Page 11 of Latte Girl
Man oftheHour
Jordan
Ilockthe doors of my I’m-An-Obnoxious-Prick BMW and head to the elevators of Knox Security’s underground parking garage, ready to start day two of my job. I’m waiting for the doors to open when Uncle Ludo shows up next to me, car keys jangling as he tucks them into the pocket ofhissuit.
“Jordan! How’s my new junior managertoday?”
“I’m alright, Uncle Ludo. Howareyou?”
“Good as ever, good as ever,” he chimes as we get into the elevator. “Did you get my memo about thebudget?
I nod. I’ve gotten several memos from Ludo already today. He sends them out to the finance team on an almost hourly basis. I think he just likes the chance to prove he’s capable of using moderntechnology.
The doors open to let a few people in at the lobby, and Ludo checks hiswatch.
“Hmm. Still early. Why don’t you join me for a coffee, Jordan? We can get you up to speed on thedepartment.”
While spending an extensive amount of time with Ludo is not on my list of favourite things to do, I figure that I can’t really turn the head of my department down, and would also take just about any excuse to put off going into theoffice.
“Sure,” I answer, and we step into the lobby and then out onto 19thStreet.
There’s a medium-sized cafe just beside the Knox building. In all the years of coming here, I’ve never been inside. I’d blame it on a preference for drinking my espressos at home, where they don’t cost me six dollars apiece and can be enjoyed naked if desired, but the truth is I’m just not really acoffeeguy.
A bell chimes above us as we walk inside. The place is busy at this hour of the day, and there are a few people ahead of us in line. I scan the menu boards attached to the wall. They’re faded and tacky, with clipart coffee cups and bubble letter headings. The whole place is in need of arevamp.
That doesn’t stop the drinks from being wildly overpriced, though. I’m deciding between a tea and a regular brewed coffee when Ludo gives me one of his spine-crushing backslaps.
“Well if it isn’t that hot little thing I found in your officeyesterday.”
I look behind the counter and see that he’sright.
The catering girl, the spoon girl, the hiding-under-my-desk-with-my-briefcase girl, is sliding a tray of muffins into the glassdisplaycase.
When thinking about her yesterday— which I did a lot of— I told myself that I had to be mentally exaggerating how pretty she was. Seeing her again, in that oh-so-easy-to-untie apron as she lines up the muffins to make them perfectly straight, makes me realize that I waswrong.
“What was her name again?”asksLudo.
“Uh...”
It hits me then that I didn’t even thinktoask.
“Don’t even know her name? Jordan,youdog.”
Ludo thumps his hand against me yet again. I swear I can feel a bruise developing between my shoulder blades, and decide I’ll have to start wearing some sort of protective vest if I’m going to be spending this much timearoundhim.
“Good onyou,son.”
I decide it’s time to set thingsstraight.
“Look, Uncle Ludo, she was just dropping off my briefcase. Really. Itwasn’t—”
“Jordan, Jordan. Don’t think you need to explain this sort of thing to me.” He lets out one of his raspy laughs. “I know what it’s like, finding yourself in close quarters with a girl like that. A man just can’t help himself, especially with the ladies being easier than ever these days. So long as you’re discrete, you go ahead and get yourkicks.”
I often find myself wondering how Ludo managed to completely miss out on every development in women’s rights over the last half century, or ever get laid. This is one of thosemoments.
“Ludo, Inever—”
He just makes a shushing sound as the person ahead of us steps aside and we move up to the cash register. Another girl in her twenties standsbehindit.
