She’s probably confused because there are only three items on the menu and she’s assuming everything else is just written in invisible ink. Or the NorthFace jacket, black leggings, and Uggs she wears year-round have officially turned her stupid.
Bettie leans across the counter on her stomach and looks down at the girl’s feet, then pulls herself back and turns around to face me when she speaks. “You are a disgrace to coffee. Go away before I yank off those stupid Uggs and beat you with them. IT’S ALMOST JUNE! NO ONE WEARS FUR-LINED BOOTS IN THE SUMMER!”
With her back to the confused college student, Bettie lifts her arm and points to the door.
I know you’re probably thinking that as her boss, and the owner of the shop, I should apologize profusely to the customer, offer her a free coffee and make Bettie apologize.
Well, you would be thinking wrong.
I mirror Bettie, holding my arm out and pointing to the door without saying a word. Miss Venti-Soy-Blah-Blah-I-Can’t-Read scurries away and out of the building, wisely realizing the chick with all the tats could easily vault over the counter and make good on her Ugg-beating promise.
Bettie and I share a high five when the bell rings above the door as she exits. As weird as this may seem, this is another reason why Liquid Crack became so popular. We taught an entire generation of college students and hipsters who live in this area how to appreciate a plain, simple cup of coffee. We aren’t complete assholes, though. After living in Chicago for twelve years, I can spot a tourist as soon as they walk through the door. Bettie was born and raised in Chicago and can smell them from a mile away. They get a free pass when they come in here and a warning not to pull that Starbucks shit again if they decide to come back. For everyone else, they better learn how to read or get the hell out.
“I don’t know if it’s safe for you to tell me what Benjamin thought you should change the name of this place to. I’m feeling very ragey this afternoon,” Bettie says, grabbing an empty Traverse City, Michigan mug a customer slides across the counter and taking it over to the sink.
“Brewlicious, Coffabulous, or Roastacular,” I mutter, cringing and scrunching up my face in disgust with each name I speak that Benjamin insisted would work much better for a franchise than Liquid Crack.
The coffee mug slips from Bettie’s hands and splashes into the sink of water when she whirls around and presses her hand over her heart.
“Was he abused as a child? First the coffee mugs, and now the Frankenstein-like mash-up of two perfectly good words to make new, horrible ones. Why does he insist on doing that? Every time he calls you fantabulous, an inch of his dick disappears,” she complains, crossing her arms in front of her.
Bettie’s outrage makes me feel much better about my decision to end things with Benjamin, even if he hasn’t gotten the memo yet. I haven’t even told her all the other things he suggested I change and argued with me about, going so far as to call the lawyers and investors on his own with the hopes that they’d agree with him. Lucky for me, they didn’t. They knew what made Liquid Crack special, and they weren’t about to change it.
“Forget Benjamin and his freaktastically disappearing dick. You are now the proud owner of a coffee franchise and you don’t need him,” Bettie reassures me as my cell phone rings from its shelf under the counter. “And better yet, you’ll be so rich and famous when Liquid Cracks start opening up all over the world that you’ll never have to set foot in that podunk town you grew up in ever again!”
I laugh as I grab my phone from under the counter and bring it up to my ear, my smile slowly falling when I hear the sharp, southern twang on the other end of the line. As the woman speaks and my mouth drops open in shock at what she says, I silently wonder if Bettie cursed me by mentioning that podunk town, when I realize I might be setting foot back in that place a lot sooner than “never again.”
CHAPTER 2
Recorded Interview
June 2, 2016
Bald Knob, KY Police Department
Deputy Lloyd: We have a witness who gave us a written statement that they heard you say, and I quote, “Let’s kill him. I know people who can make it look like an accident.” Are you telling me you never threatened someone’s life before?
Bettie Lake: I threaten people’s lives every day when they don’t know how to order a simple cup of coffee. That doesn’t mean I’d really kill anyone.
Deputy Lloyd: We’re not accusing you of killing anyone, Miss Lake, but it’s a little too coincidental that the day before the victim was murdered, you were overheard by a witness in Chicago talking to our prime suspect about knowing people who can kill someone and make it look like an accident.