. Because of the oil.?Wyatt smiles, stroking his beard while Meadow leans on his shoulder.
God, it抯 so good to see him well again.
It seems like only yesterday when he was laid up in the hospital at death抯 door, and if it wasn抰 for the bosshole who married my bestie桰 shudder to think what would抳e happened to him next.
揑t抯 a super slow roast,?I say. 揑 spent half the night working on it. I threw in a few watermelon seeds with the beans on a whim for some extra depth.?
揂h, that抯 why it抯 sweeter than your usual brew,?Meadow chimes in after stealing a sip from his cup. 揥ow, you抳e got a brain for this.?
揑 just wanted the West Coast in a cup. With every sip, you抮e experiencing SoCal, moving up the Pacific highway, all the way through Oregon and Washington.?
揥ow,?Meadow whispers again.
I grab her a fresh cup, but she stops me before I can pour very much coffee.
揟ake more,?I urge.
揙h, no. There are so many people here. It抯 easier for me to get good coffee anytime. They can抰.?
She抯 such a sweetheart. And still so terrified of wasting anything after living a hard life on the streets. I take her cup and top it off generously.
When I look up, there抯 a familiar balding head with a beard wilder than Wyatt抯. I wave frantically.
Wayne locks up his bike on the rack nearby and jogs over.
揈liza, how are you??he asks. Thankfully with a smile and not a hint of anything that screams you cost me my freaking job.
揋ood,?I say, a little shyly.
I want to ask about yesterday so badly.
Like, how much hell did I leave in his lap? But I抦 not sure how to approach it. He抯 not pissed, anyway. Hopefully that抯 a good sign.
But with the crowd moving in, we抣l have to catch up later.
Several people from the camp wander up to the table in a slow, shuffling line. Meadow offers baked goods and sandwiches while I pour coffee.
I pick up a rating card and a pen, passing them over.
揌i, thanks for coming. Would you mind letting me know how you like the coffee??
揝ure, hon, but I bet it抯 tasty.?A woman takes the cup, card, and pen.
I smile at her. 揑f there抯 anything at all you don抰 like about it梐ny way it could use improvement梔on抰 hold back. Please. I can always do better next time.?
She gives me a toothless grin. 揙h, honey, no. You always do just fine by us.?
揧eah, but I have to do better than fine if I抦 ever going to convince someone to pay me for it, right??I抦 feeling a twinge of d閖?vu. My mind flips back to the conversation with Cole Asshat Lancaster yesterday梐 butting of heads I抳e been trying and failing to keep out of my mind.
Out of the corner of my eye, Wayne stiffens like he can抰 believe what I just said.
Frick.
Maybe I did do some real damage yesterday.
She pats me on the shoulder. 揚eople will pay you for it, doll. Waking up with this beats any old alarm clock.?
I give her a friendly smile, but seeing how genuine she is makes me sad. She抯 old enough to be my grandma.
Where are her own grandkids and why do they let her live on the street? I wonder. This is the hard part of coming here twice a month.
She leaves with her drink and a small stack of donuts. I serve the next person, going through my spiel about the rating card.
I know.
Some people might ask why I bother scrounging up feedback from homeless people, who should just be happy with whatever they can get. But the truth is, their opinions are just as valid as anyone抯.
Maybe more so.
The homeless are honest. When you have nothing material left to lose, why hold back?
Wayne moves closer as the line churns on, offering me a hand with filling cups. Is it just my imagination, or is he still pretty stiff and nervous?
Once our first cluster moves on and there抯 a break, I turn to him and ask, 揝o, how抮e you holding up? That jerk of a suit didn抰 fire you, right??
I hold my breath.
If he did, it抯 a thousand percent my fault.
揘ah...not exactly,?Wayne says cryptically, smiling when I give him a confused look. 揂ctually, the big boss was impressed with your coffee, Eliza.?
Huh? What抯 he talking about?
揗y coffee??
Wayne nods again.
揥hat on earth are you梠h, crap.?It suddenly hits me so hard I rock back. 揧ikes. I forgot my mason jar of home brew there, didn抰 I??
Wayne抯 lips turn up slightly in a sheepish grin. 揌ey, it could happen to anyone after the shit he threw at you.?
揢gh, don抰 tell me. Mr. Gold Dick himself stooped down and deigned to梩o what? Try it??The idea of that corporate maniac with his priceless suit and eyes like pure blue sorcery drinking my campfire roast freaks me out. I抦 not sure why.
Maybe because it抯 too intimate.
Right now, that drink is for me, a few select friends, and helps warm a few desperate bellies at a place like this. Definitely not intended for overdressed pricks who go off on coffee like they抳e had their own mother insulted in the worst way.
It抯 a campfire roast and it抯 supposed to be fun. I can抰 believe the Grumpfather even knows the concept.
Wayne chuckles, shaking his head.
揈xactly. The kid dove in and took the first swig, but he wasn抰 far behind her. Honestly, it seems like he wants to offer you桰 don抰 know梐n opportunity with your brew? To buy it? A job? I抦 not sure. He just wants to talk to you first.?
There goes my head. Spinning.
揥hat? Why, Wayne? Why would he just up and offer me a job? Especially after I gave him an attitude check for the ages. He seemed pissed about that.?
揑n fairness, he had it coming. Maybe he appreciates being called out??Wayne suggests.
The laugh that tears out of me hurts.
There抯 no earthly way a walking ego like Cole Lancaster enjoys the bruises I left on his pride.
I have to stop for a few more people coming to our table. I hook them up with breakfast and try not to faint in the meantime.
Once they抮e gone, Wayne sighs and says, 揙kay, E. I gotta be honest. He chatted me up after you left and I promised him you抎 get in touch. I hate putting you on the spot, but he offered me a bonus棓
I stare at him.
He holds his hands up.
揕ike I said. I don抰 want to twist your arm. I know you don抰 do corporate. It抯 just梬ell, mom, you know梙er insurance wouldn抰 even cover the last round of diabetic stuff. We抮e strapped for cash and I need the money, so I抦 asking梑egging梚f there抯 any chance you抎 just hear him out? I抎 be grateful as hell if you did.?
My heart plunges into my belly.
I抦 stunned and annoyed at myself for feeling frustrated when Wayne抯 giving me those big puppy dog eyes. How can I be pissed at a man who抯 just trying to do right by his sick mother?
揥ayne, it抯 cool, but I have to be honest...I抦 not keen on doing anything for that jackass.?
揧eah, I knew you抎 say that, but I had to mention it anyway. After yesterday, I didn抰 think there was a snowball抯 chance in hell you抎 ever work for Wired Cup. But I figured you might be willing to talk to him, see what he wants.?
My mind races in the silence between us.
揧ou thought right. I wouldn抰 work for that dude if he was offering a whole coffee farm.?