The trees were changing colors but Samantha remained pale. Pale wasn't a bad thing, unless you were a twenty one year old in college, submerged in a sea of baked bronze blondes. These girls stood out at parties and acted the part of the airhead, the innocent, and the bimbo. It was hard to pull off that act when you were dressed in black from head to toe like Samantha.
Every weekend there was a party, the locations changed and so did the couplings. The party for that night had been thrown at the house of a friend of a friend in Samantha's Spanish class. It had started out good, with a live band and plenty of booze to spread around. By 4am, the party had slowed down, and Samantha had to be in work by quarter to six to get started on the morning's first pot of coffee. She swore this would never happen again, like every college student does after a night of too much drinking.
Laying on the floor of the old house, staring at the ceiling, her dark brown hair falling into her eyes, trying not to be sick, Samantha told her self over and over that she wouldn't even look at alcohol again. Megan and Marcy had left her there as they went off in dimly lit bedrooms to be felt up and probed by overzealous animal like college boys. And the only guy there who she had even remotely thinking of blowing, had passed out an hour ago.
By the time Samantha was ready to head home, darkness was around, but she knew she had to get to work, because she would be the only one there for the first two hours of the morning shift. Saturdays were never busy, all the college kids were asleep and the nearby businesses didn't even open until noon. However, she knew the seven hour shift she had ahead of her would be a killer.
She was still a bit drunk, and hoped that she didn't smell too much like cheap beer. She sprayed on some perfume, straightened her hair, and hoped for the best.
Every Saturday Phillip Monrose came in at exactly quarter after six to grab a cup of coffee before he headed to work at his law office. He parked his shiny red convertible sports car in front of Karma Coffee, not caring that he was in a no parking zone. He chain smoked as he waited in line, ignoring the huge red signs which proclaimed "Smoke free environment".
He ran his hands over the collar of his freshly ironed cornflower blue polo shirt. The girl behind the counter wasn't wearing the typical white shirt and black pants that was the uniform . She had on some tight dark jeans which were so low he couldn't help but stare, and a faded black t-shirt with a band on it that he had never heard of. Her belly button was showing and her long dark brown hair was down and it hit the middle of her back. Phillip grimaced, knowing the girl should have had it pulled back. It disgusted him. He placed his sunglasses down on the counter, but she didn't turn around. He glanced at the board with the specials, but he knew exactly what he wanted. He was growing impatient and he didn't have time for this. Time was money for Phillip. He slapped his hand down on the counter, and the girl spun around, startled.
"What can I get you?" the girl said, her icy blue eyes looking him up and down. "the usual?" She had forgotten about the tall, thin, lawyer with the beamer and how every Saturday he was there, bright and early. She looked down at his black sunglasses, which probably cost as much as she would make in a month at the coffee shop. She fought the urge to roll her eyes.
"yes, low fat milk. I hope you remember this time."
Samantha smiled. Thanks for the reminder asshole. Of course I remember, it's the only damn thing you ever order. She quickly fixed the drink and slammed the cup onto the counter, a little harder than she meant to. The coffee cascaded in an even flow onto the blue shirt, with smaller drips staining the front of his light khakis.
Samantha's eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry."
"You fucking little bitch, you threw hot coffee at me. You are lucky I'm not going to sue your ass and this shitty little mediocre coffee shop. He said as he shook his finger at her. He swiped some napkins from the counter and began patting his pants in an over dramatic fashion.
"Ruined!" he hissed. "fuckin ruined!"
"Listen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident."
"Do you know how much this shirt and these pants cost?"
"No, I..."
"I didn't think so." He began mumbling something under his breath.
He turned and made his way to the back of the shop. Samantha stood at the counter, unsure of what to do. She ran into the back, and pushed the door of the mens room open.
