Page 79 of The Wild Card
Collin:If you’re unsure about dinner, I can call ahead and make sure the restaurant knows NOT to serve you anything with Satan’s cucumbers.
I laugh, then startle as Kelvin steps back into the room.
“Now you’re laughing,” he says. “Maybe you should consider a job that involves paperwork on a daily basis. But not yet! Since, you know, we’re happy to have you in an acting role. I forgot to ask—do you take cream or sugar?”
“Just cream if you have it. And only if it’s not the powdered kind.”
“Got it.” He gives me a little salute and disappears again.
Molly:A pickle-free dinner sounds great.
Collin:See you when you get home.
Home. Just like he isn’t asking me on a real date, he doesn’t mean home like it’s reallyourhome.
And it’swaytoo early even if this were a real relationship to be entertaining this idea. I’m shaking my head, trying to shake loose the very bad ideas taking root there, when a text from an unknown number pops through, saying,Hey, Molly. This is Thayden. I hope it’s okay that Collin shared your number with me. He said you have a contract to look through, but you might be too stubborn—his words not mine—to reach out. I’d be happy to take a look. Just send it over.
He texts again with his email address, and when Kelvin returns with my coffee, I stand, picking up the stack of papers. “I’m sorry—I actually would like my lawyer to have a look before I sign. Any chance you could email me a digital copy for him to look over?”
After forwarding the digital contract to Thayden, I wander into Kalli’s coffee shop again, hoping to catch up on social media. I need to post the last of my prerecorded, non-Collin content. Though I think people might revolt if we don’t post another couple video soon.
Today, though, the coffee shop is completely packed, with a long line of people stretching almost to the bathroom. Kalli catches my eye, offering me a half-hearted wave. She’s behind the espresso machine, which is whirring and hissing out steam. Her movements are quick and precise. But sweat beads on her forehead and her mouth looks tense.
I lean across the side of the counter. “Are you working all alone?”
“For now. Finding good help is hard,” she says. “I’ll be fine.” She glances up at the line and her shoulders slump. “In an hour or so.”
“Can I help? I don’t know how to make coffee, but I’ve worked registers before.”
Her eyes brighten. “Seriously? I don’t want to take advantage of you but?—”
“You’re not. I offered.”
Kalli agrees and less than two minutes later, I’ve got a Calliope Coffee hat and apron on, and I’m ringing people up using the iPad mounted on the counter. It’s much easier than the hulking register at the boutique I worked at for a while in high school. That job, like all of my jobs so far, was also short-lived. I try not to think about that too hard or let it send me into a tailspin of wondering if I’m just the kind of person who can’t be trusted to make decisions. Or commitments.
It only takes a few minutes to get my groove, and I channel my online persona—bright and bubbly—as an attempt at crowd control since a lot of people look impatient. Standing between people and their caffeine source isn’t for the faint of heart.
But it works, and Kalli slowly relaxes until she’s moving fast but with loose limbs and a smile. A few people recognize me from social media and seem excited to have me ringing up their orders. I’m thankful my follower demographic skews young, which means most of them are in school right now. Even a quick conversation slows me down.
What seems like hours later but is actually only about twenty-five minutes, we have a lull. Both of us slump back against the countertops, which are strewn with coffee grounds, milk, and various other casualties of the coffee rush.
“I cannot thank you enough,” Kalli says, starting to wipe down the counters with a damp cloth. “I’ve had trouble finding people to work part-time hours. Sometimes, being alone is fine. But at times like that …” She shakes her head, then takes off her cap and adjusts her ponytail. “You don’t want a job, do you?” she jokes.
I straighten, thinking of my dwindling bank account, the social media I’d like to quit, and the contract I have qualms about. “Actually … I could fill in for a while.”
The words came out of my mouth almost as quickly as the answer popped up in my brain. And though it really just feeds into the wholeMolly can’t make a decisionthing, it feels right. I like the vibe here. I like Kalli.
And though working behind the counter in a coffee shop isn’t really a career or what I planned, it was easy and honestly satisfying. Plus, I don’t have any of the doubts that started creeping in while I was trying to sign the Brightmark contracts. It feels right.
And it would allow me to step back from creating online content—at least once Collin sells the gym and I’m not helping with damage control. Having some steady money, even if it’s minimum wage, would offer me the freedom I’ve been searching for, or, at the least, a buffer.
But maybe Kalli really wasn’t serious, because she’s simply staring at me, blinking.
“If you’re just kidding, it’s fine,” I say quickly. “But if you really do need someone, I happen to have a lot of time on my hands and could use a paycheck.”
I’m shocked when Kalli lunges forward and wraps me in a hug. “Thank you! Yes!” I laugh as she releases me and steps back. “How soon can you start?”
I glance down at my apron, grinning. “I think I already did.”
