My Bad Boy

Chapter two

I grip the handlebars tighter and make a left turn. There was a Café close to the college that was hiring and I decided earlier today that I should give it a try.

I could balance my classes and get money to help my with whatever she needed.

Because the fact is:

Real men get money from labor.

Not drugs.

I pull into the parking spot that is empty and I turn off my motorcycle without thinking about it. I take off my helmet and I run my hands through my black hair, hoping it looked somewhat decent.

I swing a leg over the side and I sit my helmet on the back of my bike. I knew no one was going to touch it because I had a reputation around here for getting in fights and defending what was mine.

The Café looked like a knock off Starbucks, but bigger. A lot of college kids came here with their laptops and notebooks and would finish any work they had from class. It was full of wanna be hipsters and losers hoping to make it as writers.

It wasn’t really my kind of hangout, but when you needed a job, you would take anything the world threw at you.  It could have been worse.

A little ding rings out when I open the door and the smell of grounded coffee hits me hard when I step in. I absolutely hated the smell of coffee.

Some kids my age were already set up at some round tables by the windows and others were sitting at the booths to my right, laughing and hanging out. One girl even has a feather hanging from her hair.

I see a slim redhead at the counter, running a towel over a napkin dispenser. Her hair is the kind of red that doesn’t come from a box and was up in a high ponytail. She looked probably two years older than me but that didn’t mean anything.

She has on the black issued uniform that anyone working here wears and a little blue name tag over her breast pocket stands out in contrast.

I weave my way around tables and when I get close enough to see her name, I smile and try it out real quick.

Becca.

Not too bad, actually.

She is so busy cleaning that she doesn’t hear or see me come up. I smile and I set my hand on the napkin dispenser, blocking her exceptional cleaning.

She looks up quickly, shocked, and when her green eyes meet mine, they seem to widen a little.

She fumbles with the napkins and ends up dropping them all over the place. They fall to the ground and she curses under her breath a little, a pink flush blossoming her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” She says as the napkins fall to the floor on my side of the counter. She backs up, about to come over, but I hold my hand up to stop her.

“I got it.”

I give her a little smile and  bend down to pick them up. While I am busy, I analyze what kind of girl she might be.

Bitchy? No, so being rude won’t work on her.

Easy? My eyes lift to her and I see her running a hand over the counter nervously, a worried look on her face.  I shake my head, getting rid of that idea.

If she was she would have more confidence. That leaves my next option open.

Sweet.

That meant she would want to hear what she likes to hear.  She liked to be told the truth and sob stories were your way in.

This was going to be pretty easy if I say so myself.

I hand her the napkins and she smiles gracefully and she starts to shove them back into the dispenser. I watch her for a while and then I clear my throat, getting her attention. When she looks up, I nod my head to the window.

“I heard you guys were looking for someone to hire.”

She looks over at the sign too and her head nods fast. Some of her red hair escapes her ponytail and she swipes it back without bothering to look.

“Yeah, the manager is on vacation and I took her place for a while. Do you have any experience with people or with making coffee?”

I lean against the counter and seem to think about the question. Coffee? No. People? Depends on what she means by ‘Experience.’

“Look,” I say, deciding to just tell the chick the truth. What was the point in lying? She seemed like the type to care and consider things, so maybe for once not trying to play a girl could work to my benefit.

“I have no idea how to do ... any of this,”

I finger what I think is a salt shaker, but the label reads vanilla. Do white people actually like this stuff? Seriously?

“I just really need a job right now.” I don’t elaborate on why I need the job because it wasn’t a need to know kind of thing.

She looks up at me and sucks on her bottom lip. I can literally see the thoughts running through her head. I had to admit, the girl was cute, but she was someone that I could never see myself taking advantage of.

Sweet wasn’t really my type.

She lets out her breath.

“How about I let you try out tonight and if you do a good job, then I will hire you? Sound good?” I slap my hand on the counter and give her my best smile.

“When can I start?”

She gets out a piece of paper with the schedule and squints at it. The little ding goes off on the door and she looks up to see who it is and then goes back to looking at the paper.

“Come around 9 and you can stay till closing which is 12. Is that okay?” Her green eyes meet mine and I nod, more than relieved.

I turn around to leave and I look over my shoulder to see her putting the papers back under the counter. She wipes her hands on her uniform and she goes to turn to the customer when I call out to her.

“By the way, I like the red.” I twirl a piece of my hair, indicating her hair, and she blushes a little and turns back to the costumers.

I laugh under my breath and head out the door. I see my motorcycle and I reach for the key in my back pocket, nerves suddenly making there way to the surface.

Tonight at nine I’ll be starting my first job ever.

Can you say dios mio?!