by Paul, JL
On the Outside Looking In
JL Paul
Copyright © 2013 JL Paul
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All characters in this book are entirely imaginary and any resemblance to persons living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Life is funny sometimes, and not always in the ha-ha way, either. For instance, say you had your whole future mapped out and were well on your way, but then, your road of life takes a slight swerve. That swerve might not have been a bad thing – maybe it took you around something negative or led you to some new friends. Then, you follow this road, your future slightly different than what you’d intended, but still going well. All of a sudden, another swerve appears, this one steeper, leading you away from that happy, well-paved road. Now, the path is bumpy and full of potholes, shaking you up and making you second guess your decisions. You search in vain for an exit or at least another street to no avail. Just when you’re ready to give up and pull over, the road begins to smooth and you think that you can see options in the distance…
As a blender whirred near my head, I poured a toffee brown concoction in a cup, adding a plastic lid, before turning, with a smile, and handing it to my customer.
“Did you use fat free milk?” the customer asked, narrowing her eyes. Her flawless skin seemed to glow under the fluorescent lights, her makeup neat and accenting her features.
“Yes,” I said, keeping my smile pasted to my face.
Rolling her eyes, the young woman ripped off the lid, sniffed the coffee, and then took a sip.
“Shit! This is hot!” she exclaimed, as she set the cup on the counter so hard, some of the contents spilled onto the counter.
Counting to ten in my head, I grabbed a rag and wiped up the mess. “Yes, well it is coffee.”
“Don’t get lippy with me,” she said, flapping her hands as if trying to dry her nails. Silver rings, some with bright jewels, sparkled as they caught the light. The gold bangles on her wrists jangled as she continued shaking her hands. “I am the customer.”
I didn’t respond, was trained not to in situations like this, and glanced over her head at the line of people behind her.
“Just give me a new lid,” she demanded, tapping a manicured nail on the counter. I quickly did as she asked, relieved when she snatched her cup and stormed down the aisle and out the door.
“Can I help you?” I asked the couple stepping up to the counter.
“You okay, honey?” the girl asked, snapping her gum.
Honey? She was maybe a year or two older than me at the most yet she was calling me honey as if I was a lost child and she was an elderly woman in the park.
“Yes,” I said with another false smile. “What can I get you?”
Releasing a breath, she studied the menu, her companion eyeing me. They were quite the couple, attractive even though the girl wore heavy eye makeup and a tight, leather top of some kind zipped just low enough to reveal an eyeful of cleavage.
“What do you want?” she asked her companion.
“Coffee,” he said, eyes never leaving my face. The dark, messy hair and smoky eyes were a bit unnerving, as well as the leather jacket and the gold hoops in his ears. The stubble on his cheeks and chin didn’t take away from his good looks – if anything, it enhanced them.
“Would you like anything in it?” I asked.
He shook his head, a smirk curling one side of his mouth. “What do you want, Manda?”
“I want one of those pumpkin cappuccino things,” she said. “Is that the special for the month or something?”
I punched their order into the register, glancing over my shoulder to see Dante get to work on the drinks, before turning back with their total. “Yes, it is a special flavor.”
“It should be offered year round,” Manda said. “I like it.”
Her companion draped an arm over her shoulders, placing a kiss near her ear. “They probably only offer it in October and November – you know, the fall months.”
“What a shame,” she said.
“So,” he said, looking at me again as he paid. “I bet you get a lot of assholes like that chick in front of us, huh?”
“We get a few,” I said, a smile escaping as I played down the incident. It was true, though, that we did get a lot of rude people – far more than I’d ever had at the bookstore.
“Here you go,” Dante said, placing their order on the counter.
“Thanks, Dante,” I said as I turned back to my customers. “You two have a good day.”
The guy lifted his coffee, tipping it my way as if in a toast, and then pivoted on his heel, leading Manda out the door.
The morning droned on with busy people rushing in for their caffeine fixes, and I did my best to keep up. Most mornings were like this and it made me sorely miss the quiet atmosphere of the bookstore.
Sighing, I took advantage of the late morning lull to wipe down the counter, reminiscing about the bookstore.
Mrs. Philbert, the ancient owner of the building, decided last year to retire. She sold the building to the Welsons, a couple who assured me that I could continue to lease the apartment upstairs. They even offered me a job helping to convert the old bookstore into a coffee shop/internet café, after a great recommendation from Mrs. Philbert. It was hard work but I enjoyed it. It had taken my mind off of the train wreck that had become my life. And once the shop opened, I took almost as much pride as the Welsons.
But the new job at the shop was taxing. It took a lot of training to learn how to work the machines and make specialty coffees. Luckily, Dante worked most mornings with me and was a whiz at the coffee-making. As long as I kept up with the register, he made the drinks. I only had to pitch in when things got crazy.
“What time do you have class?” Dante asked as he helped himself to a plain coffee.
“Nothing today,” I said. “My lecture and lab were both canceled.”
“Lucky you,” Dante said. “I have a Bio lab this afternoon. That lab is killing me! I can’t wait until I get all this required bullshit over and I can take some fluff classes.”
Laughing, I poured hot water into a cup, adding a teabag. “Fluff classes. I’d think that you’d want to avoid the fluff classes and just take the stuff that you need.”
Dante shrugged. “Well, I do have to take some electives and I’d like to find something easy, like Bowling or Ceramics.”
My laughter increased. “Ceramics. If you take that class, will you make me a vase?”
“A vase,” he snorted as he squeezed my shoulder before turning back to the machines. “I’ll see what I can do.”
When I finished my shift, I hurried upstairs to collect my books and then headed to the library. I had a rather difficult Art History exam coming up and I wanted to do a little extra reading to prepare.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I walked the five blocks to campus, nodding or greeting people along the way. Being that it was a small school, it wasn’t difficult to run into someone that you knew or from one of your classes. Unfortunately the people that I ran into were just that – people that I knew from class or campus and not real friends.
Pushing open the library doors, I shoved all thoughts of Irelyn and Bailey from my mind. I’d made my apologies to them and to Spe
ncer – all the drama was over.
Locating a table, I dropped my bag and began searching for books.
But Irelyn and Bailey wouldn’t leave my mind. Neither would Spencer.
I’d come to terms with everything that had happened over the summer. I’d realized that I’d acted quite immature and had even apologized. Yes, it was true that my feelings had been hurt and I still, somewhat believed that I had been wronged. I hadn’t been in love with Collin when Bailey slept with him, but she’d thought that I was. And slept with him anyway. It hurt that she’d had no regards for my feelings.
But I was over it. I really was. I just needed to tell my heart that.
I roamed the aisles, scanning titles, until I found two books that caught my interest. Taking them back to my table, I settled down and opened the first one. I was about halfway through the first chapter when someone sat at my table, startling me from my reading.
“What’s up, Morg?”
“Hey, Bailey,” I said with a smile. “What are you doing here?”
Lifting a shoulder, she hoisted her bag onto the table. “The guys are practicing at my house and I needed to get a little coursework done.”
“Oh,” I said. “Um, how are your classes this term?”
“Not bad,” she said. “Some of these accounting classes are tough but I get through them.”
“That’s good,” I said. I felt like a moron, sitting in the library struggling to make small talk to someone that was supposed to be one of my best friends.
“So, you coming to Rusty’s Friday?” Bailey asked as she opened her laptop. “The guys are playing. They have some guy coming to listen to them – some indie label or something.”
I paused, lifting my eyes from my book. “That’s exciting but I don’t know if I can make it. I have an exam on Monday and I really need to study.”
Bailey’s lips curled on the ends, her eyes dancing in the bright light. “I’m sure you know that stuff like the back of your hand. You can spare a few hours to hang out with your friends and lend a little support.”
I couldn’t help but to smile. Bailey always had a way of putting things into perspective.
“I suppose I could stop by,” I said. “At least for one set.”
“Great,” Bailey said. “Irelyn will be happy.”
***
Scanning my closet, I contemplated my choices. I wasn’t much of a shopper and didn’t have a real handle on the current fashion – just usually wore what my mother sent me. She loved that sort of thing. Lately she’d been sending stylish fall skirts, cashmere sweaters, skinny jeans, and boots. I chose a pair of jeans, an off white sweater, and a pair of knee high leather boots.
After a quick shower, I dried my hair, fussing with the unruly waves that had irritated me my entire life. Deciding against taking the time to straighten it, I rubbed product in it and then fluffed, holding it out of my face with a thick headband. After applying the barest of makeup, I grabbed my purse and jacket and ran out the door.
The parking lot was full, as I’d expected, but I managed to find a spot. My hands didn’t start to tremble until I reached the metal steps that led to Spencer’s apartment. I wouldn’t allow my eyes to glance that way – just kept my focus on the dirty glass doors for the bar.
The band hadn’t started but the noise level was still loud. It hit my ears as soon as I stepped inside. A heavy curtain of smoke hovered in the air, overloading the smoke-eaters that had been installed during my absence.
Nothing much had changed much since the last time I’d been there. The lighting still sucked, the tables were crowded together, and the stage was exactly as I remembered.
Taking a deep breath of stale, smoky air, I pushed my way through the crowd until I reached the table near the stage. Irelyn and Bailey sat next to each other, their heads close together as they conversed through all the noise.
Pasting a smile on my face, I shook my hair back, lifted my chin, and yanked out a chair.
“Hi,” I said as if nothing had happened and our friendship hadn’t suffered a huge hit.
“Morgan!” Irelyn squealed as she tossed her arms around my neck and gave me a hug. “I’m so glad you came! The guys will be excited!”
I continued to smile as Irelyn released me and I removed my jacket, draping it over the back of my chair. “I can’t wait to hear them. Are they doing any original music tonight?”
“Just a few songs,” Bailey shouted over the din. She lifted her drink to her lips, her eyes shooting to the stage. “You know how this crowd is, they like the cover songs.”
“Well, the band has been playing here for a long time,” I said, trying to put a positive spin on things. That was what I always did – Morgan the Moral Uplifter. “The crowd loves them and should give them a chance to play something of their own.”
“You’d think,” Bailey said. “We’ll just have to see what happens.”
I glanced over my shoulder, looking for a waitress. I needed a drink even if just for something to do. I couldn’t spot a single server, though, so I got out of my seat.
“I’m going to get something to drink. Do you need anything?” I asked.
“A vodka and cranberry,” Irelyn said with a smile. “Please.”
“Just a diet cola for me,” Bailey said, digging in her purse.
“I got it,” I said as I turned to wade through the crowd.
It took several minutes to work my way to the bar, squeezing between two patrons on barstools. I lifted a hand, trying to get the bartender’s attention, but he was occupied at the other end, refilling drinks for a group of girls.
Blowing loose strands of hair out of my face, I leaned against the bar, waiting for him to notice me.
“Need something?”
I snapped my head around, my gaze landing on familiar smoky eyes. “Um, yeah.”
The stubble on his cheeks lifted with his smile as he rested his forearms on the bar. “Our roles are reversed, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I said.
“I knew you looked familiar,” he said, still grinning. “You used to come here all the time. You hung out with the hot girls, right?”
The hot girls, yeah.
“I usually sit with Irelyn and Bailey, yes,” I said. “But I haven’t been here in awhile.”
“I know,” he said. “So, Morgan, what can I get you?”
“How do you know my name?”
Rolling his eyes, he straightened. “Duh, you had a nametag on the other day when I came in for coffee.”
“Oh,” I said, slightly stunned that he’d remembered my name. “Oh, well, um, I need a vodka and cranberry and two diet colas.”
“Hitting the hard stuff, huh?” he said as a slight smirk toyed with the corners of his mouth. He plopped three glasses on the bar and filled two with diet cola. He spun around to dump vodka in the last one, topping it with cranberry juice. “Can you carry them or do you need a tray?”
“I can handle it,” I said. “What do I owe you?”
He winked – an actual wink – and held up his hands. “On the house. It’s good to see you here again.”
“Um, thanks,” I said as I collected the glasses and elbowed my way back to the table. It wasn’t until after I set the drinks down that I noticed a new occupant at the table.
“Hi, Morgan,” Jessica said with no enthusiasm whatsoever in her voice.
“Hi,” I said as I took my seat. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming or I would have gotten you a drink.”
“It’s no problem,” she said, rolling her eyes. She half stood, looking at the bar. A second later she waved with a cheesy smile and then sat. “Evan is working. He’ll bring me a drink.”
I didn’t bother to ask who Evan was as I really didn’t feel comfortable talking to her. I barely knew the girl, just knew her from the diner where Irelyn waitressed. But I did know that Jessica was currently dating Spencer and, as childish as it was, that made her an unfavorable person in my book.
“So, are y
ou girls going to the little get together at the Newton house this Sunday?” Jessica asked, leaning over the table as if discussing something confidential.
“I’m working,” Irelyn said.
“Lucky bitch,” Bailey snorted, sitting back in her chair, arms folded over her chest. “We’re going.”
“Oh, it’ll be fun,” Jessica said, shooting a quick look in my direction.
I wanted to smack her. I mean, did she really think I cared that she was going to Collin and Lucas’s parent’s house on Sunday?
“Here, Jessica.”
I looked up to see the bartender who’d waited on me sliding a drink in front of Jessica.
“Thanks, Evan,” she cooed, practically batting her eyelashes at him. As she dug money out of her purse, Evan looked at me, lifting his brow, amusement in his eyes. “Keep the change.”
“Sure thing,” he said, clutching the money in his hand. He turned to me. “Need anything, Morgan?”
“No, but thanks,” I said with a grateful smile.
“Okay,” he said before strolling back to the bar.
“Do you know him?” Jessica asked as Irelyn and Bailey eyed me, puzzled.
Leaning over the table, I stuck my straw in my mouth and took a sip. “He comes into the coffee shop where I work.”
“Oh,” she said just as the lights dimmed and the band hit the stage. Conversation at our table slowed as the music started. I sat back in my chair, my eyes constantly landing on Spencer, and enjoyed the show.
They’d seemingly gotten better since I’d heard them last, and the original songs that they did were fantastic. I wasn’t sure who this record guy was or where he was sitting but I was hoping that he was enjoying the show as much as I and just about everyone else in the bar.
When the first set ended, the guys didn’t jump off the stage and join us. Instead, they sat on the side of the stage, heads close together, talking quietly as a waitress brought them beers.
“They don’t sit with us between sets anymore,” Jessica said, noticing where my attention was focused. “They go over the set, talking about what worked and what didn’t, before going over the list for the next set.”
