She E.O

Operation Cafe

C.E.O's POV
Shirt? Check. Pants? Check. Tie? Check. Keys? Check. My checklist runs a mile long. As I sip black coffee with ten sugars and tighten my tie around my neck. After the cup is drained, I push it into the dishwasher, wipe my mouth, grab my grey blazer, and head out of the door with my iPhone seven plus in hand.

"Note to self. These jeans fit lose at the waist and tight down the legs. Perfect. Get more." I type this into my reminders as I slide into my sleek, charcoal grey 2017 Camaro. Not your typical C.E.O car I know. But I suppose I'm not your typical C.E.O. Plus my corvette and Jaguar are a bit too shiny for this slight drive to my Miami office. I haven't visited it in a long time. The interns are being lined up and knocked out like pins. I guess I just want to be there to approve of the pruning process. Some people have potential that only I can see, and I intend to find it. I pull off and let the top down soaking in the Floridian air. This will be a quick but good trip. I feel it.

Jessamine's POV
This job sucks. So far I've made enough coffee to last me a month or more at my actual job, there is an industrial sized amount of whipped cream sprayed into my hair, and I am stickier than molasses. My feet ache, human beings are crazy and throw tantrums like one year olds when they are refused ridiculous things like..."Can I have the coffeemaker?" I mean, really? Can't you just buy one at IKEA? Or perhaps Walmart? Make your own damn coffee so you'll stop coming here running up my blood pressure. I continue whipping out coffee for three more hours until he lets me go at around ten p.m to clean and tend to other needs. By eleven Mr. Ahmed Russo is gone. That's my boss. By the end of the shift all I can think is "that's an orientation?", but I guess so. While I wash dishes I talk to Bridget. The manager, and get some information. All she can say is everything positive. Margot, an assistant manager,says the same, and as does Sydney. The Barista. Everything checks out pretty well. I'm beginning to think that perhaps this is a waste of time.

When I go home I tell Hayley everything that happened and she's bored. She helps me wash my hair and remove the whipped cream. Afterwards I slide into the shower and scrub myself clean. Finally at around two a.m I sit in a towel as Hayley works on reports for school that I finished a week ago. I text Amaya my brief summary of the day, and strip my towel wrapped up beneath the soft sheets. I close my eyes and drift peacefully to oblivion.

I don't know what time it is when I wake up. But I find Hayley's body in my bed. Her eyes are wide open and she's scrolling on her phone.

"Hayley, what are you doing?"  I ask her.

"I just didn't want to go to my bed alone tonight. Is there something wrong with that?" She asks. She's not under the covers at all, she's just laying there. I nod.

"I understand. Did you finish your paper?"

"Yeah, I did finish it. I'm revising it right now. Can you read it later today? Do you have to go to faux work?" I crack a smile.

"Yes. I do have to go to faux work today, but not until five. I'll read it when I wake up." She nods. I close my eyes and let my eyelashes flutter. I feel Hayley's eyes on my face and specifically on my lips. A part of me smirks and a part of me frowns because I'll never feel the same way about her.

In the morning I lay in bed and read Hayley's paper, making light marks on the sheet in red electronic marker. When I've finished I make us pancakes, and bacon and eggs. She devours the plate and washes the dishes while I shower. Once again I'm in shorts and a bra. She eyeballs me. I sigh.

"Hayley-"

"I know Jess. I know." I roll my eyes at her and walk away. I feel her eyes on my butt. I lay back in bed and look up into the ceiling fan spinning wildly above me. I close my eyes and sleep until work. Another day of explanation and being thrown to the wolves. I speak to more employees and get more information. Everyone seems like they're perfect. Which is what leads me to suspicion. So after everything closes up and is done I stay behind as a volunteer to scrub the coffee machines. Then I do some snooping. I slide into Mr. Russo's office and begin opening files. Standard things such as expenses, and food orders, and other things. I decide to go snooping into the books. I look closely at transactions, and compare them with the books. I slide my calculator from my pocket and do quick math. All together in this past year alone the Cafe has made 220 million dollars. Successful. Taxes come out. Normal. I check the percentage from Worthy Inc and check it against the numbers here. Normal. Sort of. I check the deductions. Specifically miscellaneous charges. Beneath these charges are detailed transactions for a new pool, a Maserati, twenty-five thousand dollars for "food expenses" although the food expenses has a category on its own. I decide to snoop into the computers. Mr. Russo writes down his passwords, so I get in easily and begin going through his files. I find all of the expenses and the list goes as follows.

1.) Gucci
2.) Prada
3.) Tommy Hilfiger

All of which has nothing to do with the expenses a Cafe should hold. I take pictures of everything I see, and forward it by email to Amaya. I put everything back the way I found it, log out of the computer, and scrub the coffee maker. Just so it looks as if nothing happened.

When I get home Hayley is asleep in her own bed, so I print out the emails and read them over again. I groan. The amount of money being spent on basics, and the amount of money being spent in miscellaneous charges simply aren't adding up. As I continue to check through the evidence I groan. I'm right as rain.  Mr. Russo has been skimming money off the top.