- CHAPTER SIX -
Ellie
He loves me? Is that what he said? He said he loves fucking me… Didn’t he?
I burst through the door to the coffee shop, The Steaming Joe. Removing my beanie and coat, I look up and Old Geoff is glaring across the counter at me. His bushy brows are raised in the same stupid way they always are…
I know the look. It means it’s going to be a long fucking day.
“I’m not sure who’s watch you’re using, but the batteries need replacing,” Old Geoff calls out, his finger tapping the silver watch on his wrist.
The coffee shop is already busy. Surprise surprise. It always is. Downtown Vancouver is a bustling business district, and for over two decades, The Steaming Joe has been the one stop coffee shop for suited men in the morning, tired moms during morning tea, and relaxed students seeking out a sweet treat on their way home from school.
“Sorry, Geoff,” I mumble, clutching my stomach.
A queasy feeling bubbles and I’m not sure what’s making me feel this way. It can’t be the scrambled eggs Miles made; they were fucking delicious. I love a man who can cook, and to follow it up the way he did in the bedroom, boy, I could get used to that.
‘I fucking love you…’
Miles’ voice echoes through my absent mind. I grab my disgusting dark green apron and begin working the tables. My feet drag as I allow my thoughts to drift while collecting empty mugs and plates. Half-eaten muffins and the foul stench of soymilk lattes send my stomach rolling over with a horrid whirling feeling.
‘I fucking love you…’
I sink into one of the booths to take a load off. Old Geoff is distracted by the increased amount of tickets for takeout coffee being thrown his way. His face is red, and his scowl is fiercer than usual, so I know I’m safe to put my feet up for at least a few peaceful minutes.
It’s been a long night and I’m really not feeling too flash today.
I stare out of the window of the café and see the busy bodies of important businessmen and woman striding up the streets, all studying their watches and cell phones with hard expressions. The steaming streets are chaotic at this time of day, and I couldn’t think of anything worse than joining those people on the rat race into the office.
I’ve never understood it. For me, work is just that… Work.
I enjoy working at The Steaming Joe. I’ve been here a few years now, and despite what Old Geoff might tell you about my work ethic, it’s a fucking good job.
As I rest my head on the table, an ear-splitting bell chimes and I shoot up. Looking across behind the counter, I see my boss shaking his fist at me, waving me down.
Fuck. Busted.
With a deep sigh, I push up off the chair, collect the mugs and shoot down to the counter.
“What’s up, Boss?” I chime.
Old Geoff stares at me, his grey hair extra frizzy and wiry today. “Takes these to table twenty-nine. They’ve been waiting far too long.”
He shoves two plates of scrambled eggs and French toast in my chest. I go to grab the plates, but the force behind Old Geoff’s hand sends one slice of toast falling to the floor.
“Fucking hell, Ellie!” Old Geoff screams, his face almost catching on fire he’s so red.
“What? That’s not my fault! If you passed them nicely-”
“Oh no… Nothing is ever your fault…”
A wafting scent of scrambled eggs floats from the plate in my hand and my stomach gives a deep hurling motion. It’s like I’ve just zoomed down a steep hill. I force myself to gulp down, hoping to hell that it will force the vile back down.
“Geoff…”
I do my best to interrupt. OId Geoff needs to get these eggs away from me pronto. The eggy-steam is stiflingly my breathing and I’m going to fucking hurl any second now.
“… perfect Miss Ellie. Yet, whenever I look around… There you are. Sitting on your fucking ass again. Do you know how many times I should have fired you?”
“Geoff… Please…” I try to pass the plates off, but Old Geoff is off on one of his rants. He’s not listening, and his hands are too busy flapping around wildly in a tantrum. I can’t just force him to grab the plates, so I try another gulp down to stem the flow.
“But no… You can’t do that anymore. I’m not allowed. You’ll probably sue me or some shit, won’t you?”
Another hurl of my stomach has vomit lodging at the base of my throat. I can’t hold it in. Fuck. Everything around me is just a blur. Old Geoff’s voice is fading. The heat prickling the back of my neck is stinging all the way around to my eyes, making them unfocused and blurry.
“I guess you’re pleased with yourself… Now you’re all shacked up with whatever that fucking hockey players name is…”
Old Geoff is just a blabbering blur now. I drop the plates to the floor and with a loud smash ringing out behind the counter, I cup my mouth, spin and race towards the bathroom with my apron flapping behind me.
I reach the door and kick it, nearly knocking a patron over in the process.