Bridget had been the manager of the café portion of the Glitter Cup Café and Bookstore in Dayton for three years. Over the course of those years, she’d picked up on the habits that her superiors had about communication. Unexpected calls like this were highly out of the ordinary.
She sat down at her desk and picked up the handwritten note that Sean had left on a post it by the phone. ‘Shelby Jackson—Call her ASAP!’
Bridget picked up the phone and dialed. “Hi Shelby, this is Bridget Belvue, over at the Dayton café...?”
“Oh, good! Glad you called, Bridget, though it’s a bit later than I hoped. This is going to come as very short notice to you. I wanted to give you some more warning, but such is life, I suppose! How are you? Things good over there in Dayton?”
“Um... yes, everything’s going well,” Bridget said. She glanced at her watch. “I usually get in at nine, since I stay until closing. It’s still a quarter to. What’s this about being late?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that you’re late. I know you’re one of the best café managers we have. No, no, nothing like that. It’s just I feel a bit guilty about springing this on you. I was hoping you might pop into your store earlier than usual, so you’d have some more advanced notice.”
Bridget waited for more. She was curious to know what her regional supervisor was talking about, and she knew that the best way to find out would be to stay silent and let her talk.
Shelby continued. “I had a strange call from Florence this morning,” she said.
This piqued Bridget’s curiosity even more. The original Glitter Cup had started out in Florence as a book shop that also sold coffees. The owner, a man by the name of Giovanni Costa, recognized that the success of his popular Florence café could be replicated throughout Italy, as well as in other cities in Europe. He’d experimented in Rome, Paris, London, and Dublin, and, as Bridget had heard many times, didn’t stop there. He’d gone on to open over 300 Glitter Cup Cafés worldwide.
While it was strange to hear from her regional supervisor, it was even more unexpected to hear that the corporate headquarters in Florence was involved. She felt a bit nervous as she waited for more.
Shelby went on. “They have a strange order for your Dayton café, and asked me to pass it along. Apparently, they’ve hired a new barista for you. His name’s Sebastian. He’s going to report to you today, at ten a.m.”
Bridget felt relieved and confused at the same time. “But we’re staffed up,” she said. “The café portion of our store has seven full-time employees, myself included. To be honest. I don’t really see the need to add another. Our sales haven’t picked up or anything lately, so I don’t see why they’re sending an extra pair of hands.” She frowned. “And what about the usual hiring process? I usually interview potential employees myself, to see if they’ll be a good fit for our little team.”
“I know, I know,” Shelby said. “It’s all very strange. Quite out of the norm. They said not to worry about the new hire paperwork. I guess it’s all been taken care of. These orders are coming down from the top, so we’ve got to roll with it. Again, sorry to spring it on you like this. I know how much goes into training new folks.”
“We’ll make it work,” Bridget said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. The truth was, she didn't like the thought of adding another barista to her team. For one thing, the space behind the counter was limited. The bookstore portion of Glitter Cup took up most of the square footage of their downtown shop, leaving just a small corner for the café. Three baristas on each shift was ideal; any more and it would be too crowded. Each barista had a clear duty to perform: one at the cash register, one at the espresso machine, and one handling the food. What would a fourth do?
The other thing that made her uneasy was the fact that this barista was coming in without her approval. Bridget usually used her keen sense of perception to figure out which applicants would fit in well with her existing team. What if the new barista wasn’t a good fit?
While thinking all this over, she started to complete her beginning-of-shift duties. She checked her email, put together the dairy order for the following week, and printed up a few fresh signs for the baked goods counter.
A little before ten, she exited her office. The back room, which housed the dishwashing station, fridge, freezer chest, a shelf for the stereo and a few rows of dry goods, and a small area for the staff to put coats, aprons, and purses, was empty. She moved out into the area behind the café counter. There was a small line formed in front of the register. Christine, in her late twenties, was at the register. Her long blonde ponytail squished against her back as she wrote down an order on a cup. Her voice, distinctive because of the quirky blend of accents that she had (Bridget had never been able to place it exactly, but thought it might be a mix of Midwestern and Bostonian), rang out above the hum of noise in the café and the bookstore beyond.
“Two shots in there, or three?” she asked the waiting customer.
Adrianne, a big-boned, athletic woman in her forties, opened the microwave, which had just dinged. “I have a Morning Twist here for Roy!” she called out as she placed the paper-wrapped baked good on the counter.
Sean was adding whipped cream to a large drink, and he looked over at Bridget as he worked. “Did you get a chance to talk to Shelby?” he asked. “Everything alright?”
She nodded at him. “I did... She had some interesting news.” She waited for Christine to hand the customer their change, and then she said, “Everybody—quick announcement. We’re going to have a new worker joining us today. I haven’t met him yet, but he’s been approved by the higher ups, so I’m sure he’s going to be a great addition to our team. Let’s do our best to make him feel welcome, okay?”
The team agreed, and quickly got back to the hustle of getting orders ready. At ten after ten, a man walked up to the café. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties. The first thing that Bridget noticed about him was the long, bumpy scar that ran from his forehead to his jawline on one side of his face. It looked very fresh—red, raised, and bumpy. The second thing she noticed was his haircut. He must have cut it himself—perhaps with a hacksaw. It was the worst haircut she’d ever seen—little clumps of hair stuck out at odd angles while some sections were cropped close to his scalp.
He wore a baggy white tee shirt, a sweatshirt that had cartoon characters printed all over it, and stiff khakis that stopped a few inches above his bright white sneakers. Despite his odd-fitting clothes, he looked quite healthy and able. He frowned as he waited off to the side, near the counter but away from the line of customers. “Excuse me—is there someone named Bethany here?” he asked, once he caught Bridget’s attention.
Bridget shook her head. “No Bethany,” she said.
His frown grew deeper. “I was told to talk to Bethany. I’m sure that I’m in the right place. I’m supposed to... wow. I can’t believe I’m going to say this. I’m supposed to work here... serving drinks or something.”
“I’m Bridget,” Bridget said carefully, eying the guy. “Is that what you mean?” As she looked closer, she saw he had a handsome face, though the scar was so distracting that it was almost hard to appreciate. His eyes were dark and bright. What was going on with his clothes? she wondered. His appearance was very incongruent. She was usually so good at reading people, but she couldn’t get a clear first impression of him, besides the fact that he seemed very unhappy about being there, talking to her.
“Oh, yeah. Bridget. That’s who I’m supposed to talk to,” he grumbled.
“You must be Sebastian,” Bridget said.
He nodded. “That’s me. I could really use a cappuccino, if you don’t mind. Light on the foam, with half of a raw sugar, please.” He lifted a hand and rubbed his temple. “It’s been a nightmarish twenty-four hours. Have you ever had to ride the bus?”
Bridget’s mouth fell open. Did this guy just order a drink from her, after showing up ten minutes late for his first shift, and calling her by the wrong name?
It was so inappropriate, it was almost funny.
“Let’s get you outfitted in a company shirt and your name tag,” she said. “Maybe you can have that cappuccino on your break. You get one drink per shift. Actually, it’ll be great for you to make that cappuccino to get a little practice on the machine. Have you worked as a barista before?”
Bridget walked to the side of the bar and flipped up the hinged countertop to let him through. She motioned for him to follow her toward the back room. “No,” he said disdainfully. “I’ve never worked before.”
“Excuse me?” she said. “You’ve never... had a job—is that what you said?”
He cleared his throat. “Uh... I meant not in the service industry. I don’t usually serve people.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I think you’re going to like it, as long as you enjoy being around people. Customer service can be very rewarding. Tell me... how is it that you found your way to us?”
She was trying, gently, to furrow out the meaning of Sebastian’s assignment. It seemed strange that he’d been assigned for work at her store from all the way over in Florence. What was the meaning of his appointment? Why was he here?
“I just... well... I was traveling some and that came to an end, rather abruptly.” he said. “And here I am. Lucky me.”
The last bit sounded somewhat sarcastic, which Bridget didn’t like. His answer was entirely too vague, too.
She held all this in. I’m going to handle this carefully, she coached herself mentally. If corporate headquarters wants me to employ this guy, then that’s what I have to do. I just have to roll with it, like Shelby said.
She smiled as she lifted an apron off of a hook. “Here you go, this one can be yours. I’ll print up a name tag for you in just a minute.” She reached for a shirt out of a milk crate on the floor below the aprons. “And here’s your uniform shirt. I’ll send you home with another two. Each employee gets three to start out with. In the fall, as the weather gets chilly, I’ll issue a long sleeve shirt to you, and I’ll give you a fleece when winter comes around.”
Usually, new employees said “thank you” at that point, but Sebastian said nothing as he accepted the shirt. Instead, he held it up and examined it. “Awful,” he said, with a shake of his head. “Just awful. You’re saying I have to wear this?”
Bridget thought his response was odd, given the unstylish assortment of clothes he had on—seriously, who was he to judge? He didn’t seem to care about appearances at all. But again, she let it slide.
“Yep, I expect you to wear that, along with a pair of khakis or black pants—no jeans, please—to each shift. What you have on now will be perfect.” She motioned to his khakis.
“I’d hardly call these perfect,” Sebastian said, eying his pants with disgust.
Bridget shook her head. Sebastian sure was an odd duck. “Get changed up and meet me out front,” she said. “I’ll give you a tour of the bar area, and then I’ll have you make up a few drinks as practice. I think you’re going to like it here, Sebastian! It’s a really pleasant place to work. I always enjoy coming in. We’re glad you’re here.”
She wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but she thought she heard him say, “That makes one of us,” under his breath as she walked away.
3
Beauty
It was five o’clock, and Bridget was helping her crew with the clean up duties when her father, Danny Belvue, walked in.
“Dad!” She leaned over the counter to deliver a kiss to his cheek.
He was grinning. “Hello, Pumpkin,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. His gray hair was even more of a wild mess than usual, his spectacles were smudged, and there was an ink stain on his worn blue sweater.
“Good day, hm?” she guessed, judging by his disheveled look. Usually his messy appearance indicated he’d had a good day in his science lab. He held a manilla folder in his hands, and it was filled with a thick stack of papers.
“You first,” he said. “How goes it here?”
Bridget picked up a nearby rag and started wiping down the countertops. She was constantly telling her staff not to stand idle and chitchat with friends and family, and she was always careful to lead by example.
“Pretty good,” she said. “We had a new guy join our staff today. His name is Sebastian. Corporate sent him over. Someone near the top must have called in a favor for a family friend or something—that’s all I can guess. I sent him home already, and he’s supposed to be back for the 11-6 shift tomorrow. We’ll see if he shows.”
“Good guy?” Danny asked.
Bridget paused, just briefly. “Kind of rough around the edges, actually,” she said. “He doesn’t have a great attitude so far about work, and he’s got zero people skills. I’m hoping he was just having an off day.”
“We all have them,” Danny said.
“Well, you’re not having an off day today,” she said, giving him a bright smile. “You look like you’ve been getting some work done.” She motioned with her chin to the folder. “Making progress with your bio plastic?”
“Not just progress,” he said, leaning in a little bit. “Bridge, I got it. I got it!” His eyes shined brighter now. He was trembling a little bit with excitement. Bridget felt her hand start to tremble, too. She stopped wiping down the counter. Her eyes widened. “Dad, for real?” she asked. “That’s fantastic! You figured out the formula?”
“It was right in front of me the whole time! I was searching for a molecule close to polydiketoenamine, but what I really needed was—” he stopped short. “Well—I really shouldn’t talk about it here like this. It’s a proprietary blend now, and I’ve written the exact steps down in here.” He held up the manilla folder.
“I’ve already had a call back from that private space exploration company I told you about, GenSpace, and they expressed interest in buying the patent!”
“Dad, congratulations!” Bridget hurried over to the hinged door at the end of the counter.
For as long as she could remember, her father had been working in his lab, forever “this close” to coming up with a variety of plastic that was lightweight, good for the environment, and extremely durable. He maintained that the new material would open up new frontiers in technology, especially related to what space crews could bring with them on rocket ships. He was adamant that space travel could be privatized, and that space exploration could lead to solutions for the world's environmental problems.
She’d lost hope that he would ever succeed in his endeavor, seeing as he wasn’t getting any younger. His obsession with his quest had made it very hard for him to take on other projects, though he was a talented inventor. For as long as she could remember, her father had lived on a shoestring budget.
“GenSpace already offered me ten million for it,” Danny said happily, as he accepted Bridget’s hug.
Bridged felt tears come to her eyes. She squeezed her father harder. “I am so happy for you,” she said. She let go, for fear of crushing him with her enthusiasm. “Let’s go out to dinner tonight to celebrate! The café closes down by six, and the post-close cleaning duties usually only take a half an hour. I could make us a 6:30 reservation over at Big Bobby’s Burgers.”
“That sounds perfect,” Danny said. “I do need to eat. It’s been a while... I’ll just browse the books while you finish up. I need to learn all that I can about selling proprietary information before I start meeting with these potential buyers.”
Bridget knew how her father was when he was in his lab—it was rare for him to pause his important work for a mere earthly bite of food or sip of liquid. Once he’d even collapsed, only to wake up a few minutes later with a bump on his head and a willingness to finally break for food.
“Let me bring you one of those juices you like,” Bridget said. “You can have it here in the café. Bring over the books you want to read. I’ll put your juice right on that table.” She pointed to a table in the little café area.
Danny nodded, and bustled off to find his books. Bridget
fetched the tropical juice her dad liked and set it out on the table. Then she returned to her work behind the counter.
Sean was restocking the espresso machines. The little brown beans clicked and clacked as they hit the plastic storage bin attached to the machine. “I couldn’t help but overhear your dad’s news,” he said. “He finally finished the invention he’s been working on?”
Adrienne joined them. “Move over,” she told Sean as she knelt down to restock a little fridge with milk for the next morning. “Yeah, I heard, too. That’s so exciting, Bridget! Your dad’s gonna be rich!”
“He really deserves this,” Bridget said. She couldn’t wipe the smile from her lips. “You guys know how obsessed he’s been with figuring out how to improve plastic...”
“For decades, right?” Adrienne asked as she shoved a gallon of whole milk onto the refrigerator shelf.
Bridget nodded. “Totally obsessed. I’m thrilled that his hard work is finally going to pay off. We’re going to go out to dinner to celebrate.”
Christine joined them just as Bridget finished talking. She had a milk crate full of bags of chips in her hands. “What are you celebrating?” she asked as she sidestepped over to the counter and started loading chips onto the display by the register.
“Her dad made a breakthrough with his invention,” Sean said. He pointed out to the table where Danny sat, poring over the papers in his folder. “That little folder contains papers that are worth millions, Christine.”
“He’s going to be rich!” added Adrienne.
Sean nudged Bridget. “I guess our next Friday night dinner out at Big Bobby’s is on you!”
Christine pushed the last crinkly bag of chips into place, and then turned around. “You know,” she said with her strange accent, “your dad should talk to a lawyer before he sells his invention. What if some big company tries to rip him off? Or worse, steal it?”
Beauty and the Blackmailer Page 2
