Page 13 of Reuniting with Lucy

Lucy was talking to some guy wearing a beret and a yellow scarf. He looked like an idiot and soon proved himself one.

“I burnt my tongue,” the man complained.

“I’m sorry about that,” Lucy said. “Would you like a piece of ice?”

“No, I want my money back.”

“Is something wrong with your order?” she asked.

“It’s too hot,” the man said, getting more agitated and louder with each word.

“Did you order it iced?”

“No. I ordered it hot. I just didn’t think it would be this hot.”

Lucy stared at him, her mouth slightly agape, probably wondering if he was for real.

Then she laughed. “Did Lizzie send you over here to mess with me?”

The man stood stone-faced, glaring at her. “Who’s Lizzie?”

Lucy’s smile fell as the guy continued his tirade.

“Also, I can tell there’s regular sugar in it, not stevia,” he said.

“I made it myself, and I know I put stevia in it, but we can remake it if you’re not happy.” She reached out a hand, indicating he give her his cup. He held it tight.

“Are you saying I can’t tell the difference between sugar and stevia?” His face reddened.

Jack noticed the three old men in the corner, talking hurriedly in hushed voices and putting five-dollar bills in the middle of the table. Adam had warned him about how they bet on anything and everything going on around town.

By now, the shop was quiet, and all eyes had turned to the counter. Lucy’s fiancé had come in about twenty minutes ago, but he sat and stared with the rest of them, not doing a damn thing. Well, Jack had seen enough.

“You heard the lady,” Jack said, coming up behind the man. “You can have it remade or suck it up and drink what you ordered. Berating her and making an ass of yourself isn’t necessary.”

“Wha…?” he sputtered. “Who are you?”

“Just a customer who doesn’t appreciate his peaceful morning coffee interrupted with crybabies whining about their sweetener.”

“Well, I never…” He looked at Lucy as if he wanted her to defend him. She pressed her lips together, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Yeah. I’m sure you haven’t.” Jack plucked the cup from the man’s hand and read aloud. “Pumpkin spice latte, half almond milk, half soy milk, one stevia, two pumps vanilla. What kind of man orders a coffee like this? Take your prissy, foo-foo drink and beat it, eh?”

“It’s not foo-foo,” the man whined. “Lots of guys drink coffee like this.”

“Ordering coffee this way is just a fancy way of admitting you’re a virgin.”

The man looked up at Jack. Way up. Jack stood almost six inches taller and probably outweighed him by forty pounds. Pounds of muscle. It was times like these he was glad he put so much time in at the gym. Jack wouldn’t actually harm the scrawny little dude, but he didn’t know that.

“Last chance,” Jack said without looking away.

The man froze with his mouth open for a few seconds before snapping it shut, turning on his heels, and stalking out.

The Three Musketeers clapped. “Here, here,” Walter said, raising his coffee in a toast.

“Hopefully, we’ve seen the last of that pansy,” Archie added.

Curtis walked over and stood next to Lucy, putting a possessive arm around her waist. “I was just about to jump in too, but I thought you had it handled, babe,” he said, looking at Jack when he said it, clearly insinuating he’d butted in unnecessarily.

---