The store is empty except for Derek, five baristas ready to work, and a lighting and camera crew setting up.
No sign of the Gabby Girlz. Derek shut down the store for the last hour to set up for the show.
I look over at my beautiful desk. It's covered with candles and rose petals. It looks amazing. My sign is hanging off a gold nail on the wall behind my chair. There are candles and roses everywhere, and the smell of espresso is more intense than I ever remember it being before. It's like they're piping it in somehow. Derek steps up to me and helps me take off my jacket.
'You look fantastic, Jane,' he tells me.
'You look great yourself.' Derek is wearing a black suit with a deep red silk tie. I've never seen him this dressed up.
'Thanks,' he says, and immediately gets back to business. 'Here is what's going to happen. You go on and set yourself up at your desk. Then the Gabby Girlz are going to come in and briefly meet you, and their crew will adjust their lighting.'
I nod, feeling my stomach tighten with nerves.
'They'll start out getting footage of you working with the customers for about half an hour to forty-five minutes.
Then we'll take a break for them to conduct the interview with you.' I nod again, afraid if I do open my mouth something gross will come flying out of it. 'They'll ask you just a few questions. Two, three minutes, tops. And then that's it. It'll be a snap. Relax.'
'A snap. Sure,' I mumble. I move to my desk to have a closer look at the setup. Suddenly there is a roar of noise from the sidewalk and the store is lit up from the flashbulbs going crazy outside the windows. 'What's going on?'
'It's them! It's the Gabby Girlz!' Em squeals, looking out the window.
'They're coming in,' Mom says. My stomach flip-flops so hard that I fall back into my new red chair. The front door of the store flies open with a whoosh of cold air. The Gabby Girlz–Mackenzie Estrella, Hope Stewart, and Olivia Clark–stride in with an entourage of their people. Young girls, probably personal assistants, come in laden with big wardrobe bags, bottles of water, and BlackBerrys.
Derek rushes up to greet them. 'Ladies, welcome. We are so happy to have you here at our store.' The women barely register that he's there.
Olivia, whom I always considered the nicest of the three on the show, steps out front and extends her hand to Derek. 'Nice to meet you,' she says. 'Cute place.' She glances around the room, taking in the decor with a nod of appreciation.
'Thank you,' Derek says. 'Can I introduce you to our Espressologist?' He turns in my direction. 'Jane, come here,' he hisses.
I slowly pull myself out of the chair and walk toward the group. Holy lighting and makeup crew, these women are old! Wait a minute, isn't the whole premise of the show that they are a group of twentysomethings? They look that way on TV, but up close, well, these ladies have got to be well into their forties. Maybe even Mom's age. I feel duped. I seem to be the only one noticing, though, because the rest of the group is all buzzing with excitement.
'Ladies,' Derek says, 'I'd like you to meet Jane.'
'Nice to meet you, Jane,' Hope says as she peers at me over her Hollywood sunglasses and holds out one limp hand while the other presses a pink cell phone to her ear. I take it and give her hand a squeeze. I always find it a little creepy when people wear sunglasses at night. I just don't get it. Hope nods and walks past me to a corner table to finish her conversation.
'Jane, we've read the briefing about what you're doing here,' Mackenzie says, grabbing my hand and shaking it firmly. 'What a riot! Should make a good show.'
A riot?
Olivia grins and offers her hand. I take it and try to look enthused. 'Don't be nervous, sweetie. Has someone briefed you on what is going to happen?' I nod.
'Good,' she says. 'Then just get yourself situated and we'll get started.'
'Okay,' I mumble.
Em comes over, loops her arm through mine, and guides me back to my new desk and chair.
'Chill, Jane,' she encourages me. 'Just don't even think about it. Pretend it is a regular night.'
'You're right. I can do this.' I sit and look through my notes for what seems like the hundredth time. A few moments later Derek announces that he's opening the door and I brace myself. Here we go.
The room quickly fills with people waiting to be matched, and some who are just here for support. Glinda is standing near Derek, looking proud to be with him. Gavin and Simone are here, arm in arm. Cam gives me a thumbs-up from behind a display of coffee mugs. And Will made it, too. He's about forty people back in line. I'm getting butterflies again. Tonight is the night I match Will, a five-shot espresso over ice, with me, a large iced nonfat mocha, no whip. Okay, okay, so it doesn't seem like a match right off, but I'm sure it will work. It has to.
I'm feeling better seeing some friendly faces. But then, ugh, Melissa. What is she doing here? She said she would never want me to match her. And so help me god, if she says anything nasty to me and it gets on camera ...
Derek holds up his hands and speaks. 'Welcome, everyone. I'm glad you all made it for our third Espressology night.' There are whoops and hollers from the crowd, and some people clap. 'Thanks,' Derek continues.
'As you know, tonight is very different, as The Gabby Girlz is here taping a segment.' The crowd cheers again, even louder this time, and Mackenzie, Hope, and Olivia turn and give the crowd a wave from where they are doing last-minute prep in the corner of the store. 'We are going to get started now. Try to ignore the cameras as best as you can. Just step up to the counter, place your order with one of our baristas, and then give Jane your information.' The crowd cheers a third time when they hear my name. I can feel my cheeks redden a bit at all the attention.
I am poised at my desk with my fingers on my keyboard– ready to go. I can hear Hope talking to the camera at the other end of the store: 'The Espressologist is in, at least at this local Chicago Wired Joe's.' I'm going to have to block her out if I'm going to do this.
A timid-looking guy in his early twenties places his order with Em and then steps up to my desk. He has dark hair and light brown skin. He's wearing a long-sleeve plaid shirt tucked into khakis.
'How are you doing tonight?' I ask, smiling. He nods at me and hands me a piece of paper with all of his details on it. Wow, he's prepared.
I type his info into my spreadsheet: Naushad Raheem, male, twenty-one, gamer.
'Whoops,' I say, 'I don't see the most important item.
What's your favorite drink?'
Naushad smiles at me and shrugs. 'I like small zebra mochas.'
Well, dang. I didn't see that one coming. A zebra mocha is half regular mocha, half white chocolate mocha. I was about to peg him at something tamer, like a COD (coffee of the day). I type in zebra mocha and flip open my notebook to refresh my memory of this drink.
Small or Medium Zebra Mocha
Smart and spicy, this person likes to try unusual things and has an adventurous streak. Creative and witty and sure to be fun. Fair looks–not a rock star, but not a DMV Clerk.
Her: Possibly a writer or artist and most likely has a good heart. Him: Most likely into computers, mainly communicates with the opposite sex online. Soft-spoken.
I can see this now, I think. Good thing I checked or I could have totally screwed up this guy's love life.
'Naushad,' I say, 'I've got all of your information. If I find your match, I'll have her contact you.' He nods and moves to the counter to wait for his drink.
