by HJ Welch
However, there were days like this where he felt like he’d rather be broke and living on the street than have to deal with a single customer again in his whole life.
“Yeah, I know!” chattered the young woman on her cell at the front of the queue. She wore a frilly blouse that, were Elion interested in such a sight, offered a great view of her firm breasts. “No!”
Being a Friday afternoon the place was pretty packed. She didn’t seem to notice the tuts and eye rolls she was already getting.
“Can I help you, Ma’am?” Elion prompted her.
She held a finger up to him and flipped her wavy hair over her shoulder. “Uh huh,” she said, nodding. “Uh huh. Yeah, that’s what I said.”
Elion sighed and looked around at the rest of the patrons. His colleague Devon was already serving the next guy in line, so all Elion could do was wait until this chick deigned to give him her order.
The lighting was dim on purpose to make the place seem cozy, even during the day. Naked brickwork walls and lightbulbs hanging above the counter gave it an industrial sort of feel. The bunting and mounted vintage bicycle on the wall meant the atmosphere leaned more towards hipster. All their menus were written by hand on chalkboards.
One of the owners, Lily, picked wildflowers herself every day. It was one of her favorite chores of a morning to arrange them in glass milk bottles to display on the counter and the dozen round, wooden tables.
Almost all the squishy armchairs around those tables were occupied, and the queue was getting longer. A tickling bell signaled to Elion than more patrons had just arrived.
“Ma’am?”
“Yeah, hang on babe,” said the woman into the phone. She placed her hand over the receiver. “Sorry sweetie, I’ll just take a Unicorn Frap.” She took her hand away again and began twirling her hair. “So, like I said, he totally didn’t care-”
Elion sighed and looked over at Devon. She gave him a sympathetic shrug and started serving a guy in cycling gear. Elion purposefully didn’t make eye contact with anyone else in the line, especially as the next couple seemed to be having an in depth conversation. Although they weren’t happy about something, they looked to be the only ones not pissed at him.
“Ma’am,” Elion said again. He plastered his best shit-for-brains grin on. “They only serve those at Starbucks.”
She raised her perfectly painted on eyebrow at him. “Huh?”
“It’s trademarked,” he said cheerfully. He folded his hands onto the counter in front of him, still grinning. “If I made you one, they’d sue the fuck out of us faster than you could drink it. How about you try ordering something else?”
The girl frowned into the phone, then looked back over at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. If there’s no unicorns, I’ll take a popcorn instead.”
Elion hopped to the side and pointed helpfully up at the drinks menu. “No Frappuccinos. They are aaaalll very trademarked. By Starbucks. Which is two blocks over.”
She blinked and looked around her, as if only noticing where she was in that moment. “Oh,” she said sulkily. “Okay, well, there’s no need to get rude about it.”
Using all his will power, Elion clung on to his smile, despite his gritted teeth. “You have a great day now!” he called after her, giving a single wave over his head.
“Lily will kill you if she catches you cussing at patrons,” said Devon. She raised a pierced eyebrow at him. “Again.”
Elion blew a raspberry at her. “Like Ms OMG heard me through that fog of cheap hairspray. Anyway, who’s next!”
The couple were still talking intently. The girl – and she was a girl – probably first year of college or still at high school – was tall and athletic looking. Her Perryville High Panthers t-shirt confirmed as much. The guy was older and oh boy was Elion pleased to get an extra second while they talked to drink him in.
Young Captain America brightened up the room with his golden hair, swept neatly to the side and falling just above his ears. His broad shoulders looked to hold a great weight, his woes emphasized by the frown on his pretty face. He had his big hands shoved in his designer jeans. He was nodding at something the girl was saying.
Their body language as they moved around the other guy’s bike to Elion’s side of the counter didn’t say romantic couple. The angles of their torsos were all wrong. His heart picked up. Could this Abercrombie model potentially be single?
Whether he was interested in guys was purely optional and not something Elion needed to concern himself with to have a flight of fancy. He was the most gorgeous specimen to saunter into this joint in a long time. Elion was suddenly grateful to Unicorn Lady for holding up the line meaning he could be the one to serve him.
“It’s just so un-fucking-believable,” hissed Blondie. “She’s lost her mind!”
Panthers Girl sighed with real sympathy. “But this way you at least get to dance.”
“It’s – it’s a farce! I don’t want to be some fake reality housewife…whatever!”
He looked so troubled it tugged on Elion’s heart. Someone that gorgeous didn’t deserve to be that unhappy. He decided these guys could maybe get free cookies, if he was stealthy enough. He dug out his most sincere smile.
“Good afternoon, how can I-oh holy fuck!” He slapped his hand over his mouth, clunking a ring against his teeth. “Sorry, but – Blake, is that you?”
The guy turned from the girl to fully face him. “Um?”
Shit, he looked uncomfortable. “Sorry, sorry,” said Elion, waving his hands apologetically. “But you’re Blake Jackson, right?” He pointed at himself. “Elion Rodriguez. You probably don’t remember, but we took Miss Dixon’s English Lit together for like three years running. And Biology with that dude with the yellow fingernails.”
Realization dawned on Blake’s face. Elion exhaled in relief. “Mr. Pritchard,” he said.
“That’s the one,” said Elion excitedly. He clicked his fingers. “Wow, how you been? Seriously, it must be what? Five years?”
Blake nodded. “About that,” he said. He reached over and offered Elion his hand, so he leaned over the counter and shook it. “It’s good to see you.”
His eyes quickly raked over the pink tips of Elion’s black hair and the tattoo on his wrist. Sure, he was on the skinny side compared to Blake, but he knew he looked okay. If you didn’t mind a more alternative style. Which a lot of folks around here did.
Blake smiled though. “You too. You working here?”
“Yeah,” said Elion, spreading his hands out as if to say ‘this is me!’
“Allegedly,” Devon coughed into her hand.
Elion gave her the finger. “Right, Blake. What can I get you? And…” He looked expectantly at the girl.
“Jodi,” she said. She jabbed her hand towards him for a shake of her own. “Blake’s sister. So, you guys went to high school together?”
“The boy needs a drinks order,” an older lady griped from behind them. “Then you can flirt.”
“I can do both, Ma’am,” Elion assured her with a salute.
For all his bravado though, he glanced nervously at Blake and his sister. He hadn’t forgotten how loaded the Jacksons were, and here he was, slumming it at a lowly coffee shop.
“We’ll take two cappuccinos,” said Blake, fishing out a leather wallet.
Elion spun and got the milk foaming. “So, like, how’s that popstar thing going?” he asked casually over his shoulder. Like everyone knew someone who’d gone on release several top forty hits. “Guess that ‘Most Likely to be Famous’ award worked out pretty accurately, huh?”
He turned back around to get the espresso machine going. But Blake’s face had fallen and his jaw was tight. Jodi sighed and placed a hand on her brother’s firm bicep under the tight t-shirt he wore.
Shame washed over Elion like a cold bucket of water. He’d one hundred percent fucked up.
“Sorry,” he blurted. He grabbed two cups and saucers so he could occupy his attention els
ewhere. “You probably get people bugging you about that all the time. I’m just happy to see you.”
Like that wasn’t sycophantic. Blake didn’t know who he was. He had no idea of all the hours Elion had spent staring dreamily at the back of his head in Trig. He was a million years out of his league, and straight as an arrow to boot. He needed to get a hold of himself.
Blake, though, handed over the cash for the coffees with a small but seemingly genuine smile. “It’s not that,” he said. “The band sort of broke up.”
“Below Zero broke up?” a young woman from down the line blurted out.
Elion, Blake and Jodi turned to see most of the coffee house were looking at them. Had they all been listening in?
Blake shifted his shoulders and cracked a smile. The tension from before all but vanished. “Yeah. We’re sad to let our fans down, but there were creative differences and we felt it best to part ways while we’re all still friends.”
That was the most rehearsed PR bullshit Elion had ever heard spoken in real life.
Jodi scowled and stepped protectively closer to her brother as people crowded around him, answering more questions and signing autographs.
“Are you still recording?”
“Does that mean you’ve moved back?”
“Oh honey, I’m so sorry!”
Jodi nudged the cups back towards Elion. “Can we get these to go?” she asked under her breath.
Elion didn’t need telling twice.
“I didn’t mean to throw him to the wolves like that.” He hastily poured the hot liquid into two cardboard cups.
Jodi shook her head at him though, swishing her long ponytail from side to side. “He’s just having a bad day.”
“Still,” said Elion, handing their drinks back to her. “Tell him I’m sorry.” Then, because it was hard to make his mouth listen to his brain at the best of times… “If he comes back in, his next cappuccino’s on me. And yours.”
The serious expression she had worn until now lifted. “Thank you,” she said and touched the back of his hand. It wasn’t flirtatious at all, but warm. “I’m sure we will.”
The Jacksons made their polite, but swift, exit not long after that. Elion was impressed that even though Jodi was younger, she was the one to steer them towards the door without offending a single patron.
Elion hadn’t noticed Devon sidling up to his side. Everyone was too busy ogling the local celeb to focus on ordering coffees or muffins in that moment. She bumped her shoulder against his and smirked.
“So that was fun.”
“That wasn’t fun,” said Elion. His voice didn’t squeak, definitely not. “That was…like one of those dreams where you show up naked to an exam.”
Devon licked her lips and smacked her hand firmly against his ass. “No one was naked here hun. Let’s hope you get luckier next time.”
He spluttered, but she’d already moved back to the counter to serve the first person that had grown bored of the drama.
Elion tended to the next few patrons in a daze. Of all the people that could have walked through the door that day, he would never have expected Blake Jackson to be one of them.
He was pretty sure he’d done okay. He replayed the conversation over and over again in his mind. As far as he could tell, he’d not humiliated himself, even though he felt bad for drawing the attention of the crowd.
The chances of Blake coming back in were probably slim. Even if the band were no more, an Adonis like that was meant for bigger things than Perryville, Ohio. He still amused himself daydreaming about flirting the next time, giving Blake that free coffee.
Which reminded him, he’d already earmarked two cookies to give away. Seeing as they were wrapped now, it didn’t seem right to put them back on the counter. So he gave them to an exhausted young mom with one kid wailing in a stroller and the other straining against his leash. The tearful thanks the mom gave him lifted his spirits further.
Even if Blake was only in town for a week, this was the best coffee place in town that wasn’t a bland mega-chain. He was bound to come back.
Elion spent the rest of his shift singing along, poorly, with the radio, dodging the coffee beans Devon regularly threw his way, and smiling at every single customer he served.
4
Blake
Ultimately, it had been better to do what Jodi said and go with the flow. Once Blake accepted that the TV show was happening, he could try and simply ignore the film crew and focus on what mattered.
His mom had named the school the ever-so-subtle Blake Jackson Academy, and the show the very-questionable Feet of Flames. Blake really wasn’t convinced about either. It wasn’t worth arguing though, so he’d thrown himself into preparing for the open auditions. Those had taken place that morning.
He’d been delighted at the turnout. It probably hadn’t hurt that his face had been on the flyers his mom’s friends had put into the entire town’s mailboxes. So they’d had all sorts swarm through the doors of the new dance studio, the smell of fresh paint still lingering in the air.
Tiny toddlers who were more excited by their sparkly tutus than learning how to plie. Tweens anxiously checking to see what everyone else was doing before joining in. Fans from out of state with two left feet more interested in taking photos of him than any choreography. They did, however, have several genuinely talented kids and young adults that set Blake’s imagination alight with possibilities. And then there were those who weren’t in any way gifted, but had tried so hard Blake could practically see their determination radiating off them.
The Plan – with a big P – was to shoot twelve episodes and release them via YouTube. The episode length would, apparently, depend on what storylines they came up with.
“Sorry,” said Blake. He shook his head in confusion. “Don’t you mean the storylines that develop?”
They were back around the marble island in the kitchen. Dozens and dozens of applications attached to headshots littered the surface in front of them.
Seth didn’t pause from shuffling the papers around. “No, we need to control the story from the get-go. Make sure the finale works. What about her?”
Blake’s mom wrinkled her nose. “How many Asians do we have already?”
“In total? Three.”
She plucked the application from his hand. “I don’t see her in the star pile, but she was good for background.”
Blake scowled at the both of them. “The only thing that should matter is their ability,” he said.
His mom laughed. Seth didn’t even acknowledge him. “Honey,” said his mom. She tapped his hand and indicated the messy pile they were dealing with. “Why don’t you fish out your ten absolute favorites? Then we’ll try and get a good mix of them between the classes.”
“What about her?” Seth asked.
He happened to pick out one of the ones that Blake was trying to find. “Yes, Karyn!” he said, pleased something was finally going his way. “She’s incredible.”
“She’s a brat.”
He turned and regarded the fourth person sat around the table.
Nessa Prince was the other teacher his mom (and presumably the production team) had found to take some of the classes. They had a range from babies to high school age and Blake couldn’t teach them all, let alone choreograph every routine. But that was obviously not the only reason Nessa had been hired.
She was almost as tall as Blake with light brown skin that practically glowed with healthy nourishment. There was enough of it on display to make a fair assessment. Clad solely in bright, patterned leggings and a sports bra over her ample boobs, her long, lean stomach proved how much time she spent at the gym. From the mane of dark brown hair she’d casually thrown up in a half ponytail Blake would have bet money on there being extensions hidden away in there. Her teeth were perfectly straight and white, the kind of smile you saw on most people in L.A.
He’d seen her move too. Without a doubt she knew what she was doing. But her vitriol against the young Ka
ryn surprised him.
“She was easily one of the best we saw today,” he countered carefully.
He almost didn’t notice when the camera operators repositioned themselves to angle at the two of them. Kala, the producer with the ear gauges, was watching him from behind the cameras. He refused to get into an argument, but he guessed that was what they probably wanted.
Nessa shook her head. “I didn’t say she wasn’t,” she agreed. “But she has an attitude problem. I don’t know if that’s what the school needs.”
Blake tried to recall what he’d seen of her away from the floor. All he could recall though were her perfect fouette turns and excellent posture. “I’m sure she was just nervous.”
Nessa arched her eyebrow. “She’s going to walk all over you with an attitude like that.”
Blake sat back on the stool. What the hell had gotten into her? “You know what?” he snapped, slapping Karyn’s application paper on the table. “This is my school. She’s the best, and I say she’s in.”
There was a beat. Then his mom and Nessa and relaxed, smiled, and his mom even gave him a quick clap. Seth flicked an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t react.
“That was great, guys,” said Kala approvingly, nodding at the cameras.
Blake’s mom squeezed his knee. “You’re getting it, hon!”
He looked around at them, then fixed on Nessa. “You were messing with me?”
“I was bringing the drama.” She grinned and handed him back Karyn’s application. “Of course we should take her. But,” she arched an eyebrow at him, “I did mean it. She is going to be a handful.”
“That’s the point,” drawled Seth. His eyes flicked between two more resumes.
“Right,” said Blake slowly.
He really wasn’t getting the hang of this play-acting bullshit. This was obviously another reason Nessa had been hired. She seemed to have the hang of it right away.
His eyes flicked discreetly over to her again. She was obviously gorgeous; any idiot could see that. But for some reason Blake didn’t feel any flicker of attraction towards her. If the guys were here with him, he was sure that TJ would have been putting the moves on her by now. That boy used sex like a handshake.
