Rescue the Barista

the possibilities. I know my judgement is all taking a back seat. Riding this one out. The ways I’m thinking about her leave no room to be thinking about anything else.
It takes me a moment to remember what I had planned to say. That’s not like me. I down the espresso right at the counter. I have to admit, fucking great espresso.
I ask her, “Business okay?”
She half turns. “Great, thanks. Yours?”
Can’t say I was expecting that. People show me a little bit more respect around here. People don’t ask me about my business. Not like that.
“I just will say, my trade is mostly finance. Investment, loans. You need any help like that, I can be your guy. Cash flow, new business – I know what it’s like.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “So, you’re Mr business philanthropy, is that right? Angelo the angel for small local businesses?”
I down the espresso “That’s good. ‘Angelo the angel.’ Yeah. that’s me.” I’m still waiting for a flicker of something from her eyes, but I’m not getting it. Zip. Nada. “Anyway, just so you know. You need anything, call me. Alright?”
I pull a card from my wallet. Put it on the counter. She picks it up, looks at it. Looks at me. All it says on the card is my name and a cell phone number.
“I’ll keep it in mind, Mr Franconi.”

Chapter 7 Jamie
All the young moms watched him. The older ones, too. As he strode across the room like the world belonged to him, every female straightened, touched their hair or their neck. One mom, a pretty strawberry blonde with pink streaks, stares with her mouth gaping open and her eyes wide the whole time he’s here. Every one of them, their thighs fall wider.
When he leaves I sigh to see him go, watch the door close behind him. His ass is worth watching. Gazing after him through the windows, I follow him as he strides off down the street. Then a sigh rips out of my throat, so deep and long everybody in the place hears it and turns. The strawberry blonde looks at me and nods, sighing herself.
Massimo, my coffee supplier, is a big, jolly guy. I’m always happy to see him, but he isn’t due until next week. I make him a macchiato, just how he likes it.
“I drop by to let you know, this blend of coffee, it’s going real good.”
“That’s great, Massimo.” Something’s wrong. I can feel it.
“Yeah. But that means, now we are having to think hard about how we supply. Who we’re selling to, you know? Look, this isn’t coming from me, okay? But this is how it’s going to be.” I feel a cold stone in my throat and it drops down to my gut.
“What, Massimo?”
“We got to get a payout in advance for the coffee.”
“You mean, you want to pay for this week’s coffee and next week’s at the same time?”
“Kind of. But quarterly.”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“You go to pay for the next three months.”
“Three… wait, three months? That’s going to be hard.”
“You gotta do it, Jamie, else I can’t give you this week’s coffee.”
“You’re kidding. You’re going to cut me off?”
Massimo shakes his head, slowly. “I’m telling you, it’s not coming from me. Nothing I can do about it.”
“Massimo, this is really going to hurt. You drop by and tell me that, with no notice? How am I supposed to find that much cash at the drop of a hat? You think I can just pull it out of the till?”
My face is flushed. I’m having to bite back my anger. The implications are just sinking into my bones. I quickly calculate. I don’t have that much in the bank. I have no spare credit left.
I have almost no choices, as far as I can see. I can pick another coffee supplier. Like, by the end of today. Or, I can wave goodbye to every penny I put into this business.
I don’t see how I can trade through this. Not in less than six weeks. Six weeks’ trade and everything would be covered, but not the outgoings. Not the milk, sugar, elegant pastries, and the cakes.
I can make sandwiches. That was always an emergency fallback. But I can’t make the cakes. This is a disaster.
Massimo has on a sad puppy face. ”Jamie, I get it that this is tough. If it was me… Any hoo, what I can do? I will go round the rest of my calls this afternoon, and come back about five. I don’t know how much that helps.”
I’m shaking. I thank him. Not very nicely. His eyes are sad.
Before he leaves, I ask, “Are you going around to everybody and telling them this?”
“Jamie…”
“You’re not.” Like a cold bath, the shock washes over me. “It’s just me.”
Massimo spreads his hands. He pulls his upper shoulders. Presses his lips together. His face is red.
Why, Massimo?” I’m crashed. “Why me, Massimo?”
“It’s the competition. Like I said.”
“What competition?”
“The shop front on the corner. The other side of the crossroads? You see it’s being renovated?”
I shake my head.
Massimo says, “One of the chains. Moving in on the corner.”
“But the chains all supply their own coffee. That’s how their business models work.”
“They’re taking coffee from us. At least for the first year.”
“On condition that all the smaller shops pay three months in advance?”
“Yeah.” He looks down. “Some of them.”
After Massimo leaves, I sit on a stool behind the counter. I call Summer. I feel like I’ve been drained out.
“Summer, I’m gutted.”
“How can you survive that?” Summer’s voice is quiet and low. I know she must be thinking about all the cakes that I buy from her. This is bad news for both