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Chapter 1: A Good Cup of Coffee
There was a pounding in Barbara Gordon’s head that couldn’t be soothed by taking repeated, angry sips of her coffee, but that wasn’t going to stop her from doing so anyway. Customer service was Hell, and the woman who wanted a refund for a tablet that she had destroyed because she found her son playing Pokemon Go on it was sent by Satan himself to vex Ms. Gordon.
“I want to talk to the manager,” Babs mimicked the woman’s high and huffy tone, watching as the woman received the exact same speech from the manager that she herself had just given. Dinah presented calm, with her arms folded across her chest, but her eyes screamed murder. After only two minutes (as opposed to the fifteen spent with Barbara), the woman stomped away, still huffing.
“You need to teach me how to do that stare, Dinah,” Babs trilled as Dinah approached.
“Join a rock band. Break a guy’s wrist when he tries to grab your ass after a show. Repeat fifteen times.” Dinah sagged behind the counter where Barbara was standing. “If anyone asks, I’m in the bathroom.”
“You got it, D.”
Dinah was quiet as Babs rang up the next customer, some reporter from Metropolis.
“If you weren’t in college, Babs, I would have promoted you to manager already so I wouldn’t have to deal with those kind of whack jobs anymore.” Dinah took a sip of Babs’ coffee and glanced at the label. “Chiroptera Coffee? Couldn’t you just have gotten a cup at the Starbucks that is literally in this building for people like you?”
“I have standards, Dinah.”
“Tough luck,” Dinah said, chucking the empty coffee container into the trash. “If you want more coffee, I’ll let you take a break to get some at the Starbucks, but you’re not going to ‘Chiroptera Coffee’ wherever that is.”
“Dinah!” Babs’ not fully caffeinated brain groaned, standards be damned. “Starbucks is lucky that I have a test to study for today.”
“I’m doing you a favor! There’s a new barista and he is CUTE.”
“No cute guy is worth more than a cup of Chiroptera Coffee.”
“You haven’t seen him yet, Babs. Seeing is believing.”
Babs rolled her eyes. “If I like him more than I like coffee, I’ll give you twenty dollars.”
--
The green apron fit a little too tightly. Someone named Kori had been kind enough to knot it for him because he was struggling to tie it around his back, but the tightness was making it a difficult for Dick Grayson to breathe. The fact that he had almost been late for his first day at a new job because he had been trying to submit a paper for his law and ethics class certainly wasn’t helping. Who died and left Aristotle in charge of ethics? He had wondered to himself, frantically downing a bowl of Cookie Nuggets and typing something that sounded remotely coherent (so he hoped).
But Aristotle was the least of his worries. Why were there two different venti cups? Why was grande a larger size than tall? Why was the coffee line so long? The Greeks may have been plagued with questions about the meaning of life and right and wrong, but Dick doubted they ever had to deal with anything quite as frustrating as being the person who is between a caffeine-starved customer and their venti coffee with soy. Would Aristotle side with customer, filled with righteous fury, or the barista, slowly being suffocated by his apron and the deep desire to pay his rent?
These were the thoughts that plagued Dick as he mindlessly smiled at customers and took their orders. Elderly men gave him curt nods of thanks and settled with their coffee and newspapers at the tables nearby, grumbling about the state of Gotham and the nation as a whole. Some customers complained about the weather and how they couldn’t believe that summer was over already. Dick smiled and empathized with customers, putting on his best show face. He’d been raised in a circus, so of course he’d had plenty of time to practice his facial expressions for the show. And really, customer service was much more show than service.
“Have you had a difficult first day?” Kori asked once the line had died off.
“Could have been worse. The hat could have been too tight.” He tried to ignore the tightness of the apron. Maybe he could ask her to adjust it for him?
“They do not get easier. People before their coffee are the worst.” Dick noticed that her speech was very formal and that there was an accent in her voice that he couldn’t quite place. “And sometimes they do not tip or say ‘thank you!’ They are capable of great rudeness.”
Just as he was about to ask Kori to loosen his apron for him, he caught sight of Her. She marched purposefully towards the counter, tossing her long red hair in her wake. There was a confidence to her, and she walked like she was ready to kill a man for looking at her wrong.
And then she saw him. Her eyebrows furrowed, then her eyes and mouth opened wide in shock, then her eyebrows furrowed again, her fists clenching upon recognizing him. And he was in too much shock to speak. He hadn’t expected to see her here, in Burnside, of all of the neighborhoods in Gotham, and all of the bookstores that she could have been in, it had to be this one. And not just shopping! Dick noticed the name tag indicating that Barbara Gordon was an assistant manager at this Barnes and Noble, where Dick was now employed.
He had so many things he wanted to say. I’m sorry about your mom, I heard about the accident, and of course, he still wanted to explain - no - cry to her about what had happened with Catalina. He wanted to confess how much he had missed her and how she was his best friend and how much missing her felt like watching a trapeze act with no net and seeing the acrobats lose their grip… But he said none of that. What he managed to squeak out was: “I uh, like the new glasses,” before he promptly passed out.