Dewey looked up at the new barista in his favorite Starbucks, and noted with appreciation her slender hips, her cute face, and the gorgeous auburn hair spilling down her back and shoulders. He noticed her the last two times he’d been here, but was too afraid to approach her. He wanted to ask her out. What to do? He thought for a second.
His older brothers, Huey and Louie, always told him, “Either dazzle them with brilliance or baffle them with bullshit, man.”
Nodding to himself, Dewey stared into her pale green eyes, walked forward, and stood before the pretty young woman. She looked to be about his age — 19.
She glanced up, smiled, and asked, “Yes, how can I help you?”
Dewey’s mind spun. Brilliance or bullshit? he wondered wildly, momentarily at a loss. Then he gave it to her with both barrels: “The Double Ristretto Venti Half-Soy Nonfat Decaf Organic Chocolate Brownie Iced Vanilla Double-Shot Gingerbread Frappuccino Extra Hot With Foam Whipped Cream Upside Down double blended, one Sweet’N Low, one Nutrasweet, and ice.” He gasped for breath.
She stared at him blankly for a moment, then blinked. “Would you like a cookie with that?” she asked.
He shook his head no and she went about the process of preparing his Frankenstein drink.
Dewey scowled. That hadn’t gone well. she took it in her stride, and now he was on the hook for an expensive libation.
After some minutes, the cute barista set the drink atop the counter and said, “$149.99, please.”
It was Dewey’s turn to stare blankly and blink. “Put it on my card,” he muttered, pushing his debit card forward.
His Visa, of course, was stretched beyond its limit. She told him so. He hung his head. Now, there was a crowd growing at the busy coffee shop. Deprived of their caffeine, they were turning ugly.
“C’mon, move the line,” someone behind Dewey groused.
“He ordered some freakin’ bogus drink and now can’t pay for it,” hissed another.
“Deadbeat!” seethed a third.
Feeling beleaguered and outnumbered, Dewey went for broke. “Could I…uh…have your number?”
She surprised him and smiled. “Are you asking me out?”
He smiled too. “Uh huh. I’m Dewey,” he said.
“I’m Ellison,” she confessed.
“I know, I read it on your name tag.” They both tittered.
“C’mon, get a room!” someone in line barked. “I want my latte!”
Ellison scratched out her number on a paper napkin and handed it over.
“I’ll call you, Ellison,” he promised, shoving the napkin in his pocket and turning away. That went well, he thought, smiling.
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