STARBUCKS (Part 1)
**Amanda**
Sundays. No alarm clocks. No need to get dressed. No stupid schedule sucking the joy out of life like a chastity belt. These were the simplicities Amanda lived for. Engage with spontaneity or surrender to laziness?
"Me choose lazy," Amanda whispered. With Winnie curled up on her stomach, she draped an arm over her eyes to block out the morning light. Although four days had passed since her lively video chat with Wattpad Headquarters, thoughts of Ian still invaded her head as her mind transitioned from sleepy to awake. Those eyes and smile. His gentleness and concern for my well-being. He was like a knight in shining--glasses--saving me from those nasty, evil computer bugs out to destroy my writing dreams.
"Stooooooop," Amanda drawled. "It's done. Over! It never even started. You're being--dumb."
Rubbing her eyes with fisted hands, Amanda yawned and stretched her body horizontally like a cat. She sat up in bed and scanned the landscape of her studio condo. Dirty dishes still piled in the sink--just higher. Laundry still overflowed in the hamper--just more so. Garbage stacked above the can's rim. A box of donation items sat in the corner waiting--for the last four months--to be donated. Bathroom half painted. Clutter, also known as the I'm-not-quite-sure-what-to-do-with-this crap--scattered here, there and everywhere. A dusty vacuum positioned quietly in a corner like a precious heirloom never to be touched--only looked at.
Amanda's scan stopped in the kitchen where Winnie sat by her empty bowl, squinting as though plotting something criminal. "I'm coming," Amanda called.
Sliding out of bed, Amanda snatched a 'To Do' list off her dresser and trudged towards the hungry feline. With a curled lip and load of anti-enthusiasm, she stared at the checklist. The bullet point items seemed to multiply before her eyes on the paper. It was as if Santa dropped his naughty list on her dresser and the little shits kept popping up like flies--on shit.
"Why isn't anything crossed off?" Amanda mumbled. She filled Winnie's bowl with a scoop of dried cat food and glanced at the list again. Is there anything that would take--ten seconds to do?
Tossing the paper over her shoulder, Amanda sighed. "Screw it. I need to write my story. Getting my ideas and creativity out into the world is more important than--." She slapped her hands together in mid-air, trapping a fruit fly between her palms as though training to be the next karate kid. "Maybe I should take the garbage out."
After the garbage was dumped and a load of laundry put in the washer, Amanda gathered her laptop and purse to search for a less chaotic writing environment. Naturally--like many Seattleites--she ended up at a Starbucks.
It was on Sunday afternoons at Starbucks when Amanda found herself wishing CIA Black Ops training was on her resume. Nevertheless, she'd acquired some mad special agent skills over the years on her own. When a prime table at a busy coffee shop needed to be conquered or a parking spot at the mall required claiming--there was no better person for the job than her.
Amanda's military-style Starbucks strategy looked something like this:
First: she scanned for plugins. Second: she focused on the large group table in the lounge, followed by square and rectangle tables for smaller groups. If she was desperate, she glanced towards the seats at the bar. Only after setting her radar on one of the former options would she consider a bullshit-mini-round table. Those geometric nightmares weren't made for the convenience and comfort of a drink-food-laptop combo. Third: Amanda watched people's hands as though they were mutated, five-legged mice and she was a starving vulture. If the creepy finger rodents reached for empty Starbucks containers or put away personal items, she swooped in for the kill. Fourth: positioning.
A laptop bag hung over Amanda's shoulder as she stood between the counter where baristas prepared drinks and the tables where customers sat to relax. It's all about the positioning, baby, she thought to herself. It's all about the positioning.
Amanda side-eyed a man wearing an X-Box polo shirt and khaki pants standing by the counter, a drink with a million instructions written on the side of the cup in his hand. Enemy target has been spotted. She immediately surveyed the tables for any signs of cleanup and garbage disposal.
Her heart jumped. Movement. Chai Tea Lady. End of large table. Plugin is within cord reach. Garbage being collected. Cell phone returned to purse. It's a go! Engage. It's a go!
X-Box Polo Man took a step forward. Amanda casually shifted her weight to block his path, then nonchalantly proceeded towards the table. She glanced around the restaurant as though looking for someone or something. I will fucking break you if you go near that seat, X-Box, she warned with her thoughts.
Unfortunately, X-Box didn't receive her telepathic message--or he simply didn't care. In any case, a pair of khakis advanced towards Chai Tea's seat at the end of the giant table for twelve. X-Box walked along one side, Amanda on the other. Their pace increased, both swooping in fast to make the kill. It would be, without a doubt, a photo finish.
The moment Chai Tea lifted her belongings off the chair, Amanda threw her laptop bag on the table as X-Box placed his cup near the empty seat. It wasn't until this moment when eye contact was made between the two predators.
Amanda inhaled her most Oscar-worthy fake gasp as the two strangers exchanged expressions of bewilderment. Furrowing her brows to give her puppy dog eyes a more sympathetic punch, Amanda said, "Sorry! I didn't--."
"I had no idea you were--," the man interrupted. Amanda's hand gripped the handles of her laptop bag--still resting on the table. X-Box's hand clung to his Grande paper cup--still resting on the table. Emerald City's apologetic game of passive aggressiveness had begun and X-Box appeared to be level--advanced.
"I'm so embarrassed, I didn't even see you," Amanda replied with the voice of a school girl, a subtle giggle trailing behind her words.
"I wasn't paying attention either," the man explained. "I must've assumed you were going to order something first."
Oh, fuck you, asshole, she thought. Game. On.
What Amanda did next was a chancy move, but there were just enough customers watching to make it worth the risk. With head tilted to the side and shoulders slightly raised, Amanda looked up at X-Box with a shy grin. "Take it. Maybe you were here first. I'm not sure."
X-Box stared at Amanda for a second. It seemed as though his thoughts struggled between taking the seat or surrendering to Seattle's culture of courteousness. When his eyebrows twitched twice, Amanda knew he was likely realizing his misstep--waiting too long to publicly offer a display of generosity. "No--take it," he eventually said. "I don't know who was first."
"Are you sure?" Amanda batted her eyelashes to appear surprised by his offer.
X-Box forced his lips into an almost convincing smile. "I'm sure." He nodded and walked back towards the Starbucks lobby where the vultures hovered.
Amanda unpacked her laptop and settled into the hard-earned chair. And THAT is how you Seattle.
With a Word document open containing her latest novel, Amanda stared lifelessly at the screen as though trying to decode an alien language--her attention scattered everywhere except on her story. She wondered why the middle-aged man sitting across from her with the maple pecan muffin was reading a book titled What Your Poo Is Telling You. She wondered if the lady next to her tapping her drink with orange painted nails was the reason why the scent of pumpkin spice hung so heavily in the air. She also wondered if the guy next to Muffin Man actually enjoyed the organic, vegan, gluten-free, no sugar, blob of whatever he was eating. Amanda's head pondered many, many things except the one thing she needed to focus on--the next sentence of her story.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, she growled inside her head as her thoughts floated off in every direction like helium balloons. Unfortunately, this balloon release wasn't a colorful display kicking off a new beginning. When the strings tied to Amanda's thoughts got beyond her reach, her life fell into chaos. And when her life fell into a state of chaos, her mind could only--
"Solitaire." Amanda opened a solitaire program on her laptop and proceeded to sort numbers and colors. Although she generally despised rules and the limited borders of logic, there was something about solitaire that grounded her. The sequencing. The simplicity. The calculating. The data processing.
"Data," Amanda whispered. "That must be his nickname."
Minimizing her solitaire game, Amanda logged onto Wattpad and searched for Ian's profile. Her heart raced as she scanned the images for his avatar pic. There you are.
Amanda clicked on Ian's picture and scanned the contents of his bio. Double Stuf Oreos! And--. She paused to let her Oreo excitement simmer down a few notches as she read the final bullet point on Ian's list. Why are they always hikers? Every single one of them.
Typing Ian's name into Google, Amanda searched for links and images that might shed more light on the object of her crushing. Are you married with kids? Do you have a girlfriend--or boyfriend? How old are you, she wondered.
Amanda's search provided some insight into Ian's personality, but nothing that answered the important questions--such as availability and availability. What she found was a few of his thoughts posted in a Star Wars forum, an image with a dragon boat team and a fifth-place finish at an amateur ping pong tournament in Toronto.
[[Jeannie] Hey! You're online!]
[[Jeannie] Wattdrunk Friday wasn't the same without you]
[[Jeannie] I hope you're feeling better]
Amanda hated lying to her friends, but she knew if she Wattdrunked on Friday she'd have to rehash the video chat debacle. Considering a boob popped out and bottles of wine were involved, it was sure to be a topic of conversation.
[[Amanda] I feel much better]
[[Amanda] Thank you for asking]
[[Amanda] I'm at Starbucks right now]
[[Amanda] Working on my story--The Storyteller]
[[Jeannie] I'm so glad to hear that!]
[[Jeannie] I was worried you might be cyber stalking that engineer]
[[Jeannie] Can't wait to read what you've written!]
Amanda's fingers hovered over the keyboard. She glanced at several windows open on her screen displaying random information about Ian.
[[Amanda] Hahaha! You're funny]
[[Amanda] Why would you be worried I'm stalking that--Wattpad person?]
[[Jeannie] He works in tech]
[[Jeannie] He might have the ability to know who checks out his profile page]
[[Jeannie] How humiliating would that be?]
Amanda slammed her laptop shut and shoved it across the table, knocking Muffin Man's half eaten maple pecan on the floor.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top