Work Text:
5.30 am and the sun was dawning in St Louis. Rai, barista for Stern’s Coffee, sighed as she raised the blinds and flipped the sign to ‘Open’. A meow came from outside the door-- Hecate, the cafe’s adopted stray, had turned up for her breakfast. She threw a piece of old ham out to the orange tabby and looked out into the empty street. “Another day, another couple of dollars.” She muttered, looking down at her watch.
“Rai-- Danish?” The baker, Wraith, called. He was an interesting person-- tall, lanky and tattooed, with silver hair pinned up in a bun underneath a hairnet, and a nondescript black long-sleeved shirt under his uniform polo. From his kitchen, heavy metal blared-- Rai recognised the artist, but didn’t know the song. Wraith been a good support for Rai in her transition from medical scientist to ‘coffee artist’-- they started at the same time, and he was a good listener, if not much of a talker. Plus, every morning he would make her her favourite, a blueberry danish straight from the oven.
“Thank you,” she replied gratefully. “St Louis Breakfast?” Wraith nodded, and Rai set to work making two drinks, the tea and a large long black. She set them in front of two bar stools and surveyed the cafe. It looked like your usual coffee chain style cafe, decked out in blue and brown. Leaning against the counter, she tucked her long black ponytail into a blue baseball cap and readjusted her apron, taking the last few moments of peace to straighten her uniform. Wraith almost seemed to materialize behind her, holding two warm danishes. Rai laughed, “You almost scared me.” Wraith smiled and handed her a pastry, sitting down to enjoy his tea.
At exactly 5.50 am, the door clinked open. Startled-- nobody ever came in this early-- Rai darted around behind the counter. A young boy with slicked back hair and a cocky attitude walked in. He wore the brown polo of Stern’s Coffee with ironed black slacks and shoes, his apron was draped over his arm and he carried a leather satchel. Rai had to stifle a laugh, his uniform looked like it had never seen a day of coffee making.
“I’m looking for Jenny.” The boy said with a surprising amount of confidence, his chin tilting upwards at the end of his sentence.
“And if Jenny were here, who would she be talking to?” Rai asked with a hint of sarcasm, fiddling with a lock which had once been on the milk fridge.
“Asher Emerson Stern the Third. She’s expecting me.”
Rai nodded with a smirk, she had heard of this Asher Emerson Stern the Third, their new assistant manager at 18 years old, son of the CEO and founder of Stern’s Coffee. “I’ll, uh, go out back. See if I can find Jenny.” She replied, realising that Jenny was late for the first time in months. Putting the lock back onto the bench, Rai went to walk into the kitchen, hoping Jenny was there.
The doorbell chimed and a flushed Jenny ran into the cafe, blonde hair a mess and apron askew. Her face, usually bright and excited, looked worn out and streaked with sweat. “I’m so so sorry! The train got stuck on the tracks, there was an incident with a robbery and the cops were pulled up across the tracks and-”
Relieved, Rai passed Jenny a bottle of water, “Breathe, Jenny.” Rai said to her store manager, “Drink. You’re fine.”
“Hi Jenny, we spoke.” Asher began, his hand outstretched, ignoring Rai’s look of disapproval.
“Yes, yes.” Jenny replied absentmindedly, wiping water from her chin. “Asher, right?” She took his hand in a limp, sweaty shake.
“Yes. Is this the team?” He asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice as he looked at a flushed store manager who was meant to be the best and a disinterested barista who looked half asleep.
“Not quite— Bandaid!” Jenny called in greeting as Bandaid, a young medical student and three time Barista of the Year, skulked into the back. Bandaid had a habit of being consistently late and would spin fantastic stories, even though the whole crew knew he’d often fallen asleep at the library and missed his alarm. He stopped at the window to the kitchen and gave a guilty look and a wave in return. “Where were you?” Jenny asked, “You didn’t come home last night!”
“Don’t you wish you knew.” Bandaid winked, “Who’s pretty boy?- no offense.” He nudged Wraith who just rolled his eyes in return and tapped him with a wooden spoon.
“I’m Asher Emerson Stern the Third. Your new assistant manager. My family owns the Stern’s Coffee chain- including this store.”
Bandaid muttered under his breath, “I wish I hadn’t asked.” Wraith nodded in agreement, turning back to his cookies.
“Now, if we will be working together I would like to get to know you all.” Asher said, arms outstretched. Rai rolled her eyes; he sounded as if he’d learnt everything he knew about management from TED talks and motivational speeches.
Jenny took charge, much to everyone’s relief. “This is Bandaid,” she said, the man giving Asher a wave. “Wraith”, she pointed and Wraith stuck his head through the window to the rest of the cafe to nod a greeting.
He held a piping bag in his hand, pink icing leaking from the end. “Baking. Making pastries.” he said in an oddly gravelly, flat voice. Asher felt a small shiver run down his spine, friendly nod notwithstanding.
“O-kay.” Asher replied, elongating the syllables. “Apparently we use nicknames here. What’s yours?” He asked, pointing at Rai.
“Stingray,” She said, remembering a discussion with Wraith about her heavy metal name, “But my name’s Rai.”
“Okay, and everyone knows Jenny.”
“Lucky Jenny!” Bandaid exclaimed, doing finger guns at Jenny who laughed.
“Fine,” Asher sighed, “Lucky Jenny. Now, where are the customers?”
Rai gave him a look of disdain. “It’s 6.15. There’s no customers here until at least 6.30.”
“Never?” Asher questioned.
“Never.” As if anticipating his next question, Rai continued: “The merchandise is fully stocked. The milk fridge and grinders are full. The pastry fridge is almost full and I’ve made sure all the sales are up to date.”
“Relax,” Jenny interjected, giving Asher a comforting wave, “Would you like a coffee?”
Asher frowned, “I guess; if the majority of the work is done.” He shrugged, “A flat white, please.” The last word was forced; he didn’t appreciate being undermined, especially on his first day.
Bandaid stuck his head through the window, “Have I got the nickname for you— Ash-hole.” Rai and the rest of the team laughed loudly, repeating it under their breath.
Asher swore quietly and fixed Bandaid with a venomous glare that went blithely ignored. Collecting himself, he replied, “Ash-hole, I like it.” He took the drink that Rai handed him, pursing his lips as he took a careful sip. The team continued to joke around him, drinking coffee (a perk of working here) and filling the rest of the pastry cabinet. He sighed and looked at the clock again-- 6.30 couldn’t come soon enough.