the Poplar and the Gothic

7.

~ Never close the door with your ass. - my surroundings. ~

Dexter Ryan finally decided to wake up instead of hitting the snooze button eighth time in a row. The first one was set at exactly 6am, the second at 6.10am and so on. It's 7.10am now, which means he'll have to get to work in 20 minutes. Like every morning, this morning he also relied on the help of higher powers, among whom was God. They never helped much and he was aware of it, but how could he get up early when last night's last-minute party was inevitable? Besides he had fun. It's a shame he doesn't remember anything. With a severe headache, he got up, picked his clothes and headed to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and washed his face with ice cold water, hoping that the water will cure the headache. Nothing. Only empty hopes.
He quickly pulled on his jeans from yesterday and a white T-shirt with the green Starbucks logo where he worked. He ran down the stairs and took his bad and sneakers. As he got ready to step outside, he felt proud of himself because he passed through the house unnoticed. He smiled lazily, squeezed the door handle and...
"I didn't know you came home at all." A well-known voice came from behind. Dexter rolled his eyes and slowly turned around.
"... and I don't know how I got here." He was completely honest and didn't run away from his actions, though he knew it would be better if he didn't act at all.
His mother laughed and took a sip of her morning sugar-free coffee. He eagerly began tapping his right foot, aware of being late. Ideas about letting his mom know that he couldn't talk now were flowing through his head.
"You're late for work." As soon as she said that, he jumped towards her and kissed her on the cheek, then ran to the door and slammed it behind him.
The lazy smile of pride for stealthily leaving the house disappered from his face but the vertical lines between his eyebrows became deeper. He had only 11 minutes to get to work and the red traffic light was on. Good thing he rode the scooter, a car or - worse - a bus would never arrive to his destination.
After a couple of streets south he turned right and came to the main square in Vienna. He made his way to the back door of the coffee shop, parked his scooter and run inside. He put his apron around his waist and finally made it to the counter.
"Good job! Congrats!"
"For being so fast?"
"No, for ability to be late every day." His coworker corrected him.
They never liked each other and Dexter never wanted to work with her. For his notions - she was too serious and responsible. They never talked much. Both of them just did their job and didn't want to make friends.
The big brown clock in the shop was showing 7.32 and Dexter was even surprised by his record - he was only two minutes late! It doesn't happen often.
The first customers began to enter the shop and Dexter tried to be as nice and smiling as he was every day. The new costumers liked him and the everyday ones liked that he took their orders. Today was a little worse than usual. He was smiling but the nice little jokes and various compliments didn't come to his mind.
God, what a disgusting beer was it last night. It was the most common thought this morning. He turned around a couple of times, made a few coffees and issued a few bills for it. He felt like an eternity had passed, but it had only beem 15 minutes. This means that his brother will soon step into the bar.
So he did.
Dalton Forest, a tall and distinguished 34-year-old casually walked into the cafe and stood in a row on the other side of the counter where Dexter was handling coffee and milshakes. With a phone in one and a briefcase in the other hand, he looked just as a businessman as he was. His perfectly ironed tuxedo was just one of the countless differences between him and Dexter. But Dexter didn't care.
"Hello. How can I help you?" Dexter smiled as he had smiled to every other client.
"Black coffee, please," Dalton replied, removing the phone from his ear to make it look a little more polite as he ordered. As soon as he made his order, he put the phone back on continued to talk.
Besides from the caffee shop and his job, Dexter was furious at his brother. The good thing is that Dalton doesn't live with his family anymore and that they only see each other at Starbucks. Ever since he moved out, their already poor communication had dropped to zero. Dexter didn't mind the least and Dalton didn't seem to be paying attention either. Each time he saw him, Dexter remembered a series of events related to their relationship. He was too busy surviving his headache today to be spinning back the same old movies in his head. He silently shoved the ordered coffee down the counter and turned to continue his daily work.
"Wait, Dex."
Dex? He called me Dex?
The skinny waiter turned to his brother and leaned lazily on the counter.
"What is it?" He asked wearily. No part of him was curious to hear what his brother wanted to say, but he still gave him a moment of attention.
"Do you have time after work? I have a bid for you... And I want to talk to you." He said, not deviating from his narcissistic attitude. Dexter was already very annoyed.
"I don't need your bids or suggestions. You haven't listened to any of mine. Why would I want to listen to yours?" He said rising from the counter where his elbows were resting. "You can go." He put on a strange sweet smile and gently slammed the counter with his fist. Then he lazily - visibly proud of himself - stepped up to another counter where he had to take orders.
"Oh, good morning, ma'am! Same as yesterday?" He said with a wide smile.
Pride for that casual You can go sentence and the victory in a little "pride battle" erased his headache as if it had never been present.