“Chin up, little camper. It’ll be lunch time before you know it,” Libby said encouragingly.
Cassidy gave The Usurper until one o’clock—a whole hour past lunchtime—just to prove to herself that she wasn’t over-invested in this little game they were playing.
Because she was pretty sure that was what Libby thought: that Cassidy was over-invested. Cassidy didn’t really care if she was or not. She was having fun. It had been so long since she felt this silly, it was like being on drugs.
She was going to win this battle of wills. She was almost certain of it.
The coffee shop had been busy that morning when she arrived to set up her installation, but it was crazy busy now, with a double line snaking out the door. People actually stopped talking when she arrived, nudging each other. Then, just when she thought she was maybe imagining the attention, the people in the doorway shifted respectfully out of the way, granting her entrance.
They know who I am. This must be what it’s like to be famous.
She entered cautiously, braced for anything. She glanced around, but there was no ten-foot-high picture of Danny plastered to the roof, no flash mob ready to break into dance (an idea that had come to her at one in the morning and was still on her short list).
Disappointment hit her. Surely he hadn’t conceded?
Then she saw the T-shirts Ari and the rest of the staff were wearing and her faith in humanity—or at least the human urge to compete—was restored.
Printed in black on a white background, the T-shirts said “Cuppa Diem welcomes Danny, #1 Most Bestest Ever Customer in the History of Customers (and coffee).”
Ari waved her over. “This doesn’t mean we’re taking sides,” he said.
“Of course not. You want us to stay at each other’s throats for millennia.” Cassidy glanced at the queue.
“God willing,” Ari said. “The customers are loving it. I feel honor bound to draw your attention to the loyalty cards Danny also had printed up.”
Ari handed her a card. “Buy 10 coffees and give the next 10 to Danny,” it said.
“He has been busy,” she said, fingering the card. He’d shelled out for premium stock. Impressive. “But I can’t help wondering if he’s doubled down too quickly and left nothing in reserve.”
“That sounds vaguely threatening,” Ari said with a slightly worried frown.
“Thank you.”
Someone tapped on Cassidy’s shoulder then and she turned to find a young woman standing there.
“Excuse me. You’re her, right?” the woman asked, pointing at the six-foot-high projection of Cassidy’s face on the wall.
“I am. How can I help you?”
“Can I get a picture with you?”
“Why not?” Cassidy said after a brief, surprised pause.
She smiled dutifully while the picture was taken, then slipped outside. The fact that people wanted a selfie with her was only one degree madder than the game of brinkmanship she was playing with a man she’d never met.
She consulted her calendar on her phone as she walked back to the office. She had an appointment at four-thirty, but she could easily postpone it till tomorrow. And she was owed so many days-in-lieu, it shouldn’t be a problem to get the afternoon off. Nodding decisively, she made a quick phone call to confirm the appointment she’d made that morning, just in case.
Let’s see you beat that, Usurper, she thought as she ended the call.
She was sliding her phone back into her bag when it rang with an unknown number.
“Cassidy speaking.”
“Cassidy, hi. My name’s Julie, I work for The Daily Bulletin. I was wondering if you’d have time to talk about this little turf war you’ve been having at your local coffee shop?”
“Oh.” For a moment Cassidy didn’t know what to say. The paper wanted to speak to her? Maybe this really was getting a bit out of hand.
“It’s for the Metro section. We like to cover human interest stories, and I love how inventive you and Danny have been, one upping each other,” Julie said. “People seem to have really latched onto the story, and I’d like to give it a broader platform.”
Cassidy wasn’t sure how she felt about platforms, broad or otherwise.
“How long will it take? I’ve only got a minute or two.”
“That’s more than enough. What I was thinking was that I’d love to get you and Daniel together. See how this rivalry plays out in person.”
Cassidy could hear the hope in the other woman’s voice, but her response came from her primal gut. “I don’t want to meet him.”
“Really? You’re not curious about what he’s like in person? Not even a little bit?”
“What we’re doing now is perfect for me. I know everything about him that I need to know—he’s a loser.”
“Can I quote you on that?” Julie asked.
“If you want to.” Cassidy imagined Danny reading her provocative words. A little shiver ran down her spine.
“You’re pretty competitive, huh?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Cassidy said.
She could feel Julie gearing up for another round of questions.
“I really do have to go,” Cassidy said. “Do you have enough?”
“More than enough,” Julie said.
There was no point lying to himself—Daniel got a genuine buzz from walking into Cuppa Diem in the late afternoon to find the staff still wearing his T-shirts. Better yet, there was no sign of retaliation from his rival. He looked around, but he couldn’t see anything obvious, and when he caught the bearded barista’s eye the other man shook his head.
Daniel had finally stumped her. Huzzah.
Daniel gripped both hands together and raised them overhead in a victory salute.
“I don’t know, man. Cassidy’s pretty determined,” the bearded barista said. “Don’t go counting your chickens yet.”
“So her name’s Cassidy?” Daniel asked.
“Um. Maybe? It could be an alias,” the bearded barista said, but he was looking caught-out now. “Hard to tell. We get lots of wacky names on orders in here.”
“Sure. That seems likely.”
“What can I get you? On the house,” the barista offered quickly, clearly trying to deflect.
“You don’t need to do that. I’ll just have my usual,” Daniel said, pulling out his card to pay.
He moved aside to wait for his order and had just found a space against the wall when a woman planted herself in front of him.
“You’re Daniel, aren’t you?” she asked. “Julie, from The Daily Bulletin. I’m doing a story on your little turf war with Cassidy. I’d love to do a quick interview if you’ve got time…?”
“Sure, why not?” Daniel said. He reached up to straighten his tie and hoped he didn’t have spinach in his teeth.
“Do you mind if I record?”
“Go for it.”
“So how did all this kick off?”
“It was just a joke, between me and the staff and a friend…”
It took Daniel a couple of minutes to outline all the moves and counter moves. Julie listened attentively, laughing appreciatively a few times.
“I love how committed you both are to besting each other. Tell me, how would you feel about me setting up a meeting between you and Cassidy?”
Daniel was already shaking his head. “No,” he said. “It’s perfect the way it is.”
“Huh. Funny, that’s what she said.” Julie looked intrigued.
“You’ve spoken to her? What else did she say?” He immediately kicked himself for the sign of weakness, then reminded himself it wasn’t as though Cassidy was here to hear him being interested in her.
“She said she already knows everything she needs to know about you, which is that you’re a loser.”
His delighted laugh was so loud people turned to stare. “If you talk to her again, tell her she’s the loser, because there’s no way she can top this.”
His phone pinged with
a text as he finished speaking, then Julie’s phone pinged almost immediately afterward. They both automatically glanced at their screens. Daniel’s text was a message from Pete: !!!! Fuuuuuuck. Have you seen this?!!! Attached was an image from someone’s Instagram feed, a shot of a woman’s shoulder blade with an image of a Cuppa Diem coffee cup tattooed on it.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Julie said, and Daniel knew she’d been alerted to the same post.
“Is that real?” Daniel asked, blown away.
Julie peered at her phone screen. “It looks like it’s still bleeding.”
“Jesus.”
“This is hard core,” Julie said, not even trying to hide how impressed she was. “You’re going to have to really hustle to top this.”
Daniel stared at his phone. She was right. Cassidy had just cleared the table with her no-holds-barred move. He’d brainstormed a few other ideas to counter her next move, but they were all deeply pedestrian in comparison to this knock-out blow.
“I need to go,” he told Julie.
He was already calling Pete as he squeezed back onto the street. “Mate, emergency meeting, my place tonight. I need back up. And make sure Libby is there, I need her rat cunning.”
4
“I need something better than a tattoo. What’s better than a tattoo?” Daniel asked, pacing in front of his coffee table that evening.
Pete and Libby watched him from the couch.
“A tattoo is permanent. It shows real commitment,” Libby said.
“Also, it’s kind of insane,” Pete said. “Total power move.”
“Guys, this is not helping. I already know it was an inspired move. I need to beat it,” Daniel said.
“You could buy a billboard nearby, put your face on it,” Libby suggested.
“The tattoo is still better,” Pete said.
Libby punched him in the arm. “We’re spitballing. There’s no such thing as a bad idea.”
“Empirically, that’s not true,” Pete said.
“Maritally, I think you’ll find it is,” she said.
“Focus, people. All that energy you’re putting into squabbling could be going into strategizing,” Daniel reminded them both.
“You could hire a barber shop quartet, and they could sing about you in the store all day,” Pete said.
Libby rolled her eyes.
“I saw that,” Pete said.
Libby crossed her arms over her chest. “Daniel, I think you may have to face the unpalatable truth—the tattoo is unbeatable.”
Daniel stared at her. Then he sat on the arm of the couch. “Damn it, I don’t want to agree with you, but my mind is a complete blank. What kind of a person gets a tattoo just to win a stupid competition?”
He could hear the admiration in his own voice.
“Pete, can I see you in the kitchen, please? I need you to help me open the wine.” Libby stood, jerking her head to indicate her husband should follow her.
Daniel took the opportunity to clear away the pizza boxes from their dinner. If Walter were still around, he’d be begging for crusts, using his tractor-beam puppy eyes to guilt Daniel into doling out tidbits.
It had always pissed him off how weak he was in the face of his dog’s blatantly manipulative mind-control techniques, but now he’d give anything to experience Walter’s demanding Manson lamps again.
It was the first time he’d thought about Walter all evening, a new record, and he straightened his shoulders as he carried the pizza boxes into the kitchen.
“…what happens when they find out? They’re both going to think— Danny. Hey,” Libby said, eyes wide as she registered his presence in the doorway.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” Daniel said.
Pete kept his gaze on the floor, hands shoved into his pockets, while Libby flushed a deep pink.
“What’s going on? Why are you both looking so guilty?” Daniel asked.
“It’s nothing. A family thing. My mum’s being a pain again,” Pete said.
Daniel waited a moment longer to see if there was more forthcoming, but neither of them said a word.
“Okay. Keep your weird, married-persons’ secrets, then,” he said.
Reaching past Libby, he grabbed the wine bottle and twisted the screw cap off. Then he poured himself a large glass.
“I’m not ready to give up yet, guys. Liquor up, get inspired. We can do this,” he said.
The following morning, Cassidy didn’t even bother with the pretense of going to work before hitting Cuppa Diem. She wanted to see how Daniel had risen to her challenge.
Heart pounding, she pushed her way through the crowd and into the store. Just as she had yesterday, she scanned the café, braced for anything. The staff were back in their usual uniforms. There were no new certificates on the wall. Nothing seemed out of place.
But there had to be something. Daniel had had all night to formulate his next move.
Ari saw her, his face splitting into a grin. “There she is. Let’s hear it for Cassidy, everybody.”
Heads turned her way and camera flashes went off as the crowd broke into loud applause.
“Legendary, man.”
“Killer move.”
“You took him out, girlfriend.”
“Um, thanks,” Cassidy said, a little overwhelmed by all the attention.
Smile plastered in place, she squeezed her way to the counter to quiz Ari.
“Am I missing something?” she asked.
Ari shook his head. “Nope. I guess you stumped him.”
Cassidy frowned. She’d meant for the tattoo to be a decisive blow, but not THE decisive blow.
“What can I get you?” Ari asked.
“Latte, large. Thanks,” Cassidy said distractedly.
She moved to the pick-up area, smiling for no less than five selfies before her coffee was ready. On the street, she ducked her chin to her chest and kept her head down as she made her way to work. Libby was waiting in Cassidy’s office when she arrived, a copy of the morning paper in hand.
“Have you seen this? You and Daniel are famous,” Libby said, spreading the paper open across Cassidy’s desk.
Sure enough, a picture of Cassidy’s original certificate illustrated an article that took up nearly a quarter of the page. Daniel’s flyer was there, too, along with a screen shot of Cassidy’s tattoo. Seeing their battle laid out in black and white was surreal. What had started out as a small, silly game with a man she’d never met had turned into a viral phenomenon. Go figure.
“You didn’t tell me the newspaper called,” Libby said.
“They said they wanted to do a piece for their metro section or something like that.”
“You need to get an endorsement deal, pronto,” Libby joked. “Or at least a free coffee.”
“He hasn’t responded,” Cassidy said, unable to keep the news to herself a second longer.
“Then you’ve won. Congratulations,” Libby said with a big smile. “And well played. That tattoo took real commitment.”
Cassidy set down her coffee and shrugged out of her coat. “I don’t want to win.”
Libby blinked at her. “Yes, you do. You said you wanted to humiliate him.”
“Sure. Eventually. But I didn’t want it to end this quickly.”
Libby patted her arm. “You delivered a knock-out blow. Own it. Be proud of it.”
“Maybe I just need to give him more time. Maybe he’s planning something really elaborate.”
“Sweetie.” Now Libby actually looked sorry for her. “It’s over. You pounded him into submission.”
One of the assistants arrived with the morning mail then, handing a parcel to Cassidy.
“Oooh, a parcel. What did you buy?” Libby asked.
“I’m pretty sure it’s just Jon’s replacement shirt,” Cassidy said glumly.
Sure enough, when she slit the plastic pouch open, there it was, in all its over-priced glory.
“You are too decent for your own good,” Lib
by said.
She drifted back to her office then, leaving Cassidy to process her victory. She shuffled paper around and proof-read the draft pages of the monthly newsletter before admitting to herself that beating Daniel had taken all the color out of her day.
The pathetic truth was that sparring with him had been the most fun she’d had in ages.
And now it was over.
Three days later, Daniel took his place in the queue at Cuppa Diem and settled in to wait. Ever since the newspaper article the café had been overrun with customers. Between the attention he received every time he came here and the queues, it would have been easier to find somewhere else to buy his coffee, but he figured he’d been part of creating this situation. It seemed churlish to abandon ship now.
Also, he would look like a total dickwad if he disappeared after losing.
A couple of people recognized him. One took a picture of him without asking his permission, like he was a wax figure at Madame Tussauds. The other one threw half a dozen ideas at him, encouraging him not to take defeat lying down. When Daniel just laughed and shrugged and said it was impossible to trump the commitment of Cassidy’s tattoo, the guy called him a pussy and turned his back.
Truly, a great start to his day.
The bearded barista was all smiles by the time he made it to the counter, however.
“Danny. Check it out,” the barista said, directing Daniel’s attention to one of the servers, the one with the blonde hair.
She grinned and pointed to her T-shirt, where his goofy face smiled out at the world.
“That’s sweet, but you don’t need to keep wearing my T-shirts,” he said. He didn’t need a consolation prize. “I should get rid of all that stuff for you. You don’t need all my junk cluttering up the place.”
“You’re not getting this back, my friend. This thing is a collector’s item,” she said. “I shit you not, someone offered to buy it from me.”
“Hey, go for it,” Daniel said. “Make hay and all that.”
“No way. This T-shirt is a part of Cuppa Diem history now.”
Daniel ordered a coffee for himself and Pete, then went to wait. A couple of students were studying the certificates with a cynical air and he couldn’t help overhearing their conversation.
Must Love Coffee Page 3
