By Josh Aterovis
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When I got back to the room this time, Foster was there -- alone for a change. “Hey Jake,” he welcomed me. “Want a beer? ” “Want something harder? ” “No, I'm fine,” I said quickly, cutting him off. ” He blinked stupidly at me, as if I'd just told him I was an alien from Uranus. ” he repeated. ” I laughed. ” There was going to be no avoiding this one. Foster was as tenacious as a pit bull. “I'm a recovering addict,” I told him bluntly. He blinked at me again. ” I asked, making an effort to keep my tone light.
Be cool and nonchalant. I grabbed a cup and filled it with Columbian, add sugar and cream, of course, and headed towards his table again. He had a far away expression on his face, and I was loathe to interrupt his silence. So I chickened out. I went back behind the counter and tried to forget he was there. I hid in the manager's office praying the bell didn't ring because if I had to go out there and attempt to be graceful I just knew it would end in someone's death! Of course, the bell did ring and I looked out to see Max and Marla back from lunch.
Oh shit, he means me! “Um, yeah,” I responded after what must have been a delay of about a millennia. He ordered a double cappuccino with whipped cream, telling me it had been recommended to him. I don't think I can bear to see him with a whipped cream moustache! I tried to move efficiently behind the counter, but I had turned into a klutz in mere seconds. First I dropped the cup, but thankfully it didn't break. Then I aimed three times -- three freaking times -- for the button to dispense the highly caffeinated drink before finally hitting the mark.