by Harlow James
After living in a two bedroom apartment in Los Angeles throughout my entire childhood with a mother that didn’t give a shit about anything but her boyfriend of the week, I dreamed of living near the ocean since I never once set foot in it as a kid, since I never really got to step out into the world at all.
So once I turned eighteen, that’s exactly what I did.
I left. With my best friend Chloe by my side, we drove until we arrived in the town that offered plentiful opportunities and the ocean right next door. Little did we know just how damn expensive it was to live here, but we were determined to make it on our own and have been for the past eight years.
As the nippy morning breeze comes off the water and cools down my skin from the heat burning inside, I check my watch to make sure I’m staying on track during my run to be at work on time. My bare minimum is four miles so I feel like I actually broke a sweat. Playing soccer throughout high school conditioned me to develop a love of running, and even though I never did anything with the sport beyond high school, that need to pump my legs until my lungs burned never left my body.
As I arrive at the palm tree I designated as my start and finish line years ago, I slow my body down to a stop, checking the time on my watch once more to jot down a mental note about my overall time. Today wasn’t my best time, but not my worst either.
I stand on the corner of the sidewalk, waiting for the signal at the stoplight so that I can cross the road safely. As soon as the little man lights up in white, I run across the street and right to the gate that leads into our apartment complex.
When I said I wanted to live at the beach, I meant it—I literally live right across the street.
I stick my hand in my sports bra, reclaiming my key covered in sweat and open the door to my apartment just as the voice of my roommate and best friend startles me.
“God, you stink!”
I turn around to face her, taking in her bed head and slightly skewed pajamas. “Well, good morning to you too.”
“Seriously. You smell like fish and sweat. Like a dirty vagina.”
“Tell me how you really feel.”
“Why have I never noticed that before?” She eyes me before plugging her nose and stepping around me into our kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
“You’re not usually up right now.”
With a groan, she fills the coffee pot with water and pours it into the back of the machine. “Don’t remind me. But Mrs. Harrison insists that if Gizmo doesn’t get his walk by six in the morning, then he’s grumpy for the day.”
“Well now you get to be grumpy all day too since you don’t normally see the sun until eight.”
“I know,” she sighs dramatically, filling the filter with coffee I get for free from my job at the coffee shop—the job that I’ll be late for if I continue to stand here and listen to my cranky roommate whine.
“Why’d you take her on as a client then?”
“Because it’s good money. And my hours got cut at the gallery.”
“Seriously?”
A heavy sigh leaves her lips again. “Yeah. Victoria doesn’t know how much longer she’s going to be able to keep me on.” Since Santa Barbara is a pet-friendly town and full of retirees, Chloe has been able to make substantial income walking people’s dogs or pet-sitting while people are away. Her other job at an art gallery is primarily because it’s convenient and doesn’t require much effort.
“Well, shit. It’s okay, girl. We’ll figure it out.” Stress instantly builds in my chest, the kind that only worry about money can bring. But this isn’t the first or last time we will worry about making rent, and we’ll get through it as always.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug as she fights my hold on her. “Thanks. I know. And I appreciate your sympathy, but if you don’t go shower soon I’m going to have to light a candle and spray you with Febreze to get rid of your stench.”
I swear, if Chloe needed a back-up job, she could do stand-up comedy. “Man, I sure do feel the love this morning.”
“Sorry, girl. But with how bad you reek, I don’t know that anyone would love you.”
Shaking my head as I laugh, I hustle down the hall to hop in the shower and get ready for work.
Within thirty minutes, I’m showered, dressed, and running out of the apartment with wet hair to make it to It’s a Grind on time.
The smell of coffee assaults my senses as soon as I open the door of the coffee shop located just a few blocks from my apartment. Securing employment at this place was a god-send, not only because of the proximity to my home, but the free coffee helps cut down one more expense each week. You would think that by working in a place like this I’d get sick of it, but my love affair with coffee has only strengthened with each passing day.
“Thank God you’re here,” Melissa, one of the other employees, greets me as I tie my apron around my waist, pull my ponytail tighter, and take notice of the line out the door. It’s six-thirty and the morning rush is upon us.
“Where do you need me?”
“At the register, taking orders.”
“On it.” I slap my customer service smile on my face and then proceed to help the next customer in line.
Once the line has died down, Melissa comes over to me nearly breathless. “We’ve got to tell Joe to get you in here earlier on weekdays. I always feel like you walk into chaos.” Joe is the owner and pops in later in the mornings to help out and do inventory.
“Hell, I’m fine with that. More time on the clock means more money on my paycheck.”
“I’ll make sure to leave him a note in the office in case I miss him in passing.”
“I can mention it to him too,” I offer as I hear the bell ring above the door, alerting us to more customers. I keep my stance at the register, but focus my attention on her until I see movement out of the corner of my eye, signaling that the person is ready to order.
“So are you ready for your last semester of school?” she asks, and just hearing her say the words builds excitement in the pit of my stomach.
“Like you wouldn’t believe. I can’t believe it’s finally here.”
When Chloe and I first moved to Santa Barbara, I had no plan for my future. All I knew is that I couldn’t spend one more moment of living with my mom. She’d pretty much ignored me for the extent of my childhood, so it wasn’t like I was leaving behind a close knit family. But when we arrived and started working, Chloe and I started talking about the future, what we both wanted out of life. I didn’t have a definitive answer, but I knew I wanted to go to college.
So I enrolled at Santa Barbara City College and started working on my general education courses. I couldn’t take too many classes at a time since I was working endlessly to make sure I didn’t have to move back home with my tail tucked in between my legs. I know my mom would have welcomed me home, but the last thing I wanted was to get sucked back into her drama. For a grown ass woman, she has the emotional maturity of a sixteen-year-old girl.
Sadly, it took me almost four years to get my associate’s degree, but I was able to transfer to UC Santa Barbara mid-year to complete my bachelor’s and decided to extend for my master’s. It’s taken me three years, but as summer comes to a close, I’m getting closer to that finish line with just one more semester to complete and earn my degree in Sociology. I’m not sure what exactly I’m going to do with it just yet, but at least I’ll have it, which is much more than I ever thought I’d acquire eight years ago.
“Venti, non-fat, Americano, please.” The deep voice of the customer in front of me pulls me from my conversation with Melissa, and when I turn to face him, I’m greeted by the top of his head—sandy blonde hair sticking up haphazardly as he stares at his phone in his hands.
I reach for a cup and rip the cap of my marker off with my teeth before securing it on the other end with my mouth. “Can I get a name please?”
He finishes tapping a few keys on his screen and then lifts his head, giving me the perfec
t view of his face except for his eyes covered by classic Aviator sunglasses. Light brown stubble lines his well-defined jaw, his forehead is wrinkled from the rise of his brows, and his full lips are hanging open as I swear, I hear a small gasp filter through them.
“You …” he says, slightly inflecting almost like it’s a question, but more or less a statement.
“Me?” Tilting my head to the side, I contemplate the eerily familiarity this man is invoking in my body, but I’m almost positive I’ve never seen him before. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
He shakes himself from his frozen stare, glancing back down at his phone while clearing his throat. “No. I’m sorry. Uh… the name is… Wes.”
“Wes,” I repeat back, scribbling the name on the side of the paper cup while veering my eyes up at him in uncertainty, like maybe that isn’t his name.
“Yes. What do I owe you?” He reaches behind him to retrieve his wallet.
“Three twenty-five.”
His head pops up again with another startled look. “That’s more than Starbucks.”
A spark of defensiveness develops in my body. “Yes, but this is organic coffee and much better than Starbucks, I assure you. Besides, with the watch you’re wearing and the cut of your suit, I’d say you can afford it.”
A smirk builds on his lips as he continues to stare at me from behind his glasses—and I hate that a part of me wishes I could see his eyes—see if they are just as beautiful as the rest of him.
Just for a second I let my eyes roam over his stature—his navy suit that clings to the well-defined body underneath, the type of body that is easy to detect even beneath fabric, his large hands holding his wallet still as if time is freezing to allow me to seductively catalog all of the miraculous physical attributes of this man for safe keeping, and his height and presence that give the illusion of power and confidence, even though his hands are shaking slightly as he hands me his card.
“I don’t know. I’m sure there’s such a thing as being coffee poor,” he says through a chuckle as I slide the card through the register and then hand it back to him. The second our fingers touch, it’s as if a current of electricity shoots through his body into mine, and I retract my hand from his like I’ve just been bitten.
My reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by him as his eyes dance all over my face through his glasses. I can’t make out the color, but they are most certainly not dark and lacking life.
“Well, most people are everything poor, so I get the concern. But if you haven’t figured it out, it’s expensive to live here and enjoy life’s small luxuries.” I find my voice as I hand him his receipt. “The only reason I drink this stuff is because I work here.”
“Do you like working here?” He moves to the side to wait for his coffee as the next customer comes up to the register.
Bouncing my eyes between him and the lady standing in front of me, I quickly answer him. “I do. Nothing beats free coffee. Or cheese. God, I love cheese. Cheddar. Pepper jack. Smoked Gouda ...” What the fuck, Shayla? Are you actually rambling on about cheese right now?
His chest bounces with silent laughter as I yearn to crawl in a ball and die. “I’d have to say I agree. Thanks for your help, Shayla,” he says with a lilt to his voice that is borderline flirtatious, and I hate the way it sends a twinge of arousal to course through my body when I should be hiding in a corner right now. Seriously, I just talked about how I love getting free cheese.
For a moment, I wonder how on earth he knew my name when I didn’t offer it, but then my eyes veer down to my nametag and I mentally slap myself on the forehead for more than one reason. “You’re welcome, Wes. Enjoy the coffee.”
Melissa calls his name on the other side of the counter as he moves to accept his drink. “I will. Have a nice day,” he calls out as he turns and pushes through the door, my eyes eating up every last second of his view until a throat clearing in front of me startles me back to the present.
“Sorry,” I say as I feel my cheeks flood with embarrassment. “What can I get for you?”
The older woman in front of me just smiles a knowing grin. “No need to be shameful, dear. I was polite enough to let you finish eating that man up with your eyes because I was busy doing the same.” She wiggles her eyebrows as we both start to laugh.
“I mean …” I shrug unapologetically and then grin back at her before I bitch-slap myself back to reality.
The fumbling, insecure type of woman I just felt like is not the type of woman I like to be. The way interacting with him made me uneasy and nervous—yeah, I don’t ever want to be that woman in my life.
She reminds me too much of my mom.
The blatantly suggestive clothes she’d wear, the way she’d fumble through her words to say just exactly what she felt the man in front of her wanted to hear, the way she’d teach me to spot expensive watches, clothes, and cars as a sign that the man had money and could support me—yup, no thank you. I don’t ever want to have to depend on a man like that.
After I take the lady’s order, business subsides for a few hours until the late afternoon rush. Once there’s a lull in customers, Melissa comes out from the back with a smile on her face.
“Joe said you can come in at six now instead of six-thirty.”
“Awesome.” My mind starts calculating my next paycheck before I remember how much of a difference the lack of sleep will be on the days when I work at the club the night before and when school starts back up.
“Alright, well, I’m out of here. See you tomorrow.”
“Yup. See ya.” I wave her off as she falls out of the door and down the sidewalk. In a few weeks, I’ll be racing out the door to class on Monday nights, but luckily, the only thing calling to me right now is my couch and some greasy fast food.
As if the universe saw an opportunity to disturb my plans, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. With no customers needing to be helped at the moment, I answer the call around the corner.
“Hello?”
“Shayla? It’s Manny.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose while my shoulders slump. “Let me guess. You need me to cover a shift?”
His chuckle lets me know I’m right. “There’s no getting anything past you. So… can you?”
I check the time on my phone. “I’m at my other job right now, but I’m off in an hour. I guess I can help you out.” I hear his exhale on the other end of the line. “But you know in a few weeks I won’t be able to cover anymore. School will be back in session.”
“Yeah, I know. But right now, you’re saving my ass. Thanks, Shayla. See you at nine.”
I sigh in disappointment, but then remember my conversation with Chloe this morning. Her hours got cut, which means I might have to pick up the slack this month. An extra shift at the club—although interrupting my plans to do absolutely nothing tonight—couldn’t have come at a better time.
Once I arrive home, I take a shower, and then shut my eyes for about an hour until I have exactly enough time to make myself presentable and complete the drive to Ventura.
Loft 24 gets rather busy for a Monday night, a pleasant effect of the season, and additionally giving me less time to stew on the laundry list of things clouding my mind—school, bills, the twinge of horniness that won’t seem to subside—the feeling that was brought on by the handsome stranger from the coffee shop earlier.
Well, at least I think he was handsome. It’s hard to make a fair assessment without seeing his face entirely. But the reaction my body had to him speaks volumes for sure.
I remember the last time I had that reaction, just last week as I was working a Thursday night shift and the intense heat of his gaze singed my skin when I took in Mr. Suit across the bar that night.
As if tempting fate to make him appear again, my eyes seek that same corner, but a wave of disappointment hits me when I confirm that he’s not there.
Get it together, Shayla. Like you’d really see that guy twice in one week. He didn’t seem like the clubbing type at a
ll to begin with, or he was probably meeting someone later after his drink with his friend.
Shaking my head to shove the hopeful thought from my mind and push the disappointment to the side, I plaster my smile back on my face and finish out my shift, making sure to up my flirting to secure the most tips I can possibly make.
The hustle never stops.
Chapter 4
Shayla
Saturday mornings are for sleeping in, at least in my world. It’s the one day when I don’t have to be up at the crack of dawn to go to work or class. And even though school doesn’t start for another few weeks, the only place I have to be on Saturdays is at Loft 24, but not until much later this evening.
I stretch my limbs out, loving the way my satin sheets feel against my skin. I got a gift card for my birthday earlier this year and decided to treat myself to something nice. The chill of the morning coming through my window makes the fabric icy cold as it slides across my skin, reminding me that it won’t be much longer until the sun hits the point where even the cool ocean breeze can’t slice through the heat.
After I go to the bathroom to freshen up, I put on some shorts and a sports bra, tie my hair up in a ponytail, shove my key in tightly next to my boob like usual, and then head for the beach for a run. Chloe is already out the door early on Saturdays to walk a few dogs before she heads to the gallery for her shift.
Once my feet hit the sand, I pop my earbuds in, hit play on my favorite running playlist, and then take off along the shore, drawing energy from the waves of the ocean crashing up onto the sand.
Running always helps me sort through things, or in most cases, gives me a physical exertion to focus on rather than the mental heaviness that seems to never go away. And lately, I’m not sure why my body feels more anxious than normal. You’d think with graduation around the corner, I’d be more excited. But this anxiety is not of the anticipatory kind. No—it’s more the uncertainty that I don’t know what happens next.
Lost in my thoughts and pushing my body to go faster, I lengthen my stride just as a dog barks off to my right. Floppy ears and a wagging tail catch my eye on a golden retriever frolicking through the ocean. I love watching dogs discover the water for the first time, or seeing the excitement on their faces when they run for the water the second they realize it’s there. I think a small part of me connects with that feeling because that’s how it feels for me each time I’m here also.
