Death Before Decaf

Death Before Decaf
is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An Alibi eBook Original

Copyright © 2015 by Caroline Fardig

Excerpt from
Mug Shot
by Caroline Fardig copyright © 2015 by Caroline Fardig

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Alibi, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

A
LIBI
is a registered trademark and the
A
LIBI
colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book
Mug Shot
by Caroline Fardig. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

eBook ISBN 9780804181303

Cover art: iphoto/Niloufer Wadia

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I
hate
college kids. From their unwashed righteousness to their impossibly naïve view of the “real world,” they really piss me off. So, on the eve of my thirtieth birthday, what did I do? I went and moved into a craphole apartment building full of the little buggers. Oh, and I took a job at a university-area coffeehouse, so that I could serve them, too. Brilliant idea. Truly brilliant.

Now, why would I go and do a stupid thing like that, you ask? Necessity. I was broke. It was either move in with my parents (again), or accept a job from an old friend and strike out on my own, penniless. I would choose loneliness and poverty over suffocation and nagging any day. Not that my parents aren't wonderful people, because they are. It's just that I can't stand living under the same roof with them.

So here I was, back in Nashville, in my old college stomping grounds. I have a degree in vocal performance from Belmont, but that doesn't do a person with paralyzing, all-consuming stage fright much good. That was why I took the job at my friend Pete's coffeehouse, because you can't be a teacher or a lawyer or a rocket scientist with a vocal music degree. You can, however, be a damn good restaurant manager, which I am. Well, if you don't count the time my dickhead fiancé stole all of the money from the café we owned together and left town with my best waitress.

Life has given me lemons. What's a girl to do? I'm going to make some coffee.

The moment I set foot inside Java Jive, I felt like I was home. The place looked exactly the same as it had the first time I walked through the door over ten years ago, and the pervasive aroma of freshly brewed coffee still hung heavy in the air. My longtime best friend, Pete Bennett, was even behind the counter, wiping up a spill and throwing a towel over his shoulder exactly like he always did. When he looked up and smiled at me, a wave of nostalgia hit me like a ton of bricks, and I was immediately transported back to the first time we met.

At that time, I was nineteen and a freshman at Belmont University. My parents had given me exactly five hundred dollars of spending money for the entirety of my freshman year. Needless to say, it was long gone before Christmas break, and I was in desperate need of a job. I answered a “help wanted” ad posted on campus for a local coffeehouse, Java Jive, and scheduled an interview with the owner. Besides babysitting, I had never had a job before. To say that I was nervous would have been a heinous understatement.

I walked in the door, and a boy from school was standing behind the counter, wiping up a spill. I had a huge crush on him, but I hadn't known he worked here. All I knew was that his name was Pete and that he was dreamy, with his spiky black hair and ever-present smile. He threw the towel over his shoulder and greeted me, “Hi, what can I get you?”

“Oh, um…nothing…” Back then, I tended to get flustered easily.

He frowned. “Then I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We have a strict ‘no loitering' policy here.”

My face went scarlet. Getting kicked out of the joint was not the way to begin an interview. “No, I…I'm here for…”

Breaking into a grin, he said, “I'm just yanking your chain. I know who you are.”

Wide-eyed, I asked, “You do?” How could he possibly have known me? He was a year ahead of me, and we didn't have any classes together. Plus, I was still dealing with homesickness, so I wasn't overly outgoing—not what you'd call big man on campus, or whatever the female equivalent of that is.

“Sure. You're Juliet.” He then broke into song, his voice throaty and pitch-perfect: “ ‘Juliet. Oh, Juliet. The night was magic when we first met.' ”

My blush deepened as I tried desperately not to grin like an idiot at the fact that Dreamy Pete was serenading me. That was no easy feat for a lonely nineteen-year-old girl, but I managed to choke out, “I'm, um, here for an…interview.”

His face turned serious. “Yeah, about that. My pop—he's the owner—usually does those, but he had to run and pick up my little sister from dance class. You're stuck with me.”

I remember thinking how awesome it would be to have Dreamy Pete all to myself for a while. But then the reality hit me that I'd have to be able to form a complete sentence around him (if I wanted the job, that is). Before my brain had a chance to catch up, I blurted, “I'd like to be stuck with you,” and immediately cringed.

He smiled again. “That's good enough for me. You're hired.”

My mouth dropped open. “That's it? You don't want to know about my job history or work ethic? Or if I'm an axe murderer or anything?”

Chuckling, he answered, “You don't look like an axe murderer to me. And if you're terrible at the job, Pop will fire you. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Great. Wanna hang out with me and have some coffee?”

I couldn't believe my luck. What were the odds I'd meet my crush
and
get a job working with him
and
get invited to hang out with him, all in under five minutes? That night we talked for hours, staying long after the coffeehouse closed. It was the first time since I had left home that I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

That same comforting feeling washed over me now, as present-day Pete sang, “ ‘Check yes, Juliet. Are you with me?' ” Something about his singing voice always made me smile.

“Hey, Pete!” I exclaimed, hurrying to give him a big hug as he came around the counter to greet me.

“Have I mentioned how
excited I am
that you're going to run the shop for me, Jules? And happy birthday, by the way,” Pete said as he lifted me in the air and squeezed me tighter.

Laughing, I replied, “Yes, you might have mentioned it a couple hundred times. And thanks.”

“What's an old woman got to do to get some attention around here?” called a gravelly voice.

Pete put me down, and I immediately swooped in on the tiny, white-haired old lady sitting on a nearby stool. I threw my arms around her and said, “Gertie, I have missed you.”

“Shit, I just saw you a couple months ago. What the hell's the big deal?” Pete's grandmother Gertie grumbled as she gave me a kiss on the cheek. Gertie was by far the coolest old person in the entire world. Her colorful language could make a sailor blush, and she always treated me like one of her own.

“Gertie's here every morning, so you two will be seeing a lot of each other,” Pete said, smiling. Gertie insisted her grandchildren call her by her first name and would never allow them to call her “Grandma.” She thought it made her sound old.

“I'd rather the two of
you
would be seeing a lot of each other. Hell's bells! When are you two going to bite the bullet and have yourselves a good fu—”

“Gertie!” I cut her off just in time, trying not to blush. “We're just friends. Always have been. And there
especially
won't be any biting of anything now that Pete is my new boss.” There was a time when I would have loved to have been something more than friends with Pete, but that was ancient history. A lot had changed since then.

She shrugged. “You can't blame an old woman for trying.” Gertie had always wanted us to get together.

Groaning, Pete said, “I have a girlfriend, Gert. You know this. You've met her several times.”

Turning back around to her coffee, Gertie shook her head and muttered something. I thought I heard “damn floozy” and “beat with an ugly stick.” Pete's girlfriend, Cecilia, was neither of those things, but unfortunately she also wasn't one of my biggest fans. We had gone to college together, and for some reason she never seemed to like me. Then again, I couldn't stand her, either.

Pete rubbed his hands together excitedly. I had forgotten how infectious his smile could be. He was one of those people who could light up a room just by walking into it. “So are you ready for me to introduce you to everyone?”

“Absolutely,” I replied, my enthusiasm tinged with a sudden feeling of apprehension. As happy as I was to be back here and to have a job, I was extremely nervous about taking over the reins of Java Jive.

Pete's father, George, opened Java Jive twenty years ago. It was his baby. He nurtured it and grew it into a thriving business. Once his health started declining last year, George wasn't able to give as much of his time and energy to the place, and it started slowly losing business. George had died a few months ago and left his coffeehouse to Pete, who already had his dream job as a sound engineer for one of Nashville's best recording studios. Pete didn't have the time or the knowledge to run the family business, but he couldn't stand to let his father's dream die with him. That's where I came in—it was my job to make the place profitable again. I knew I could never begin to fill dear old George's shoes, but I could sure as hell run a successful restaurant. My confidence in my skills unfortunately did nothing to calm my first-day jitters.

Pete jumped up on top of the diner counter, dangerously close to Gertie's coffee cup. Completely grossed out, I grimaced. Standing on an eating surface was frowned upon by the health department, and by me. It was probably a good thing that Pete wasn't going to be helping run Java Jive anymore, because they had barely passed their last inspection.

“Hey, folks,” Pete announced to the room. Coffeehouse patrons and staff alike stopped what they were doing and trained their attention on him. “I want to introduce Juliet Langley to you.” Grinning ear to ear, he pointed at me, and everyone looked in my direction.

I froze, an overwhelming feeling of panic shooting through me. My heart started pounding, and I broke out in a sweat. My old pal stage fright had struck again. Granted, I knew I wasn't actually on a stage or expected to perform, but having all eyes on me brought that familiar sickening feeling surging back. If Pete's announcement didn't end soon, I was going to vomit everywhere.

Pete continued cheerfully, “Juliet is going to be our new manager. She worked here during college and has plenty of experience managing restaurants. I'm incredibly happy to have her back at Java Jive. Oh, and it's her thirtieth birthday today! Show her some love!”

The room broke out in applause and cheers of “Happy Birthday.” My face burned with embarrassment, not only for the unwanted attention, but also for the shame of freaking out over nothing. I knew my phobia was ridiculous, but I couldn't seem to do a damn thing about it. Relieved that my little episode was over, I managed a quick wave before I collapsed onto the empty stool next to Gertie, my back toward the room of onlookers.

Pete hopped down and looked at me worriedly. “Jules, I think it's high time you dealt with your stage fright. You looked like you were going to puke just now.”

I took a couple of deep breaths and croaked, “I'm good. Let's have our meeting with the staff.”

“Fine, but we're going to talk about this later.”

The hell we were. I knew he had my best interest at heart, but I was way too embarrassed by my condition to talk about it with anyone, including Pete. I had made peace with not performing anymore (mostly), so who cared if I had the occasional bout of stage fright? Not me.

Pete led me back to the kitchen and called the staff together. “Hey, guys, as of this moment, Juliet is the new boss. It's your job to get her acclimated around here. Like I said earlier, she's worked here before, so she knows the ropes, but she'll need a little help with some of the new systems we have in place.” He gestured toward a greasy middle-aged guy and said to me, “This is Dave. He's in charge of the kitchen, and he's been helping me with the management since Pop passed. He can tell you what you need to know.”

Dave glared at me and grunted. Hmm. Maybe Dave wasn't too excited about having to answer to someone again. I got that. I would probably feel the same way.

Pete continued around the room, pointing at people as he introduced them. None of them seemed any more excited to meet me than Dave had. “Brandon is our assistant cook, whose duties are food prep and cleanup. Camille is one of our daytime baristas, and of course you know Rhonda.”

Oh, damn. Yeah, I knew Rhonda. Rhonda had been lazy and useless ten years ago when I first worked here. Her permanent scowl had created a lot of wrinkles since I had last seen her.

Pete went on, “The evening staff will arrive this afternoon, so you'll get to meet the rest of the crew later.”

Feeling the need to greet my new staff, but not really feeling the love, I cleared my throat hesitantly and said, “Nice to meet you all. I'm looking forward to working with you.”

Crickets.

Pete picked up on the less-than-welcoming vibe, gave the staff a “Back to work,” and ushered me to the office, closing the door behind us. “They don't like change,” he said apologetically. “They're good at their jobs, for the most part. The night staff comes in at two. They're mostly college kids, so you'll have to stay on them a little more than these guys.”

Great. Just what I needed. Not only did I get to deal with disgruntled adults, but I also had to corral college kids who needed babysitting. College kids in general were bad enough, but ones with no work ethic could prove to be insufferable. I would probably have to pick up after them, like their mothers did. I couldn't think of crappier news to get on my thirtieth birthday, when I was already feeling a little old. Maybe I should have discussed the particulars of the job with Pete before blindly accepting his offer.

“Do you have any questions?” He put both of his hands on my shoulders and gave me a gentle shake. “You're awfully quiet, Jules.”

I smiled slightly. “No, I'm good. I'm just a little overwhelmed, that's all.”

“You'll be fantastic. I'm sure of it.”

“I know.”

Laughing, he said, “Ah, yes. There's the old Jules. Modesty was never your strong suit.”

“Hey! I know my restaurant shit. I'm just nervous, that's all.”

“Back around Gertie for five minutes and you're already swearing.”

“She brings out the worst in me. I like her.”

Pete smiled and tugged on a strand of my red hair. “What I can't wait for is one of the staff to piss you off. There's nothing quite as frightening as watching Juliet Langley lose it on someone. Bring on the Redheaded She-Devil!”

“The Redheaded She-Devil is a myth.”

“Tell that to Danny Wright.”

I hadn't thought about my college boyfriend in years. “He cheated on me with my roommate!”

“So he had it coming?”

“Every bit of it.”

After I found out about Danny's unfaithfulness, I very cunningly lured him into one of the Belmont music practice rooms and convinced him to remove all of his clothes. I then stole his clothes and set off the fire alarm in the building, forcing him to run outside naked in front of all the music students. Only then did I bust him for his crime and bitch the cheating bastard out, in full view of everyone we knew. Pete had coined the pet name “Redheaded She-Devil” after that particular incident. Good times.

Pete smiled down at me. “Let's go over the books, and then you can go out there and get your hands dirty. It's open mic night tonight, so it's gonna be a zoo.”