Page 1 of The Roadie
Finding a parking space in front of Starbucks while battling downtown Chicago traffic seemed too good to be true. Kira Abelman had left the hotel 15 minutes early in order to get to the recording studio on time, but now it looked as if she was going to be late, thanks to some jerk who was holding up the line at the coffeehouse with his hundred-dollar bill.
“Just take the money,” the guy barked at the cashier. “It’s real. I drive a BMW. I don’t need to hand out fake hundred-dollar bills.”
Kira almost laughed at his arrogance, as if driving a BMW meant he was rich. People around her sighed and grunted, expressing their displeasure at the delay in getting their morning fix of caffeine.
“Sorry.” The cashier tapped the sign taped to the register. “No bills larger than a twenty.”
“Ridiculous!” Mr. BMW snorted. “Just take the hundred.”
“Sorry. If you don’t have another means of payment, I can’t serve you.”
While the two argued, a guy from the back of the line weaved his way to the counter. “Here.” He handed the cashier $10.00. “Pay for his coffee out of this and keep the change.”
Without bothering to say thank you, the arrogant asshole moved to the end of the counter to wait for his order.
The next girl in line approached the register and eyed the cool-looking guy that paid for the coffee with interest. “That was really nice of you. It’s not often you see someone show such kindness during the morning hustle.”
The guy turned and flashed a smile at the girl, and Kira’s jaw fell open. Not only was he generous, he was sexy as hell. He was well over six feet, and a thick dark beard covered his jaw. His powerful arms were inked in black and gray tattoos, and his broad chest formed a perfect arc. He commanded the room with his masculinity. What caught Kira’s attention most were his intense dark-as-coal eyes.
He smiled wider at the girl. “That’s because I’m from the West Coast. The sunshine makes us a little happier. Have a good day.”
A California boy, no doubt, he stuck out with his smiling morning face in a room full of pre-coffee grumpiness.
As he returned to the back of the line, Kira raked her eyes up and down his body. Tight jeans hugged his ass, and his arms held an array of curved muscles that extended up and over his shoulders.
Another commotion at the end of the counter drew everyone’s attention. Mr. BMW was having another meltdown because the barista got his order wrong.Some people are never happy.At least it was Kira’s turn to be served. She paid for her coffee, dropped two bucks in the tip jar, and headed for the milk and sugar station. Halfway there, Mr. BMW ran into her and knocked the coffee cup out of her hand, leaving a wet trail down the front of her top. She gasped as the hot beverage nearly scalded her, and she lashed out at the jerk who just stood there gawking at her. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?”
“I was walking in a straight line. You cut me off.”
“Are you serious? You were running through the place like it was on fire.” She glanced down at the wet stain. “Look at me!”
The jerk didn’t bother to respond and headed for the door, but the West Coast dude who paid for the coffee blocked the exit. “Apologize to the lady,” he demanded.
Kira was flabbergasted at his chivalry, but she didn’t want him to get into an altercation on her account. “It’s OK. He’s just a jerk.”
“That doesn’t mean he gets a free pass. That’s no way to talk to a lady.”
The jerk with the BMW snickered openly. “Who says she’s a lady? Now, get the fuck outta my way so I can leave.”
The West Coast guy narrowed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest, filling the width of the doorway with his broad shoulders. “You’re not going anywhere until you apologize to the lady. For the coffee and for the rude remark.”
Mr. BMW rolled his eyes and tried to push past the West Coast dude, which was the wrong thing to do, because now the guy looked really angry. The two ended up in a shoving match which ended with Mr. BMW pinned against the wall. “Fine. I’m sorry,” he yelled. “Now let me fucking go!”
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Tell the lady. And say it like you mean it.”
“OK! OK!” The guy cringed, then turned to look at Kira. “I’m sorry I spilled coffee on you and was rude.”
The West Coast dude released his hold and Mr. BMW raced out of the coffee shop. As soon as he left, the coffeehouse erupted into a round of applause.
The West Coast dude let out a surprised laugh and looked at the patrons around him, humbled. “Thanks. I didn’t mean to make a scene. It’s just that, where I come from, we don’t talk like that, especially to women. And I’m not gonna stand by and let anyone be disrespectful.”
Kira couldn’t believe a stranger had defended her so vehemently, of his own accord. Back in New York, people weren’t usually so quick to get involved in other people’s disagreements, so this was a nice change of pace. “That was totally unnecessary,” she told the man. “Thank you very much.”
“You can thank me by letting me buy you another cup of coffee.”
“It’s on the house!” the barista called from behind the counter, then placed two cups of coffee on the serving platform.
The West Coast dude retrieved them. He started to hand one to Kira, then stopped and stared at the wet stain on her top, his mouth gaping open. “Are you OK? I just realized that the coffee he spilled was hot.”
