Page 52 of Cream & Sugar
“Correct. I’m Freddie. Are you guys regulars?” I bluff, feigning curiosity.
Lara shakes her head. “Shaun and I have some history. I’mLara.”
She says her own name like she’s Taylor Swift, so of course I keep my face as blank as possible. Lara frowns and cocks her head. “Shauny hasn’t mentioned me?”
The repeated use of Shaun’s name seems to have snapped Bigvig out of his trance. He takes Lara’s hand in his and looks up at me expectantly.
I give them both an awkward smile. “Nope, can’t say he has. Sorry.”
A smug smile spreads over Bigvig’s face, but there’s no hiding the flash of disappointment in Lara’s eyes.
I clap my hands together. “Alright guys, if there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you to it—”
Bigvig holds up a hand to stop me escaping.
“Hang on,” his accent is a drawling American, “would you ask Shaun where he sources his matcha powder?”
I frown. “You mean where does he buy it?”
He laughs condescendingly. “No, like, where does hesourceit from? Whichcountry? Because you know if this matcha isn’t from the Uji region in Japan, then he’s selling a substandard product.”
My knobhead radar is never wrong.
“I’ll find that out for you, but I’m sure it’s delicious.” I give a tight smile. “Anything to eat for you guys?”
“Man, it’s not about it beingdelicious.” Bigvig explains, ignoring my question. “It’s about respecting tradition. Ifyou—,”he points a finger at me, “ordered a matcha, you’d want to know it was legit, right?”
“Um,” I shrug. How much can I get away with here? “Honestly pal, I’m the wrong person to ask. Kinda tastes like grass to me. But I’ll double check it’s not lawn trimmings from Shaun’s garden and get right back to you.”
Lara giggles, trying and failing to hide it with her coffee cup. Bigvig seems to have glitched, giving me the moment I need to escape. As I walk away, I catch him telling Lara he “doesn’t like my attitude.”
The feeling’s mutual.
I find Shaun squatting behind the counter, rearranging the cupboards and definitely not hiding from his ex.
“Everything okay?” he asks, as nonchalantly as a surgeon about to tell their patient that they’ve amputated the wrong limb.
“All fine,” I say. “Though the guy wants to know where you source your matcha powder.”
Shaun blinks. “As in, which shop?”
“Nah.Anything that hasn’t come from a specific place in Japan is dog shit, apparently.”
Shaun scoffs. “Allmatcha is from Japan. Did he specify where?”
“Yes, and I immediately forgot.” We share a smirk. “I can tell him it’s from Costco if you want? Although it might trigger him to death.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
I snicker as Shaun gets to his feet and picks up the little pot of matcha from its place atop the coffee machine. He studies the label.
“Made in… Kagoshima, Japan. If that’s not good enough, he can take it up with matcha.com.”
“Right,” I give him a little salute. “I’ll go break the news.”
“No, I’ll do it,” Shaun says, begrudgingly. “I know them—uh, I mean, I’ve served people like them before. Thanks, Freddie. Oh, and your cake looks perfect, by the way.”
As Shaun heads over to the table, I watch his butt as he walks away and can’t help but mutter “ditto” under my breath.
