by Clover Hart
Is he … yeah, is he glancing over here to see whether I’m watching?
Too bad I’m not.
I turn my back and start fiddling with the espresso machine, showing him that I’m totally oblivious.
And that’s how I stay until my shift mercifully ends.
The next morning, I open Screaming Beans just as the lights are starting to go on in the windows of our town. I’ll be putting in a full shift before I head to class this afternoon at Cherry Valley Community College, and I’m hauling my ancient laptop and textbooks in my backpack. I plop my bag onto a shelf in the backroom and get ready to rock the day.
The sky is just blushing with a hint of sunrise when I unlock the front door and then head behind the counter to take early-bird orders. This entire time, my gaze has barely brushed over the table where the Full Circle posse sat yesterday until I went off shift. They could’ve closed the place down for all I know or care.
I actually don’t expect to see Zach Hamilton ever again after he and Barry realize Cherry Valley isn’t their cup of java and move on to another town.
Many cups of coffee and slices of pie later, I realize that I might be right — the boys aren’t back, and Full Circle seems to have already put my sweet town in its rearview mirror. They barely gave us a chance.
Well, good riddance, right?
The crowds keep me busy, and I have no time to dwell on the absent invaders until late morning rolls around.
Then, just like they own the place, they turn up yet again with their power cords and laptops. As they set up camp at the same table as yesterday, I calm the flutter in my belly, especially when Zach moseys up to the counter to place an order.
No big deal to see him again. Really. Even if the eyes behind the glasses are so damned blue and gorgeous that …
I blink, then tear my gaze away and focus on a much safer place — the tee he’s wearing that features the word Atari and what I take to be its symbol right above it. I’ve read Ready Player One so I’m up on my 1980s.
“Back for more insults?” I ask while clearing the computer screen to take his order. Boy, he makes me jumpy.
He smiles. “You know I’m a glutton for your insults, especially when they come with creamy smiley faces on top. Will I get one of those today or are they reserved just for Barry?”
Well, well — didn’t he bring the flirt again?
When his smile only grows, something spirals in my chest, and I suddenly and randomly think about how a ewe will sometimes sniff, lick, or nuzzle a ram when she’s in heat. The male, in response, might lift his nose and curl his upper lip. None of that is going on here, of course, and the fact that these trivial bits are crossing my mind makes me freak out a little more.
But I can be cool. Very cool.
“So why haven’t you left town yet?” I ask.
He seems surprised at the question, and just to show him that I’m not being mean about it, I wink and smile, adding to my coolness quotient. “I’ve got to stay up on the gossip, you know. Screaming Beans is a melting pot for it.”
“Then you can inform everyone that Barry and I have meetings today to check out commercial properties. He’s leaving tomorrow, but I’ll stay for a while to get a feel for the town.”
A feel, huh? From the way a few other female customers keep looking over at him, I’m thinking he’d have no trouble getting a few volunteers.
Anyway.
“Have computer, will travel anywhere, huh?” I nod over at the laptops on his table.
“Yeah, it’s nice to have a mobile office.”
I keep smiling at him, expecting him to place his order. He just looks at me like he did yesterday, and moment by moment, the air between us starts to melt like sugar under drips of water.
But this isn’t going to happen. He’ll be gone soon, and he’s the last thing this town needs. The last thing I need.
“So what’ll you have today?” I ask.
He clears his throat as if I pulled him out of the same reverie I was in. The sound rises over the Miranda Lambert music I put on earlier and travels far enough for his business partner to overhear.
Obviously entertained, Barry once again settles back in his chair to enjoy the show. As he crosses his arms over his new tee — the face of a character from Pulp Fiction with the words “Say What Again!” — I think that all the guy needs is a bucket of popcorn to complete this cinematic experience.
A couple of other people are in line now, so Zach makes his order short, asking for two horchata lattes, plus two slices of pie.
Then that’s that.
Almost.
All I have left to do is deliver the drinks to him, and today I linger at the table just long enough to see Zach’s expression when he spies the cream smiley face I drew on the latte. He grins, and before he can look up at me, I go back to work, silently calling myself an idiot for taking that extra, flirty, useless step.
Thank God I’m swamped with customers until an hour before lunch, and the next time I look around, I find that Zach has stepped outside to take a phone call, and Barry is deep in concentration, as usual. The few other customers are quietly doing their own thing, too, so I grab my own laptop to glance one more time at the twenty-page paper I’m turning in today for my psychology class.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to ace it … until my computer gives a sad little bleep and the screen goes dark.
I don’t move for a second. Then I try to turn it on again.
Nothing happens.
Panic wells in my chest as I shake the damned thing. My paper … all my assignments …. Everything is on this laptop.
Tears are heating up my eyes, but I’m not going to spaz out. Not yet. I’m going to fix this, but everything I try doesn’t work.
Now I’m really panicking.
I look up as Zach comes back into the coffeehouse and sits at the table with Barry, then awakens his computer with a sure touch.
My brain crackles with an idea. Computer nerds. Techies. All the work that’s just gone poof on my laptop …
But seriously? I’d rather gnaw at the nails that hold this counter together and eat them for my next meal than ask for their help.
Still, the more I try to fix the crappy thing, the more I know that I’m hosed.
Trying not to make a pained face, I swallow my pride and walk over to the enemy camp and wait until Zach notices I’m there.
“Help?” I say, offering an olive-branch smile to my knight in Atari armor.
Chapter 7
Zach
“I’ve got good news and bad news,” I tell Mandy as I come to the counter with her laptop after the lunch rush.
While I worked on her computer — which has probably been around since the abacus was the newest thing in calculators — she took care of customers. Another barista reported in to work the register while she prepared orders and delivered them to the tables, and little does she know that I kept sneaking looks at her the entire time.
She’s just as appealing as she was yesterday, but now she has her hair in a high ponytail and she’s wearing a different pair of faded jeans with those harness boots. She’s got a new tee shirt on — a long-sleeved purple one with the same Screaming Beans logo on it — and she stretches out the front of this one really well, too.
To say that certain parts of my body haven’t noticed would be a bald-faced lie.
I only wish those parts of me didn’t notice so frequently or adamantly.
As Mandy wanders over to me from where she’s been stocking shelves with her co-barista, I can already see her expression falling. “My mama always told me to get the bad news first. That way I can move forward with the good.”
“I like that positive approach. It’s going to help when I tell you that this equipment has finally given up the ghost.”
“Meaning …?”
“It’s done for.”
As she sighs, I wonder if I could’ve put the news about her old and outdated computer to her in an even gentler wa
y. Truthfully, I could’ve roasted her in the first place because there was ample opportunity to make fun of her hunk of junk, but I resisted, knowing that being a barista doesn’t pay a hell of a lot. She’s also a student, and I know that when I was one of those, I was living on ramen and donating blood on Fridays so I’d get drunk faster on the one night a week I could afford a few beers.
Even ambitious nerds need to cut loose every once in a while.
Mandy has planted her elbows on the bar and is covering her face with her hands, speaking through her fingers. “When you say ‘done for,’ how done for do you mean?”
No way around this. “It’s deader than a lobster in butter sauce.”
She peeks at me, and I don’t know whether she’s about to laugh at my attempt to lighten her up or break into tears. Then she drops her hands to the counter with a thud, and all I can see on her pretty face is exasperation.
“Great,” she says. “Now I have to save for a new computer along with everything else.”
I don’t know what that everything else might be, but at least I still have some good news for her. I hold up one of the extra flash drives I keep in my laptop case.
She cocks her head with a hopeful glance, and something in my chest tilts as well.
“On this powerful little stick,” I say, “you’ll find your files.”
“You salvaged them?” She’s beside herself now. “My papers? My assignments? My life?”
“No big deal. It was child’s play.”
As I hand the drive to her, her eyes light up. Her virtual armor falls off while she looks at me as if I’ve saved the day. It was such a simple thing I did, but it matters to her, and the smile she’s giving me is … God, gorgeous.
It’s the first time she’s found a real smile with me.
She takes the drive, her fingers brushing mine. A spark bolts through me, and both of us jerk away. I don’t know if she felt the electricity, too, but the current is surging down to my belly, humming there.
Neither of us says anything as the country music from the sound system inserts itself between us, all thudding bass and beating rhythm.
Then she holds up the drive, interrupting the moment. “Really, thanks so much for this. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”
“Sure.” I grin. “I guess having techies around Cherry Valley isn’t such a bad thing after all, is it?”
She rolls her big light-brown eyes and, just like that, we’ve circled back to jousting with each other. Her playful armor’s back on, putting us at a slight distance.
“You know,” she says, “I always thought techies weren’t people persons. But you’re actually pretty good with customer relations.”
Wait. Is she extending an olive branch, pointing out that I’m not such a West Coast automaton after all?
“It almost sounds like you’re surprised that I don’t fit into the socially awkward nerd stereotype Cherry Valley was expecting,” I say.
“I suppose I am. I mean, just look at your socially awkward nerd partner over there.”
“I heard that,” Barry says from his table while he types on his laptop.
“So you’re saying you don’t think I’m a nerd,” I say, still testing her.
“Well …” She gestures toward my Atari shirt and then the rest of my hipster clothing. “Maybe you’re just not a typical Silicon Valley introvert.”
We both laugh a little at that, and I feel her armor get a bit looser.
I want it to come off some more.
“I have no problem admitting it,” I say. “I’m all nerd. You should see my apartment — equipment, cords, and wires of all types. There’s so much tech around that you can’t step anywhere without tripping over it.” I don’t add that I can afford all that shit because I’m now making money. That would sound a little too much like bragging.
Mandy is leaning her hip against the bar, actually interested. The virtual armor on her is still slipping, and my heartbeat starts to knock against my chest.
“I wasn’t born in the Bay Area,” I say. “I’m originally from Montana.”
“So that’s why you’ve got some people skills. That’s why …”
She stops herself, and I wish she’d just go on.
That’s why you’re a pleasant surprise to me, Zach.
It could happen.
But she only folds her arms in front of her chest as if to put another barrier between us, then changes the subject.
“So, Full Circle Technologies,” she says. “What’re you guys all about, anyway?”
Yup, we’re definitely back to being polite strangers. But FCT is my passion, just as Cherry Valley is obviously hers, so here I go.
“FCT develops mixed reality technology,” I tell her.
“Is that like virtual reality? One of my teachers mentioned something called augmented reality and how it’s being used in science, but I’m not sure what’s what.”
I lean against the counter, just as she’s doing, and my geek takes over. “Mixed reality is the next wave. See, after a user straps on their virtual reality equipment, they’re immersed in a completely different, artificial world. With augmented reality, you can use something as small as glasses or your phone as a sort of ‘lens’ that you aim at the actual world around you. Except, through this lens, your real world has a virtual layer on top of it.”
I pause to see if she’s getting all this. So far, so good.
“As I said, Barry and I are capitalizing on mixed reality with Full Circle,” I add. “It takes augmented reality a step further. Instead of having just a layer superimposed on top of our real world, MR allows digital and physical objects to work together and interact right before your eyes. Make sense?”
“It’s starting to.” She cocks her head again, and unlike other people who ask about my business then tune right out, she’s with me. Somehow that gives me a woody. Figuratively.
Okay, actually.
“MR is the future, and we’re banking on it. See, we’re going to build tools that’ll take advantage of the most radical advances in digital technology since the development of the computer. It’s a future that’ll transform not just the devices we all use everyday, but it’s going to change us and our world. Health, retail, transportation, manufacturing, education, gaming, and entertainment … everything’s going to explode with new possibilities, and FCT will be ready. We’re focused on a cluster of technologies from other companies that are already coming to market. Their products are in their early primitive versions and everything is overpriced right now, and FCT is sure as hell going to change that.”
Now there’s something in her eyes that’s soft and open, and I’m drawn in. It’s as if she’s seeing something in me besides the enemy who’s come to Cherry Valley to destroy it. I’m even more than the geek who just rescued her files.
Then, in the next second, it’s as if she’s realized that she’s shown me too much, and she stands away from the counter. But she doesn’t have her arms barred over her chest anymore.
“That’s some story,” she says, maybe even a little breathlessly.
“Like Barry and I always say, technology’s about to come full circle.” I hold up my hands. “The end.”
I grin, hoping she won’t shut me out now, and as the music plays overhead, beat by beat, I think there’s more to her than the usual guardedness.
But then she looks at her watch — an actual old-fashioned regular pink analog watch — and she stuffs the flash drive into her front jeans pocket.
“Well,” she says, “I definitely owe you one, even if a master of the universe like you will have the world at his feet soon. I mean, you did save all my files … and my ass. I have a paper to turn in today, so now I can just go to the college’s library to submit it.”
I’m … still on the ass part. Now I can’t stop thinking about how those jeans cup her rear end, and I’m getting some wood again.
Unfortunately, Barry has chosen this time to take a break, and his activity of ch
oice is listening in on our conversation.
“Point of clarification, Barista,” he calls out in the nearly empty shop. “What, precisely, did you have in mind in terms of ‘owing’ Zach?”
The only other customers — a young cowgirl reading a book and the kid in the knit cap ahead of me in line yesterday — look over at him.
Mandy gives Barry a withering stare before he laughs and pretends to go back to work.
“Ignore him,” I tell her.
“Done.” She’s smiling again as she pats her jeans pocket where the flash drive is. “But I mean it. I owe you, and I’ll give you free coffee and pie for the rest of your stay. The tab’s on me.”
The last thing I want to do is make her spend part of her paycheck on me when she was obviously stressed about buying a new computer.
Then I find myself pressing my advantage, talking before I probably should.
“I’ll tell you what,” I say. “I’ll call it even on one condition.”
It’s the return of the sidelong, wary glance from Mandy. “And what would that condition be?”
I smile. “All you have to do is try sushi. Just once.”
She smiles as if enjoying the fact that we’ve returned to more familiar ground. “Are you trying to modernize this country girl?”
“Maybe.”
Then she triumphantly holds up a finger. “Nice try, but there aren’t any sushi places in Cherry Valley. Remember? I told you that yesterday.”
“You also said there’s got to be a sushi place in Marloe, which is about an hour away. I’ll even rent a car and drive you to the city, just so you can thank me after you have your first bite.”
“I’m sure I’d be real thankful for the slimy joy that might await me. Uck.”
Then she laughs until she seems to realize that I’ve asked her out on a date. But I didn’t. Not really. The last thing I need is to piss off Cherry Valley by making them think the big bad techies are here to hit on all their women.
“It’s not a date.” I raise my eyebrow. “It’s a dare.”
