Page 3 of Three More Shots
She leans over and brushes her fingertips on the girl’s shoulder. “Come on, Ainsley. It’s our turn.”
No response. In opposition to her mother’s request, Ainsley slides further away, babbling about the candies in the brownies, the powdered sugar, the caramel, and the thick icing. Again, with reciting everything she sees. Jesus.They’ll be here all damn day if she has to list out all the scone, pie, and cake pop flavors too.
“Ainsley?”
Still no frustration in her tone. Which if it was me, I’d be jerking that kid next to me and making sure she stays there. Yet all the woman does is glance back and give me an apologetic smile. Her gaze flicks to mine for less than a second in embarrassment.
“Sorry. Go ahead.”
Not giving me the opportunity to respond, she turns away and steps closer to her daughter. Waiting beside her without a word. Patient and understanding while Ainsley slowly reads the miniature green signs for the various flavors, sounding out the chocolate and red velvet in a confused pitch.
The guy behind the counter looks at them and then me, uncertain what to do with a customer not following the normal rules of society. But I’m not hesitant at all and tell him exactly what I want. What I need to feel a little more normal. Blonde roast. No cream. No sugar. All the caffeine.
Two more people place their orders before Ainsley loses her interest in reciting the various sweets and gallops back to her original spot in front of the cash register. Luckily, the teenage girl she hops in front of doesn’t notice the interloper. So engrossed in her phone, a damn nuclear bomb could explode and she wouldn’t realize she’s been ousted backward. Although Ainsley definitely notices me and the other two guys waiting at the pick-up counter for our drinks.
She points at us with a small finger, remnants of orange polish streaking over her tiny nails. Outrage darkens her round face and widening her blue eyes—almost as brilliant as her mother’s. “They cut.”
Her mom bends down closer and shakes her head, dismissing the complaint. “We got out of line, sweet pea, so they took their turn.”
“They cut.”
“It’s no big deal. We’re getting ours now.”
“They cut!”
Damn.This kid can’t let anything go. Now the other accused guys watch her as well. Neither of them able to ignore the sharpness of her reprimand against them.
Her mom’s voice lowers along with her head. She smiles a nervous smile at them and then back to her child, attempting to soothe the ire brewing between everyone. “Yes, they did. I guess they forgot to wait for us, but that’s okay. I know they didn’t mean it, and we’re not in a hurry.”
The acknowledgment of the perceived slight seems to appease her, and with the acceptance, her small body softens, matching her mother who relaxes too. The taut muscles around the woman’s shoulders lower from hunching with her worry. “Now, are you ready for your Blender Blast?”
“Caramel! Caramel! Caramel!”
A total one-eighty from the anger radiating from the kid just two seconds ago with her now jumping up and down and flapping her hands. This child wears me out just watching. Which I’m tired of already and start searching the other workers bustling around in the back for my drink.
The hipster behind the counter smiles and nods while he scribbles on the cup, seemingly glad the budding tension has evaporated. “Do you want whip on the blast?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Ainsley answers for her mom, but she doesn’t protest. I guess she’s just happy the kid’s finally happy.
“What’s the name?”
“Corinne.”
He swipes the gift card Corinne gives him. “Okay, that leaves you owing thirteen cents.”
Shock lines her delicate face, and she unzips the small black purse strapped across her body. “Sorry, I thought there was enough.”
“I told you, Mommy. I told you it was almost all gone last time we were here.”
“Uh-huh.” She digs more frantically, blushing from the delay. “You’re right, sweet pea, you did. You have such a good memory.”
It’s so fucking painful watching her panic. Yanking out her wallet. Rifling through the folds with urgent fingers. Holding up her bag to the light to see the bottom better. The agony’s almost enough to make me pull out my own money just to end her misery.
Finally, she looks up. Shame flushes her expression. “I’m sorry. I think I have some change in my car. I’ll run and get it and be right back.”
He shakes his head and grabs some coins out of the small tin box next to the mints and gum. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it.”
