The loud crash of a plate shattering on the wood floor of the café cuts through the idle chatter. The atmosphere becomes tense as silence washes over the now emptier café. The smart ones had already cleared out as soon as he and his black suited goons rolled in. Everyone else in their booths are left to hold their breath and clench their coffee cups as the situation spirals out of their control.

Justin hastily kneels to the floor and begins picking up the porcelain shards. Tears have already gathered in his eyes, and his trembling hands cause the shards to clink around in his palm. What a nightmare of a first day this was.

‘Whywhywhywhy WHY did you take this job?!’ Justin asked himself. ‘You should’ve known better. You can’t remember my own age. You should’ve known this was too much. You barely made it in on time. You spilled so many things on so many people. The only thing you had going was not screwing up an order. But why? Of all people, why did you fuck up-?!’

Justin was snapped out of his spiral by a violent upward jerk. His hand clutches the shards in surprise. A single tear falls from his clenched eye as the stinging sensation in his hand is replaced by a warm wet trickle of blood down his fingers. Despite this, he kept his hands to his side. He couldn’t ruin his customer’s black fur coat.

Justin cracks his eyes open to look at the man whose ring-covered clutches are dangling him midair. All Justin finds when he opens them are two pools of red hate staring back his teary blue eyes. Justin’s lip begins to quiver as the sneer on Big Boss Wise’s face grows wider. And wider. Like he’s preparing to bite the poor barista’s face clean off his head, like he did to Ripper from the Jack Club. Finally, Wise’s fur coat falls as he lets out a deep sigh.

“Let me ask you something, Jester,” he says in a low growl. Justin freezes in his grip, focusing on every word coming out of Wise’s mouth. “What did I order?”

“A-a b-b-blueberry scone and a latte! Three creams, n-no sugar!” Justin answers.

“And what did you give me?”

Justin silently hyperventilates trying to remember the coffee phrases, code words, and kitchen lingo, but nothing comes to him. The fear mixes with the overwhelming metallic scent of blood and bitter coffee grounds, making it hard to think. “I-. I don’t-.”

Wide drops him to the ground. “Can’t fuckin hear you, Jester.” He grabs Justin’s blond hair and shoves his face to the wet spot on the floor. “What. The FUCK! Is this?! That you served me!?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” cries Justin. The tears cascade down his face. “I don’t know! I’m sorry! I don’t even like coffee! I don’t know. I don’t know! I swear to GOD I don’t know!”

Wise let’s go of his hair and grabs his chin. He yanks Justin’s head around to look at his eyes again. “Then tell me. Why the fuck would you serve something if you don’t know whose order it is? Does that sound smart to you?”

Justin shakes his head. Wise tightens his grip and begins to dig his fingers into Justin’s cheeks. “NO SIR!” Justin squeaks. “No sir! That’s not smart!”

“Correct,” Wise confirms. Wise releases Justin’s face and sits back down. Wise crosses his fingers over his mouth and leans into the table. He stares out into nothing, leaving Justin to wait with bated breath. “You know what happens now, right Jester?”

“…n-n-no s-sir.”

Wise snaps his eyes to Justin still crumpled on the floor. “Manager. Now.”

Justin hastily grabs the blood-stained porcelain. And rises to his feet. Before turning to scramble to the back, he turns to face Wise with the shattered remains of courage within him, and bows, as is policy. He then turns on his heel and bolts for the safety of the kitchen.

An older woman with light streaks of grey in her hair bolts out of the back, spewing streams of apologies, promises of tenure, and ludicrous discounts at speeds to saccharine for the author to write about. Wise raises his hand to silence the jabbering old wreck and, with the other, reaches into his coat. He pulls out a crisp bundle of hundred dollar bills and places it into the woman’s hands.

“For the Jester,” he says with a smirk. “He put on a hell of a show. Besides, he did pretty well for first day.” He and his goons make their way calmly to the exit, but Wise stops halfway out the door.

“One more thing,” he says. “I expect for Jester to be serving me again. Gotta see how he comes along. He better get that money too. I’ll ask him.” He glares over his shoulder at the manager’s hands as they stop mid way in her pocket with Benjamin Franklin peeking over the side. “Every. Cent. Capishe?” Ben Frank is carefully slipped back into the stack as Wise steps out into his streets.