An old man lumbered up and banged on the glass.
“We’re closed,” Duke mouthed to him.
“And we’re dancing!” I told the man. I took Duke’s hand and curtsied to him. He did miss a beat, but then caught up and deeply bowed in my direction. The man staggered away waving us off in annoyance.
"Oh my God, I'm sure you've got way better things to do. Thank you for your incredibly chivalrous and life-saving help. You’ve got a future in barismo, if you’d even want to pursue it. I’d write you a kickass recommendation myself."
"Glad to do it," he said. He was still busying himself wiping down the tables. Customers were slobs. Couldn’t even walk over to one of the many garbage cans to clean up after themselves.
"Please, you don't have to do that. I can manage, you've already done so much.
Can I make you a drink before you go? Or you want to leave me your Venmo, I’ll just pay you for the day when I get my next paycheck." He looked at me like I’d said something distasteful.
“You don’t have to pay me.”
“I feel like I should do something. You worked the whole shift just as a favor to someone you’ve never met?”
"Coffee for life? That sound like a deal?"
"You've got it."
"Also, I'd love to know your name," he said.
"Maddy!” He’d said it a few times already and looked at my name tag. What’d he think, I was working undercover? There was an entire section in the coffee by the pound called “Maddy’s Picks” on the wall.
"I know, but like, your full name. How else am I going to find you again?”
Was this guy some kind of psychopath who would want to stalk me? Or report me to Larry for letting in people off the street to run the Perk’s register. Was I on Undercover Boss or another one of those shows? Would this guy out me? Or did he really just want to know my name for a lifetime of free coffees?
News to him, I was working on my business degree and I wouldn’t be a barista for very much longer—if I had my way about it. He didn’t need to know that yet though.
"Madison Stephens," I said as I offered my hand to him. When he covered it with his own sizable hand, and gave it a strong shake, I felt some sort of energy surge through my body, a sensation so strange that it almost hurt. My instinct was to back away from something so unfamiliar, but I stood my ground and tried to maintain eye contact. It hummed from his grip all through my limbs and shot up my spine to the back of my neck. I wanted to flinch and I could feel my face flushing. Maybe I needed more coffee, I sure as hell needed something.
"Nice to meet you, Madison. I'm Duke Miller."
"I know."
"You do?"
"A lot of the customers knew your name already. Especially that one lady who wanted to drink an ice cream cake."
"Bitch, you can call her a bitch if you want to. I knew her in high school, and let’s just say she hasn’t changed her colors. Small person-small minded, or however the cliché goes," he said smiling.
“Big person-big minded?” I asked him. Duke was a literal giant. Maybe this was a way to flatter himself.
“Big everything,” he said. He didn’t break eye contact. But I could tell when his innuendo dawned on him and his entire demeanor changed.
"Oh God, that’s not what I was getting at," he said.
Then I started laughing, not just a giggle, but a full on choking and snorting until my eyes watered. I’d gone and lost my mind after all the stress and tension this morning. I tried to reel it back in and raised my hand to my mouth. Mortification washed over me. It was a mistake, not a joke and I was laughing like it was standup comedy. My stupid laugh was notorious. Most people hated it, but to my family and close friends, it was what they loved best about me. Gran said I’d always had a big laugh, even as a tiny baby.
“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just the whole situation. A stranger saves me from a total work meltdown and now we’re talking about penis size.” I laughed some more as I stacked mugs into the bussing tray.
"It's adorable, really. A lot of girls do that weird laugh where they want to seem like they’re laughing, but it's just this nervous way to distract from how self-conscious they are. I hate that. Your laugh is the real thing. It’s a cool quality to have. I like it."
As I listened to him, I couldn't help thinking he was the kind of man that garnered a lot of attention from women. He wasn’t just good looking, he was smart and really down to earth, incredibly easy to talk to. If I imagined this scenario with any other man, I’d be clutching my pepper spray. But Duke felt like a familiar, comfy chair. I’d totally let my guard down and I wasn’t the least bit scared. On the contrary, I had the urge to lean in closer to him, to find a way to make him stick around even just a few moments longer.