More Poison in Your Coffee?

Chapter 2

          If you're as smart as I think you are, I don't have to tell you that the day was a complete disaster. A goddamn nightmare. First of all, his royal dick head was over an hour late. He came strolling in here at two-ten head high, chest out just reeking of self-indulgence. He took off the designer sunglasses he was wearing that probably cost more than my car, and with a quick look around said:

        "This is it? What a shit-hole. Remind me to fire someone." I wanted to kill him right there. First, I worked hard on this shit-hole Mister, respect my property. And second my place isn't a goddamn shit-hole, thank you very much.

        He looked just like he did on TV. Tall and lean with a strong jaw that commanded authority. His chestnut hair was peppered an attractive shade of grey.

        Earl Owens, had gotten here around eleven o clock to make sure everything was set for Bo. He was a scrawny scared little man who couldn't weigh more than ninety-five pounds. I don't know how he held his head up every day. Thing was enormous, must have been eighty pounds in forehead alone.

        He'd shaken my hand; his sweaty and frail, and looked up at me.

        "Nice to finally meet. Earl Owens, Bo's publicist. We spoke on the phone." He took a handkerchief from his suit pocket and wiped his billboard brow.

        "Evelyn Harper, it's a pleasure." I lied. "I didn't know someone like Bo Conway was interested in our humble establishment." He nodded.

        "We feel it's crucial for Bo to reach a wider audience. We wanted to get him out here to meet the people. Get a chance to influence a younger hipper crowd. Bo's all about reaching the community."

        Whatever, as long as we get paid.

        Bo was scheduled to come in at one, but like all self-satisfied attention whores he felt the need to be fashionably late. A crowd had formed inside where die hard fans and curious bystanders had come to see the face of Channel Five in person. One good thing that came from his tardiness was a jump in sales. People love to snack while they wait. It's like they need something to do with their hands.

        Lana Miller was busy waiting and busing tables. She was a teenager who'd walked into Taste Tea's last year looking for part time work after school. I'd flat out refused her. I wasn't a fan of teen-aged high school girls, and I really didn't want her or her cheerleader friends in my cafe. Cheerleaders harsh the vibe you know. I changed my mind after her parents started throwing around words like "age" and "discrimination" and "big ass lawsuit", so here she was.

        The place was even more packed than I had anticipated. Who knew local celebrities packed so much clout?

        "Miss, I ordered butter-rum coffee this is clearly almond nut. What does this look like to you?" He held the cup up to Lana's face. His kid was loose, running around people's legs and causing general pandemonium.

        "Looks good to me. Or am I supposed to just magically know what kind of coffee your drinking with my eyes?" Lana was bent over a table collecting discarded dishes with as much interest as she could manage.

        "I know the difference between butter-rum and almond. I have sensitive taste buds." He shoved the coffee in her face. "Take it back." His bratty son was crawling underneath the tables and scaring some of the women by erractically grabbing their legs.

        Lana blew an irritated breath causing the loose strands of her tied back blonde hair to sway. "Sir I suggest you remove your nasty drink from under my nose before I make you wear that coffee." Her voice was calm, but her manner was deadly. I stepped in to do damage control.