I stare down at the GPS for a moment and sigh out loud. Not to anyone in particular, but just out of frustration. It's been a long day--I think I have the right.
One more mile.
This marks what seems like forever driving on the iciest road known to man, pathetically attempting to make it to the nearest city so that I could get my mind clear. To top it off, I was driving Nurse Jackie’s car, since she lent it to me for the afternoon, making my already awful driving worse. I'm definitely not used to the brakes or the reaction time in the pedals. I probably could have walked here faster--it certainly would have been safer--for everyone.
I wish I had my driver. I miss my life.
“Destination. Ahead. On the Left.”
“Finally!” I smirk, this giddyness feeling washing over me that I haven't felt in forever. I've never been this happy to be somewhere, even if it is a snowy ass town in Canada.
I finally start to see the lights of the city donning stores and restaurants. It wasn’t like a normal city where you slowly drove through a residential area, then hit the outskirts, and then to downtown. No, Canada has to go and be all kinds of different. Everything is all together. In once place. Why, I have no idea.
As I continue my ascent into the city, I see a little strip mall with a book store, a food shop, a donut shop...and ah, yes, my favorite--Starbucks!! God, how I’ve missed my grande drip with a double shot of vanilla and soy milk.
I didn't know Canada had Starbucks!
I carefully tug the wheel into the parking lot, trying not to shit a brick when the car started to skid on the black ice beneath the caked on snow of the pavement. Thank god there was one of those cement barriers there to stop me, or I might be buying Nurse Jackie a new car. Maybe I should buy her one anyway for being a good friend.
Friend?
As soon as I calm my nerves, I open the door to get out. The cold hits me like a ton of bricks, nearly knocking every ounce of air out of my chest, a mild cough emitting as a result. Shit, Canada is cold.
I grumble a little to myself again, something about JC and Trace and how I’m going to kill them the next time I see them, and instead pull my coat tighter around me and lower the beanie on my head, mostly to mask my identity, but also to protect my ears.
Did you know that you lose almost 80% of your body heat through your head? Or is that 40%? Fuck if I know. It’s a lot. I bet the percentage is higher in Canada. Anyway, it’s not like that many people would probably recognize me in rural Canada, but you never know. I didn’t think that about the people in Prague either, but boy was I sadly mistaken on that one (I lost a few shirts and some skin on that trip).
I shut the door to the tiny little toyota and shake my head. If TMZ could see me now. Freezing my ass off in Canada for sex rehab and driving a shitbox Toyota to the nearest ghetto town just for coffee and some sanity. I chuckle a little at the absurdity of it all before I hit the lock button, and wait for the double beeps of assurance before heading for the entrance.
Wouldn’t want anyone to steal the piece of shit. Eye roll.
As soon as I walk in, I’m hit by the wafted scent of ground coffee beans and the grinding noise of blenders, and it smells and sounds like pure heaven. I don't even care that my nose has practically frozen off of my face and should be devoid of any practical smelling function.
I smile, the fact that I’m in a Starbucks when nearly an hour ago I was tied to a table and recovering from being tranquilized makes me giddy. I stuff my hands in my pocket and glance up at the chalkboard menu, even though I already know what I want. I don't even bothering to take in my surroundings. I just want to revel in that small little chalkboard, the perfect sign of freedom.
I never understood why people look up at the Starbucks menu, come to think of it--I guess you want people to think that you’re not as predictable as you really are by putting on the guise that you’re actually considering your options, even though we all know that everyone, myself particularly, always gets the same thing. It’s rather absurd when you really think about it.
Anyway, all I really care about at this point is getting a cup of coffee and warming up my chilled body.
I finally take the few steps towards the counter and smile quietly at the male barista. I always get kind of shy in public settings, particularly in unfamiliar territory because I never really know what’s going to happen. And this may be bumfuck egypt, but I don’t have Tiny or Lonnie here to help me--and you just never know what can happen.
“How can I help you, sir?” he smiled warmly.
He was young--about twenty years old, at most. He looked pretty run of the mill--clean cut, dressed in the standard green Starbucks mock. I can’t quite tell by his smile whether or not he recognizes me. He could just be really polite, or he could be gay and flirting with me, or he could know who I am. I hate it when I can’t tell. It makes me feel on edge.
“Uh...Grande drip with a double shot of vanilla with soy milk, please,” I finish hurriedly, starting to feel uncomfortable as I reach into my back pocket to grab my wallet. Unfortunately, my clumsy ass drops it in doing so. “Fuck...”
As soon as I bend down to retrieve it, my head bumps into something hard and solid, and I immediately reach for my head where the collision occurred. I stand up rapidly, the blood rushing to my head, and I try not to pass out. My body has just been through way too much trauma in the past day.
I finally get my bearings and open my eyes, seeing another person still huddled on the floor, hands over their head as well.
Shit. It was a person...
I didn’t even realize there was anyone standing behind me in line. That goes to show you how much I pay attention.
“Ouch,” a soft feminine voice mumbled, and I’m shaken from my reverie. I couldn’t tell at first whether it was a girl or a guy by the way she was slumped over, as her jacket was covering her body and her hat was covering any semblance of hair she might have. But now I’m definitely sure it’s a female.
I open my mouth to say something, but instead decide to reach my hand out.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” I whisper quietly, helping her to her feet.
As soon as she stands upright, my eyes catch the most beautiful creature I think I’ve ever laid eyes on. Ever. I mean, she has to be a direct descendant of God, or at least an angel. I just can’t take my eyes off of her, let alone utter a single word.
What is wrong with you, Timberlake? You’ve seen millions of girls in your lifetime. You’ve dated the most powerful and gorgeous women in the world, and fucked everyone else. She’s no different...
I can feel my heart starting to thump loudly in my chest, and my throat starts constricting as I attempt to move my mouth again to apologize for my retardedness. She, unfortunately, beat me to the punch.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, laughing a little. “Didn’t mean to do that. I just...thought I’d pick that up for you...”
God, she had the most angelic laugh I’ve ever heard. It was like a soft choir, singing the most gorgeous hymnal on Sunday morning as the sun rises over the earth.
What? Are you fucking serious? You sound like such a fucking pussy right now. A soft choir? Have you been watching too many chick flicks with Lance lately? Seriously....
“I...uh....it’s. It’s okay,” I nodded, finally getting my voice back. “It’s my fault, I should have looked where I was going...”
I can’t remember the last time a girl made me speechless.
“No, it’s my fault. I kinda snuck up over here,” she laughed again.
God, her laugh makes me hard. So hard. Yet I somehow feel dirty for thinking that.
“Please. Let me buy your coffee, you know--for the headache.” I can’t help but laugh at my own pun, feeling extraordinarly cheesy today for no apparent reason. Maybe it's the angel. Maybe it's the coffee. The reason has yet to be determined.
She rolled her eyes in a playful response and smiles. “Guess I can’t turn down free coffee in this recession.”
“What would you like?” I asked, gently.
“Uh...I don’t know,” she smiled. I watched her stare up at the blackboard like I had just done, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself.
“You don’t know? Come on...everyone knows. Everyone walks in here, they stare up at the board as if they are contemplating something different and unique, and then they get what they always get. It’s a Starbucks science,” I finish, confident in my theory.
“Well, actually--I don’t. I never get the same thing,” she replied. She didn’t even look back at me, her eyes fixated instead on her choices above.
“What? How can you not get the same thing? Like you don’t get the same thing at Starbucks, or you don’t get the same thing at like...anywhere...?” I ask, incredulously. This girl cannot be serious.
“I don’t get the same thing. Ever,” she smiled.
“Humanly impossible.”
“It’s not,” she replied, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth slightly with her teeth, obviously deep in contemplation.
“Why not?” I ask, still baffled.
“Some people like monotony. I don’t,” she finished. She didn’t seem like much of a talker. I had to break her. Every girl talks to me. I’m Justin Timberlake, American God to females everywhere.
“Having a favorite coffee is not monotonous,” I scoff, shoving my hands deeper into my pockets.
“Sure it is,” she finished again. God, what is it with her and her non-explanations?
“That’s not an answer,” I reply again, feeling myself de-elevate to a second grade level rapidly.
“Yes it is.” Okay, now she was starting to piss me off.
“No, it’s not.”
“Pretty sure it is.”
“Pretty sure it’s not.”
“What are you? Five?”
“What are you? Two?”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Are you going to copy me now?”
“I thought about it. But you’re not that original, so copying you would continue the monotony in my life, and that is so boring,” she finished.
UGH!
“How do you know I’m not original?” I asked, quietly--contemplating how a woman like that can just "know me" without even knowing me.
“I can just tell...” she finished.
She can just tell. Right.
“How?” I asked, completely incredulous and cautious of her tactics.
“Just can,” she was still staring up at the chalkboard. I was not getting anywhere with her. Seriously...what is her deal?
Finally, I decide to ask her about this strange anti-monotony thing of hers. I have to know.
“What monotony?”
“You know...” she trailed. Her arms were across her chest, and she was rocking slightly on the balls of her feet. I could see her taking in all of her options, and I just sighed.
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked. I don’t meet many people that consider the world monotonous.”
“Seriously. Have you looked around? This is hell. Frozen. You have limited choices here, so you might as well explore all of your options to maximize your experiences. That’s what life’s about anyway....” she finished.
I stood there, speechless. She kind of has a point. A small one.
“If you don’t like it, why are you here?” I asked, stating the obvious.
“Sometimes life isn’t that simple, is it? Anyway...I know what I want,” she stated, walking towards the counter and leaving me back a few feet where we had been somehwat “conversing.” She was so hard to crack. “Could I get the flourless brownie and a Venti caramel machiado with a shot of espresso, a touch of hazlenut, soy milk, and no whip please.”
What??
“Are you from LA?” I ask, disbelivingly shocked at her order.
She laughed. A little too loudly, and a little too long for my taste. Was she making fun of me?
“Do I look like a bitch?” she asked with a laugh. My face drops.
“Well...now that you mention it...” I trail off, being half serious, but half playful so that she didn’t bite my head off. You never know with girls like her.
Girls like her? I’ve never met a girl like her.
“Hey...don’t take it out on me because I tried to pick up your wallet out of the kindness of my heart, and then you challenge me on my coffee selection because you like monotony and I don’t. You’re the one with the problem, not me, bud.”
“I do not have a problem. I was just....” God, she is so fucking frustrating!! Hot one minute, cold the next. I run a hand over my face with a sigh. “You know what, it doesn’t matter...” I whisper, defeated.
She just laughed.
“What?” I asked, a pout clearly adorning my face.
“You’re just funny, that’s all,” she smiled. “You gonna pay for my coffee or what, moneybags?”
“Moneybags, huh? Are you a gold digger? You sure you’re not from LA?” I ask again, smiling a little again as I hand my credit card over to the cashier who is watching us in part anger, part intrigue.
“No...are you?”
She just laughs again. God, if she weren’t so angering, I would pick her up and spin her around--maybe even lay her down on this counter and have my way with her. She is seriously the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, even if she is a brat.
“You offered. Can’t go back on your word now,” she smiled again. “Unless you’re not a gentleman...”
“God, you women,” I sighed playfully, waiting for him to hand me back my card. “Thanks.”
“Pretty sure I’m the only woman in here, thank you very much. Actually,” she paused, looking around, “looks like we’re the only two in here.”
Hmm. I hadn’t noticed.
“Guess that means you’re stuck with my coffee company,” I smiled.
“Hardly,” she scoffed playfully. “Just ‘cause you bought me coffee doesn’t mean I need to sit here and drink it with you.”
“Yeah, but if you didn’t, you would not only be incredibly rude, but you would also be continuing the monotony. I’m probably the most interesting thing to walk into your Starbucks experience in years. I’d say that means you should sit down and drink with me,” I smile triumphantly, turning on the charm.
“Well....when you put it that way,” she smiled, rolling her eyes a little and she laughs. “I guess...” she drawls out.
“Well...I guess I have a point,” I laughed, almost shocked that she agreed with me this time.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name before...you know, head collision and all,” she offered.
Wait...she really doesn’t know me? I figured she was giving me a hard time because of who I was. This is an entirely different ball game, then.
“Uh...” I pause, slightly taken aback. I am so not used to this. “Justin,” I smile. “And you?”
“Cadence.”
“Cadence?” I smile a little. “Like the musical cadence?”
“Something like that,” she laughed, a slow red creeping up her beautiful facial features.
“Wow...that’s. Beatiful. And one of the most interesting names I’ve heard in a long time.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“Grande drip and a Caramel Machiado!”
“Guess that’s us...” I offer, gently touching the small of her back to lead her over to the pick up area, to which she pulled away slightly. No woman ever pulls away from me. She is definitely shaping up to be the most intriguing woman to cross my path in...a long, long time. Possibly ever.
I definitely need to get to know this girl.
