A collective gasp fills the room, starting with entourage and spreading behind the counter.
One of the young girls on Wayne抯 crew bolts, covering her mouth to hold in terrified laughs before she flies out the back exit.
The shop goes dead silent.
All except for the teenager in the corner letting out slow, strained laughter through her fingers.
揈liza!?Wayne抯 eyes are bulging now. His barrel of a chest rises and falls in shallow breaths behind his apron.
Oops. I抳e crossed the line where I抦 doing more harm than good.
The Grumpfather clears his throat like he抯 been chewing broken glass, drawing my attention back to him.
揙kay, okay.?I hold my hands up defensively. 揟hat came out a little harsh. I抳e submitted my feedback, so if you don抰 mind I抣l just棓
揧ou抮e going to rue ever having this conversation with me, I think, when you finally learn the truth,?he rumbles, his brows pulled low like storm clouds.
Hey, at least I tried.
I let out a hissing sigh.
揧ou want the truth??I ask quietly. 揑抦 guessing not, but apparently everyone who works here is way too scared to say it. I don抰 have anything to lose except Wired Cup access for life. So, here it is梱ou, sir, could sink in a pool of perfectly pressed dark roast and not know you were drowning in good coffee. This棓 I hold up the cup again. 揟his serves its purpose, and I know my coffee棓
揂nd what do you think its purpose is??he clips.
揑t makes Wired Cup what it抯 supposed to be.?
He tosses his head impatiently, as if to say, spit it the fuck out.
揊amiliar. Comfortable. Easy,?I say. 揑t抯 a decent brew of a decent bean that抯 easily accessible to busy and decent middle-class people.?
He exhales sharply. 揊orgive me if I don抰 find a college kid calling my family抯 legacy 慸ecent?until the word loses its meaning high praise.?
I don抰 bother telling him to drop the act again. That ship has sailed.
揑抦 not a college kid.?
揂nd I, apparently, am not the owner of this business.?
揈liza…？Wayne sounds defeated, like a man begging for his life after he抯 already been crushed up in a wreck.
Ouch. Now I remember why we抮e doing this as I look at him.
He gives me a miserable look and says, 揝orry. I should have spoken up sooner. Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Cole Lancaster, the owner of Wired Cup Incorporated梐nd our CEO.?
Every eye in the room sticks to me.
I wonder if they can hear the floor crumbling under me.
揅EO? Him??I hiss, pursing my lips.
Wayne nods heavily.
揅hief Executive Officer,?Lancaster says. Like I don抰 know what it stands for.
My eyes follow his voice and land on his atrociously grumpy face again.
Only, this time, he holds out a business card with the Wired Cup logo on it梐n elegant-looking coffee cup plugged into an outlet.
I don抰 take it. I just read.
Underneath it, plain as day, are the words COLE LANCASTER桟EO.
Before he even speaks, I realize with some horror why I抳e heard the name Lancaster before. When you抮e so obsessed with coffee you抳e read the Wikipedia entry for every major brand, certain names stick. The Lancasters are basically caffeinated royalty.
I抦 sure he can hear my gulp.
揑f you抮e any bit the expert you claim to be, I trust you抳e heard of us. My father was the CEO before me. My family founded this company long before it was ever called Wired Cup.?
The woman who stands beside him covers her face with one hand. I can抰 tell if she抯 trying to hide mortified laughter or disappear.
It doesn抰 work. All the other suits burst into laughter at the way she looks.
Umm梬ell梒rap.
Way to screw things up, I think to myself, already dreading what happens if the monster in the suit retaliates by taking it out on Wayne.
Poor Wayne has a sick mother, too. He抯 told me about her a dozen times. He needs this job to take care of her.
Yeah, I think I hate myself.
The adrenaline rush from telling this jerk off is infinitely more effective than anything coffee has ever done for me. But knowing I抳e made things worse for someone else turns it into a sickly jitter.
I really, really hope Wayne doesn抰 get fired over my outburst.
I stare at his judge, jury, and executioner. Lancaster抯 clenched jaw and the crease in his forehead only seem to make his features stronger, more defined.
Does that mean more vengeful, too?
And his body梙is wall of angry muscle梩enses the way I imagine men must when they抮e stepping onto a battlefield.
Gah, I抦 so stupid.
I can barely face this guy now that the consequences are too real.
I don抰 know how I can say anything else, but I gather the courage. Even as my face burns ghost pepper hot.