The Espressologist (6 page)

I type back, “Wrk in 15.”

Em responds, “4 real. 911.”

“Ok,” I type, and slide my phone back into my bag.

I run the three blocks from school to Wired Joe's to let Derek know I'm going to be late for work this afternoon. I tell him I have my period and no tampons so I need to go to the store and he makes an “ew, gross” face. The “just got my period” excuse works on every single male teacher at school—it's good to know it is just as effective in the real world. I leave Wired Joe's and run the six blocks to Em's. I ring her apartment and she buzzes me in. The door is unlocked and I know her mom is at work, so I head in and go straight to her bedroom.

“Must . . . start . . . working . . . out . . . again,” I huff and puff, bending over slightly and grabbing my sides. I take a moment to regain my breath and then finally look up at Em. She's lying in a lump on her bed and, oh crap, she's crying.

“What's wrong?” I ask, not entirely sure what to do. I've never seen Em cry before. In the seven years that we've been best friends I've cried plenty and she's always consoled me. Well, until now, that is. I sit down on the bed next to her. “Em, what's wrong?”

Em turns her head from her pillow to look at me. She's a puffy-faced mess. “Jason broke up with me,” she whispers.

“What?” I practically scream at her. I can't believe it. Jason and Em have always been so solid. They are the dream couple. “Why on earth would he break up with you?”

Em's face crumples and she drops her head into her pillow again. Her shoulders rise and fall with her crying. I wait for her to stop. She turns her head and looks at me. “He said it isn't working anymore. He said we're too different,” she chokes out.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

Em grabs a handful of Kleenex from the box on the desk near her bed. “He thinks I'm too involved with school,” she tells me.

“What does he expect? You are taking really hard classes this semester. He should know that you have a lot of work.” Em nods her head in agreement. “Not to mention . . . you're going to college next year and then law school. He should get used to all the schoolwork now.”

“That's just it,” she says. “The prelaw thing. He thinks I'll be too busy with school and study groups to spend any time with him, so we should just end it now.”

“Maybe it's not such a bad thing to break up,” I say, crossing my arms. “If he can't hack it now while you are in high school, he sure won't be able to when you are in college.”

Em's face crumples up again and she buries it in her pillow. Shoot. Wrong thing to say. I knew I was no good at this consoling business.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I say. “What can I do to help? Do you want me to try to talk to him?” We all hung out quite a bit last year, so I feel pretty comfortable approaching him about this. We haven't hung out much since the school year started, though. Jason was a year ahead of Em and me and is out of school now. He didn't go to college. He went right to work for his uncle in his construction business and has been pretty busy himself.

“No!” Em screams, sitting straight up. “I didn't tell you the worst part.”

Uh-oh. There's more?

“Oh god . . . I'm so embarrassed.” She covers her face with her hands.

“It's okay, Em, you know you can tell me anything.”

“He's . . . dating someone else. She's . . . a . . . townie,” she says.

“A what?” I ask.

“You know, a townie. His uncle lives in a really small suburb
of the city. Jason has been spending all his time out there since he started working for him.” Em sighs and takes a deep breath. “She's like the town hussy or something. She practically lives at the one little local bar in town. She's twenty-four and she works at the SuperMart full-time.”

“Dare to dream,” I say.

“It gets worse,” Em continues. “He met her bowling.” Despite Em's distress. I can't help but grin, putting the whole picture of this girl together. “She's on his league.”

“Jason is on a bowling league?!” I practically scream. “What's up with that?” I ask, laughing now. “Do they have team shirts and everything?”

“God, I don't know. And stop laughing—this isn't funny! He's been acting strange ever since he graduated,” she says.

“Sounds like it.” I mean, seriously, a bowling league? I shudder.

“What am I going to do?” Em whimpers.

“Do you really want my opinion?”

She nods.

“Let him go.”

“But we've been together for almost three years!” she protests.

“I know. I'm not saying it will be easy or anything, but he cheated on you, Em. Or I should say he IS cheating on you. And, not that I want to agree with a cheating jerk, but it does sound like you guys are headed in different directions.”

Her bottom lip quivers a bit. “I know.”

“I'm sorry, Em,” I say. “Here, let me call Derek and let him know I can't make it to work after all. I'll tell him I have killer cramps or something. We can hang out tonight.”

“Okay. Thanks, Jane,” she says, wiping her eyes with the Kleenex.

How are you
doing today, Em?” I ask in the break room of Wired Joe's. I just finished my shift, and Em is coming on to work the afternoon-till-close shift. It has been strangely slow for a Sunday.

“I don't know. All right, I guess,” she replies in a melancholy voice.

I fold up my blue apron and shove it in my bag as she slips hers on and ties it behind her back.

“I know it doesn't seem like it, but things really will get better,” I assure her, looking in the mirror on the wall to adjust the thick plaid tweed headband in my hair and smooth down my white collared shirt. I wish I'd brought a change of clothes for my meeting with Cam today.

“Yeah, I know. You keep saying that. I'm still waiting for it to happen.”

“Well, it won't happen immediately,” I say, even though I have no experience in this department, since I've never really had a long-term boyfriend. “What's going on? You sounded better on the phone yesterday morning. I knew you should have come out with Katie, Ava, and me last night. Next time I'm going to drag your butt out so you don't have time to sit around and mope.”

“I didn't sit around and mope the whole time,” she says. “I saw him.”

“You saw Jason?” I spin around to look at her. “Oh, my god, Em, why? Please tell me you didn't do the desperate girl thing and beg for him to take you back.” Darn it. I should have kept her company last night. I can be such a sucky friend sometimes.

“No . . . no! Of course not. I'm depressed but not stupid,” Em says. “I ran out to Chipotle for a burrito last night and he was there. He looked amazing. He was wearing that big super-soft comfy navy blue sweater that I gave him last Christmas. For just the briefest of moments I wanted to rush up to him and throw my arms around him. But then I noticed he was with
her
. I lost my appetite instantly, so I turned around and went home.”

“Oh geez, Em, that's rough. Did he see you?”

“No, I don't think so.” We're both silent for a moment.

“What did she look like?” I finally ask.

A slight smile spreads across Em's face.

“Totally lame,” she admits.

“Tell me, tell me. I want details.”

“Well, for starters she was wearing acid-washed stretch jeans.”

“No!” I practically scream, covering my mouth with my hand.

“Yeah, I didn't even know they still made those,” she says.

“Maybe she bought them on eBay?” I offer. “You can buy all kinds of crap there.”

“Maybe,” she echoes. “She also had on a pink-and-green tie-dyed shirt, big pink hoop earrings, and, get this, construction boots.”

“Oh, for the love of Brenda Walsh, are you kidding me?” I squeal. “He HAS to have lost his mind. That is so nineties I want to puke.”

“I know,” Em adds with a little laugh. “I bet the construction boots turn Jason on. Not that I want to picture someone else turning him on.” She abruptly stops laughing.

“I can understand that,” I say. “Last question, and then we won't talk about her anymore. Promise.”

“Okay.”

“Hair?”

“Bad perm,” Em answers.

“I knew it!” I say, clapping my hands together. I pick up my bag and turn toward the door to leave. “Em”—I turn back around to face her—“maybe you
should
think about letting me set you up with someone. I know we were kidding
about it in your room the other night, but it might be good for you. You know, just to get back out in the world and all.”

“Huh? No.” She makes a face.

“Oh, come on,” I urge. “Just one date. And only if the coffee beans speak to me.”

“I don't know . . .”

“Okay, promise me you'll think about it. I'm going to grab a drink and get out there for my meeting with Cam. Have a good shift. And don't worry. It really will get better.”

“I hope so,” she says, and follows me to the front of the store.

Cam is sitting in one of the two big blue velvet comfy chairs in the front corner of the store. The blue-and-white neon sign of the Wired Joe's logo is hanging behind his head and he's listening to something on his iPod. I plop down in the chair opposite him.

“Hey, Cam.”

“Hey, Jane.” He turns off his iPod and pulls out the ear-buds. “How's it going?”

“Really good.” I set my iced mocha down on the small table between us. I notice that he already has a drink. “I would have made you something for free,” I say.

“That's okay,” he says. He picks up his drink and takes a swig.

“What did you get, anyway?” I ask, curious to see what his drink is. I'm having a hard time pegging this one.

“Toffee nut latte,” he says.

“Toffee nut latte?” I repeat, almost accusingly. It's been a while since I've come across a toffee nut latte. I close my eyes and try to mentally picture the entry in my notebook.

Toffee Nut Latte

Definitely not what you expect. Very hot . . . very sexy . . .

My eyes spring open and I can feel myself blushing fiercely. Is that what the entry really says? I wonder if I can casually peek into my notebook . . .

“Yeah, what's wrong with that?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. I just didn't see it coming,” I say, still feeling flush.

“You are kind of weird sometimes, Jane.”

“So true,” I agree.

We start working on our project, and I find that I'm having a really good time with Cam. He is SO funny. He's telling me all kinds of stories about growing up and the kids he played with on his block. Like this one time, he and his friend Vinnie walked up and down the sidewalks yelling, “Lassie! Come home!” People would stop and ask them what was wrong and they would say that they lost their collie Lassie (as in the TV dog Lassie) and people were actually helping them look. It was all good and funny until Cam's mom went to the
school PTO meeting and the president asked her if they'd found their dog. Which, of course, was nonexistent. She was totally embarrassed and Cam got in mega trouble.

Em is at the espresso machines making the drinks while Wendy, one of our older baristas, is working the register. I can see Em occasionally watching us and I give her a smile.

“Who are you smiling at?”

“Oh, that's my best friend, Em,” I answer. “She's awesome.”

“That is really cool that you guys get to work together.”

“Yeah, it totally is,” I agree.

The front door of the store opens and I feel a knot forming in my stomach. Melissa walks in, sans sidekick Ginny this time. A look of repulsion must have come over my face because Cam says, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I just suddenly don't feel so well.”