The Espressologist (15 page)

“This is so wild,” I say. “I'm going to go put my stuff down and relieve Daisy. She's giving me a dirty look. Not that that's a new thing.” I head toward the break room. I can feel everyone's eyes following me. It's hard having so many people stare at you! I'm going to have to run to the bathroom and make sure I don't have a booger hanging out of my nose or anything.

I've been taking orders for about an hour or so now and I'm semi–getting used to people staring at me. I'd really rather they not stare, but it isn't nearly as jarring as it was for the first fifteen minutes or so. I suddenly feel a whoosh of happiness as I see my number-one former regular come through the door.

“Gavin! I'm so glad to see you. Where've you been? Did you give up coffee?” Gavin steps up to the register, leans over, and gives me a big smooch on the cheek.

“Hey, Jane.”

“Ooh la la, what was the kiss for? Not that I'm complaining or anything.”

“For finding me the love of my life,” he says emphatically.

“Simone?” I ask.

“Yeah. She's wonderful, she's just . . . everything to me. We're totally in love.”

“Oh, Gavin, I'm sooooo happy for you! Here, let me pay for your iced vanilla latte today. You know you were my first Espressology match, right?” I ask.

“No. I didn't even know you matched me until Simone told me how you hooked us up and Sarah explained the whole Espressology thing. I had to come in to see for myself.”

“Yeah, where have you been? You used to come in every day. What happened?”

He looks at me sheepishly. “We've been going to the Wired Joe's near Simone's apartment.”

I grin. “You two-timer!”

“I knew you were going to say that,” he says, laughing.

“So, it's like that, huh? A girl comes along and it's bye-bye, barista? Typical.” I shake my head.

“Aw, come on, don't be mad.”

“I'll forgive you on one condition,” I say.

“What's that?”

“Can you and Simone come in tomorrow night? The Gabby Girlz are going to be here interviewing me and since you guys were my first match, maybe they'll want to talk to you.”

“Really? The Gabby Girlz? That's cool. Sure, I'll talk to Simone about it tonight.”

“Great. Here's your iced vanilla latte,” I say, passing him the drink. “See you tomorrow, hopefully.”

“See you,” he says, and heads out the door.

I swear I'm
going to fall over right here and die of nervousness,” I announce to the room. We are in the living room of my apartment doing last-minute beauty touches before leaving for the coffee shop. Everyone is coming to the Espressology night with me: Mom, Dad, Em (though she will be working), Katie, and Ava.

“Stop moving,” Em says, breathing hot garlicky air in my face. Never a mint around when a girl needs one, is there? She's busily plucking at a few of my stray eyebrow hairs that seem to have appeared from nowhere. We're all dressed up (even Em bought a new outfit to go under her blue apron) and ready to go, but Em keeps finding things to fix on me. “You have to look perfect. You are the star of the show.”

“Stop reminding me or I'll throw up on you right here and now, and you'll have to go home and change.”

“Well, we don't want you doing that, so I won't mention it again,” she says.

“Oh, honey,” my dad says. “You look beautiful. I feel like I should be taking a picture of you and your prom date.” He laughs.

“It does kind of feel like that,” I agree.

“You do look stunning, Jane. I'm going to take a picture—everyone squeeze together and say ‘Cappuccino!'” Mom says.

“Cappuccino!” we all yell.
Click.

“Are we ready to roll?” Em asks.

“I guess it is now or never,” I say, thinking
never
sounds fantastic about now. Dad heads out ahead of us to retrieve the car from the parking garage. We troop down to the street to wait for him to pull around. I'm clutching my bag with my notebook and laptop inside.

“Relax, Jane,” Mom says, rubbing my hand. “You can do it.” What a mom thing to say. How does she know that I can do it?

We pull up outside Wired Joe's and Dad lets us out. I suddenly feel like I should have rented a limo to bring me, since there is a long red carpet outside the store and it is sectioned off with red velvet ropes. There are, my god, what look like hundreds of people in line, watching me get out of the car. There is a big trailer parked right on the road, completely blocking traffic. It must be because of
The Gabby Girlz
. Suddenly there's a million flashes from cameras. It's like a fireworks
show in front of my face. What is this, paparazzi? Do
I
have paparazzi? I mean, no doubt there is a celebrity somewhere adopting a foreign baby that they should be taking pictures of, right?
I'm
not that interesting. But everywhere I look, people are taking pictures. People in line are holding up their cell phones in my direction and snapping shots. I stand there frozen with an undoubtedly stupid expression on my face, and I feel Em and Mom on either side of me lead me into the café.

The store is empty except for Derek, five baristas ready to work, and a lighting and camera crew setting up. No sign of the Gabby Girlz. Derek shut down the store for the last hour to set up for the show.

I look over at my beautiful desk. It's covered with candles and rose petals. It looks amazing. My sign is hanging off a gold nail on the wall behind my chair. There are candles and roses everywhere, and the smell of espresso is more intense than I ever remember it being before. It's like they're piping it in somehow. Derek steps up to me and helps me take off my jacket.

“You look fantastic, Jane,” he tells me.

“You look great yourself.” Derek is wearing a black suit with a deep red silk tie. I've never seen him this dressed up.

“Thanks,” he says, and immediately gets back to business. “Here is what's going to happen. You go on and set yourself up at your desk. Then the Gabby Girlz are going to come in and briefly meet you, and their crew will adjust their lighting.”

I nod, feeling my stomach tighten with nerves.

“They'll start out getting footage of you working with the customers for about half an hour to forty-five minutes. Then we'll take a break for them to conduct the interview with you.” I nod again, afraid if I do open my mouth something gross will come flying out of it. “They'll ask you just a few questions. Two, three minutes, tops. And then that's it. It'll be a snap. Relax.”

“A snap. Sure,” I mumble. I move to my desk to have a closer look at the setup. Suddenly there is a roar of noise from the sidewalk and the store is lit up from the flashbulbs going crazy outside the windows. “What's going on?”

“It's them! It's the Gabby Girlz!” Em squeals, looking out the window.

“They're coming in,” Mom says. My stomach flip-flops so hard that I fall back into my new red chair. The front door of the store flies open with a whoosh of cold air. The Gabby Girlz—Mackenzie Estrella, Hope Stewart, and Olivia Clark—stride in with an entourage of their people. Young girls, probably personal assistants, come in laden with big wardrobe bags, bottles of water, and BlackBerrys.

Derek rushes up to greet them. “Ladies, welcome. We are so happy to have you here at our store.” The women barely register that he's there.

Olivia, whom I always considered the nicest of the three on the show, steps out front and extends her hand to Derek. “Nice to meet you,” she says. “Cute place.” She glances
around the room, taking in the decor with a nod of appreciation.

“Thank you,” Derek says. “Can I introduce you to our Espressologist?” He turns in my direction. “Jane, come here,” he hisses.

I slowly pull myself out of the chair and walk toward the group. Holy lighting and makeup crew, these women are old! Wait a minute, isn't the whole premise of the show that they are a group of twentysomethings? They look that way on TV, but up close, well, these ladies have got to be well into their forties. Maybe even Mom's age. I feel duped. I seem to be the only one noticing, though, because the rest of the group is all buzzing with excitement.

“Ladies,” Derek says, “I'd like you to meet Jane.”

“Nice to meet you, Jane,” Hope says as she peers at me over her Hollywood sunglasses and holds out one limp hand while the other presses a pink cell phone to her ear. I take it and give her hand a squeeze. I always find it a little creepy when people wear sunglasses at night. I just don't get it. Hope nods and walks past me to a corner table to finish her conversation.

“Jane, we've read the briefing about what you're doing here,” Mackenzie says, grabbing my hand and shaking it firmly. “What a riot! Should make a good show.”

A riot?

Olivia grins and offers her hand. I take it and try to look
enthused. “Don't be nervous, sweetie. Has someone briefed you on what is going to happen?”

I nod.

“Good,” she says. “Then just get yourself situated and we'll get started.”

“Okay,” I mumble.

Em comes over, loops her arm through mine, and guides me back to my new desk and chair.

“Chill, Jane,” she encourages me. “Just don't even think about it. Pretend it is a regular night.”

“You're right. I can do this.” I sit and look through my notes for what seems like the hundredth time. A few moments later Derek announces that he's opening the door and I brace myself. Here we go.

The room quickly fills with people waiting to be matched, and some who are just here for support. Glinda is standing near Derek, looking proud to be with him. Gavin and Simone are here, arm in arm. Cam gives me a thumbs-up from behind a display of coffee mugs. And Will made it, too. He's about forty people back in line. I'm getting butterflies again. Tonight is the night I match Will, a five-shot espresso over ice, with me, a large iced nonfat mocha, no whip. Okay, okay, so it doesn't seem like a match right off, but I'm sure it will work. It has to.

I'm feeling better seeing some friendly faces. But then, ugh, Melissa. What is
she
doing here? She said she would never want me to match her. And so help me god, if she says anything nasty to me and it gets on camera . . .

Derek holds up his hands and speaks. “Welcome, everyone. I'm glad you all made it for our third Espressology night.” There are whoops and hollers from the crowd, and some people clap. “Thanks,” Derek continues. “As you know, tonight is very different, as
The Gabby Girlz
is here taping a segment.” The crowd cheers again, even louder this time, and Mackenzie, Hope, and Olivia turn and give the crowd a wave from where they are doing last-minute prep in the corner of the store. “We are going to get started now. Try to ignore the cameras as best as you can. Just step up to the counter, place your order with one of our baristas, and then give Jane your information.” The crowd cheers a third time when they hear my name. I can feel my cheeks redden a bit at all the attention.

I am poised at my desk with my fingers on my keyboard—ready to go. I can hear Hope talking to the camera at the other end of the store: “The Espressologist is in, at least at this local Chicago Wired Joe's.” I'm going to have to block her out if I'm going to do this.

A timid-looking guy in his early twenties places his order with Em and then steps up to my desk. He has dark hair and light brown skin. He's wearing a long-sleeve plaid shirt tucked into khakis.

“How are you doing tonight?” I ask, smiling. He nods at
me and hands me a piece of paper with all of his details on it. Wow, he's prepared.

I type his info into my spreadsheet: Naushad Raheem, male, twenty-one, gamer.

“Whoops,” I say, “I don't see the most important item. What's your favorite drink?”

Naushad smiles at me and shrugs. “I like small zebra mochas.”