Day 5. I have all sorts of scenes popping up in my head now. This story has taken a more serious turn. I was hoping it would be funny, but it’s turning deep on me. Sigh. Well, I’m still going to just follow it and see where this goes.
So, to summarize, the love interest, Ryan, ran into a beautiful “Sanctimommy” at the mall. I’m going to call her Sondra for now. It turns out he’s in crisis mode, because his mother is having major health issues. (Obviously, I’m drawing on my own experience for this one.)
I think Ryan needs another encounter with the Sanctimommy…….
ENCOUNTER #2: RYAN MEETS THE SANCTIMOMMY AT A COFFEE SHOP (OF COURSE)
RYAN’S POV:
I swung by a popular coffee shop next to the university. The line was long, but I didn’t mind. I spotted an empty table, grabbed my drink from the barista, and pulled out my laptop. I had some time to work on my next lecture before visiting my mom at the hospital.
I was so engrossed in my work, that I never saw her enter. But a familiar voice caught my attention. I glanced up and started. It was her. The beautiful brunette from the mall. She was standing next to the barista’s counter, frowning slightly. I watched her pick up up a cup of coffee and hand it to a blond, obviously pregnant woman.
“This isn’t my drink,” the blonde said, frowning. When the blonde didn’t take the drink, the brunette set it back down on the counter. The pregnant lady pointed to the cup that the barista handed to the brunette. “That’s my drink.”
“No, it isn’t,” the brunette replied, as she slid past the barista’s counter. She sidled up to the condiment counter and grabbed a few napkins.
“Hey, you took my drink,” the pregnant blonde said, waddling past a few tables to follow the brunette. She pointed at the name scrawled on the side of the cup in the brunette’s hand. “That cup has my name on it. Carrie.”
The brunette leaned over the counter and nodded her head to the barista, who handed her the other cup of coffee. She handed it to the pregnant lady. “You can have this one.”
“What? No,” Carrie shook her head and pointed to the cup in the brunette’s hand. “I don’t want this one. I want the drink that I ordered.”
“Well, you can’t have it,” the brunette replied. Her face appeared completely unperturbed.
“Excuse me?” The blonde flushed. She was getting angry.
A older man sitting at the table next to the condiment counter frowned at the brunette. “Look, lady. Why don’t you just give her back her drink?”
“No,” the brunette said, and pointed at Carrie’s stomach. “Look at her. She’s pregnant. Pregnant people aren’t supposed to have caffeine. It’s poison to an unborn child.”
The gentleman looked uncertain. He glanced at the blonde’s protruding belly, before turning his attention back to the brunette. “It is?”
“Yes, it is,” the brunette stated firmly. The authority in her voice was strong. The man nodded and turned his attention back to his own table.
The blonde was furious. “That is my cup of coffee. I paid for it.”
“And I bought you the exact same drink, only decaf,” the brunette replied smoothly. She nudged the drink along the counter in the blond’s direction. “Please take it. It’s a nonfat decaf latte.”
“I ordered a regular caramel macchiato,” the blond woman snarled, clenching her fists. I think she was trying not to pop the brunette in her pretty face.
“That has too much sugar in it,” the brunette replied. “Don’t you want what’s best for your baby? You don’t need all of those extra calories.”
“What the hell?” the blond sputtered.
The brunette continued. “I mean, if you’re that selfish that you can’t even wait for ten months to drink this sludge, then you can at least have a decaf, nonfat latte.”
I swear the blonde’s eye started twitching. I hated to get involved, but I sighed and got up from my table. I lowered my gaze to meet the brunette’s eyes, trying not to get distracted by how blue they were. “This is getting ridiculous. First, you mess with my friend at the mall. And now this? Who died and put you in charge of everyone?”
The brunette swung her head in my direction. The only way to describe the look she gave me was a death stare. “This is none of your business.”
“What? Are you kidding me?” The blond woman dropped a few expletives, before shrieking. “You better give me my drink BEFORE I KNOCK YOUR GOD DAMN TEETH OUT OF YOUR HEAD.”
“Well, that’s classy,” the brunette rolled her eyes, completely unruffled by the threat. I gaped at her. This woman was unreal. “You’re getting violent over a cup of coffee? I feel sorry for your child, if that’s the type of language you use around your house.”
The pregnant blond choked. “WHAT I DRINK IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.”
“It is when you’re carrying an unborn child. I’m the voice for babies who have none,” the brunette replied smoothly. I couldn’t even respond. This woman didn’t miss a beat. I had a feeling she had done this before. Like many, many time before. I was amazed that the baristas weren’t doing anything about it.
A Writing Mama's Journal 