Unexpected Customers

She’d been working at Black Magic for a month and had really settled in well. The only person she didn’t really get along with on the staff was Keshaun’s wife Kara. She was nice enough, but she was a snob. She constantly made references to not enjoying living in Pittsburgh and how much she wished they could move back to New York. She complained about not having the fancy condo and talked all the time about the extravagant lifestyle they used to live with five-star dining and trips to exotic locations.

Keshaun ignored her for the most part, but Famke was of the opinion, if he was being blasted like this at his place of business, he must really be getting blasted in the privacy of their home. She had learned Keshaun had experienced a heart attack at the age of thirty-two. Stress from his job had him dropping in the middle of the bullpen, as he’d called it. He’d been diagnosed with a heart condition and told to find a new job which wouldn’t cause him the stress he was under.

He had told her he’d been trading billions at the time, and it was high stress. He had made his own millions by then, so he’d packed up, moved to a smaller city where his grandparents had lived and opened a coffee shop. He had told her opening his shops had been a different kind of stressful, but he still went to bed at a decent hour every night, he hired all the right people to run his books and he lived a good life. He’d been doing it ever since.

Kara didn’t seem to agree. Right now, she was arguing with Keshaun about taking a trip back to New York to do Christmas shopping. Famke was stuck in between the two of them as she served customers while Keshaun was grinding and packaging beans for resale.

She passed the customer his drink and was a tad irritated when the door chimed again signalling another customer. She would have preferred nobody so she could go hide with Cesar in the kitchen. She was stunned to see Royal walking in carrying a small child in his arms. She couldn’t help but stare at the little girl who rested her head on his shoulder as if she had just woken up. Another eerie sense of déjà vu filled her.

“Royal!” Kara exclaimed excitedly as she rounded the corner. “I didn’t know you were coming but you’re right on time. Tell Keshaun there is nowhere better to shop in the world for Christmas than New York.”

He laughed, “Kara, I do my shopping online.”

“See?” Keshaun waved at him and passed his wife to embrace his friend in a tight hug and to plant a noisy kiss on the little girl’s head.

“Uncle Keshaun! Your lips are sticky,” she protested his kiss.

“I’m sorry. It’s because Cesar is making a new recipe for a cranberry fritter, and it’s covered in a sticky glaze. Do you want one?”

“No. I want a sandwich.”

“A sandwich?” he asked. “I will go to tell Cesar to make you a tuna sandwich.”

She shrieked at him as Famke chuckled. The girl clearly didn’t like tuna and her Uncle Keshaun knew it. The girl’s eyes rounded to her.

“Who are you?”

Bold. The child was bold and beautiful with big dark eyes, her skin dark and silky smooth with a smattering of freckles across her nose. It was the freckles catching her eyes. She shook her head again and told herself it was coincidence.

“This is Famke. She works here,” Keshaun explained. “You can tell her what you want, and she will make it happen.”

“Can I have a hot chocolate with lots of whipped cream?”

“You sure can, sweet girl.” Famke smiled at her. She looked to Royal, “for you?”

“Hi Famke. Nice to see you again. A black Americano,” he passed her his travel mug. “It might need to be rinsed.”

“I got you,” she smiled and moved to the sink to wash it out. She listened with a smile as Keshaun continued teasing the little girl and eventually agreed to get a turkey sandwich made for her. He took both Royal and the girl into the kitchen to see Cesar.

Again, the sense of longing for what never was, hit her as if the swinging doors were striking her directly. She forced herself to focus on her task at hand.

A few minutes later a woman sauntered in, dressed as if she had stepped off a magazine cover and waved to Kara. “Kara, darling, its so good to see you.”

“Ambrosia!” she exclaimed and raced to her. “Royal didn’t say you came with him. Oh, thank God someone to talk to who gets it. I’m surrounded by bumpkins.”

Famke ignored the jab and smiled politely at the stunning woman. She wondered if this must be Royal’s wife but then noted there was no wedding band or even an engagement ring on the fingers she was strumming on the counter.

“Well, I asked to tag along with Royal but didn’t realize he was bringing the kid with him. She’s so damn whiny and cried half the trip.”

Famke felt her lips tighten at the comment but said nothing.

Ambrosia impatiently snapped her fingers at Famke who was making the child’s hot chocolate. “Do you work here? Can you take my order?”

“I do and I can,” she smiled politely. “What would you like?”

“I’d like for you to pay attention.”

“Okay. Let me finish this and I’ll be right with you.”

“Um, no. Now.”

Even Kara seemed uncomfortable with the way Famke was being spoken to, but Famke set the drink down and gave the woman her undivided attention.

After Ambrosia spouted an order for what Famke would consider a chai latte minus everything which makes a latte delicious, she returned to making the hot chocolate.

“What are you doing?” the woman demanded, her voice shrill.

“I’m completing the order I had started and then I will start yours.” She frowned as pondered for the first time whether she was doing something wrong.

Keshaun reappeared from the kitchen to hear Ambrosia’s next comment.

“Where does he hire these useless twits from? Listen here little coffee maid, you will make my chai first. Forget everything else and focus on the customer in front of you. Do you even know who I am?”

“I know who you are,” Keshaun interrupted, “you’re a class A bitch and if you talk to my employee like this one more time, I don’t care that you’re currently spreading your legs for my best friend, I’ll throw you out on your ass.”

The woman turned a bright shade of red as she sputtered with rage at the insult.

Keshaun looked to Kara, “you really want to move back to New York and be friends with assholes like this? No thanks. I’m good.” He turned to her, “Famke, Precious asked if we could put marshmallows instead of whipped cream on her hot chocolate. Royal is taking her to the bathroom to wash her hands and they’ll be right out. You can set their drinks in the corner booth when they’re ready.”

“Okay,” she was fighting a huge grin on her face from the way he’d told Ambrosia off. What kind of name was Ambrosia anyway?

“I am not sitting in a booth,” Ambrosia hissed and looked around, “why can’t we sit at one of the high tables?”

“Because you have a five-year-old with you who would fall off the chair,” Royal said as he came back out carrying said child. The little girl wriggled in his arms, and he set her down.

She raced behind the counter and stood next to Famke. “Are you making my hot chocolate?”

“I am,” she made big eyes at her and kicked her leg out behind her to drag a step stool closer. “Hop up. You can pass me the big tin over there and help me put marshmallows in. Did you remember to wash your hands?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Good girl.” She smiled down at her and winked. “Uncle Keshaun won’t even notice if you ate a marshmallow or two.”

The girl giggled loudly and stuffed several marshmallows into her mouth.

“What is your name, love?” Famke asked her.

“My name is Precious. I am five. My mommy and daddy died three months ago before my birthday. My Uncle Royal takes care of me now.”

Her heart fell to her feet at the matter-of-fact delivery of the words the child recited. She bent at the waist and looked her straight in the eyes, “Well, Precious, my name is Famke and my mommy and daddy died when I was a young girl too. It’s not easy, is it?”

“No ma’am.” She shook her head, her braids swinging. “I miss them all the time. I cry a lot.”

“I did too but you know what?”

“What?”

“When I was younger and I would get sad, I would think of the silly things my daddy did and it would make me laugh. My dad always had a way of making us laugh.”

“My dad was silly too!” Precious exclaimed, excited they had something in common. “He once put ten marshmallows in his mouth at once.”

“My dad could put a whole hotdog, with the bun, in his mouth. My mom would yell at him for being gross, but it made us laugh.”

The child tucked her little hand into Famke’s elbow and rested her head on her bicep, “can you be my friend, Famke?”

She nodded, “I can always use one more friend.” She agreed.

“Oh my God, enough,” Ambrosia gave an annoyed grunt, “yes, yes, your new employee is good with kids. But who cares if she takes two damn hours to make three drinks? You need to get better staff, Keshaun. This one is clearly retarded.”

Famke bristled at the word, hating it with every fibre of her being. It was a mean word her brother had heard far too many times in his life. Nothing spoke more ignorance to her ears than the word. She was about to respond when Keshaun interrupted.

Keshaun looked to Royal and questioned quietly, “does she turn into a pretzel or is she a contortionist?”

Famke choked on her spittle at the blunt suggestion Royal could only be with the woman for her body and wasn’t surprised by the infuriated way Royal dragged the woman through the coffee shop, into the back.

“She’s mean,” Precious said suddenly. “My grandma said she wants to marry Uncle Royal but if she moves in our house, I’m running away.”

“Don’t blame you, kid,” Famke said quietly. She considered in the child’s shoes she might have run as well. She was half tempted to run already.